Seducing Sandy

by Maren Smith

  Who would think in a place this size, she’d run into someone she actually knew? What she didn’t know, though, was if the guy Wendy was with was a client—same as they were—or if he was an employee. The urge to run made her legs shiver even more than the cold, but it was too late for that. Not unless she wanted to raise suspicions. Standing her ground, Sandy winced as the man swept his own coat around her shoulders and pulled it tight. His body warmth was all over the interior cloth. The second it touched her skin, she almost wilted. She hadn’t realized how cold she really was until then.

  “What are you doing out here?” he scolded, sweeping the grounds both inside the Nursery play yard and out for signs of anyone else. “Young lady, where is your Daddy?”

  “Uh…” Sandy didn’t bother trying to stop her chattering teeth. “Taking a nap. I j-just… w-wanted a picnic.”

  “It’s, like, twenty degrees out here,” Wendy tsked, taking the puppy from her arms.

  “Let’s get her inside.” A supporting arm around her waist, the man bundled her back through the snow the way they’d come. Scooping up the remnants of her lunch, Wendy followed.

  “Do they have a first aid center?” she asked as they found an entrance in.

  “I’m f-fine,” Sandy said, hoping she didn’t sound anywhere near as panicked as she suddenly felt. No way could she go to the Castle’s infirmary. She’d be busted for sure, and they’d probably find her camera and her phone.

  “Wait until her Daddy gets his hands on her. She really will need an infirmary then,” Wendy’s dom tsked, rubbing her shoulders briskly through the coat. “Let’s get her to the lunchroom. A nice cup of hot chocolate—”

  “Coffee,” Sandy corrected.

  “Hot chocolate,” he repeated even more firmly, with a re-enforcing ‘that’s quite enough out of you’ look. “Hot chocolate fixes everything.”

  Knowing she was in enough trouble, Sandy stopped arguing. Besides, she really was cold, and be it cocoa or coffee, once she was seated in the dining hall with a hot mug cradled in her hands, it ceased to matter what the liquid was. The warmth seeping through the ceramic and into her blue-tinged fingertips was nothing short of heaven.

  “A picnic, huh?” the Dom said, arms folded as he sat across the table from her. He frowned. “Taking a nap, huh? Does somebody need her mouth soaped for lying?”

  Sandy caught her automatic retort before it could make things worse. “No, somebody does not need her mouth soaped, because she isn’t…” Sandy caught herself. “Well, okay, she kind of is lying.”

  “She?” Wendy’s Dom said. He seemed to be growing larger, right alongside his increasing disapproval.

  “Me,” Sandy corrected. “I was lying. I’m sorry,” she said to Wendy, rather than him. “I divorced my doms.”

  “Oh,” Wendy said, instantly sympathetic. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Didn’t they offer you a new one?”

  “I turned them down. I thought I’d just… take a look around. On my own. Honestly, I didn’t know how cold it was outside, or I’d have changed clothes. Except that I can’t change,” she promptly told the frowning Dom, her tone sharper than she’d intended, but that patronizing frown was starting to rankle her. “My other doms took my princess dress and stuck me in this silly thing, and stop looking at me like that. I’m not a damned Little.”

  “Little or not,” he said, dangerously soft, “if you swear at me again, I will paddle your ass before I march you back upstairs. This is not my first trip to the Castle and I will not be spoken to as if I had just done a damned stupid thing that at the very least risked my health. You can be very glad right now that I was not assigned to you, because you would not be sitting down for the rest of the week if I were.”

  She should have been offended. It was hard not to be intimidated by either his look or his tone, but for some reason Sandy couldn’t help feeling a little bit cherished too. She squirmed.

  Sitting beside Master Malcolm, Wendy cleared her throat. “Master Malcolm?”

  It took him a moment before he broke eye contact and glanced Wendy’s way. “Yes?”

  “May I have a cup of hot chocolate too, please, sir?” she asked.

  Glancing from her to Sandy again, he made the apparent decision to leave the table so they could talk without him. “Marshmallows or whipped cream?” he asked.

  Wendy perked. “Yes, please.”

  Master Malcolm lost a little of his severity to the smallest of smiles. “I guess that means both.”

  He excused himself from the table. Smiling, Wendy watched him go. Sandy stole quick peeks at the empty tables around them, making sure no other patrons in the dining hall were close enough to overhear them. Although fast approaching the dinner hour, there weren’t many people here now. Leaning across the table, she whispered to Wendy, “This place isn’t as it seems.”

  Wendy’s smile turned even more sympathetic. “I’m sorry you had a bad experience. May I ask what happened? Was he mean to you?”

  Sandy almost asked ‘who’ before she realized Wendy meant Eric and Reeve. “No, no… well, a little bit, but not really. Eric is nice, kind of laid back. Reeve is a little more… serious, I guess you could say. But that’s not what I mean.” Again, she had to stop herself. She couldn’t exactly tell Wendy that she’d got rid of her doms so she could go snooping through the Castle. At the same time, she wanted badly to warn her friend that this place peddled underage kids. As soon as she got the proof she needed, Sandy was going straight to the police. At the very least, this place was going to be raided. If Wendy was here when that happened, she might very well get caught up in the mass arrests that were sure to follow.

  So would Eric, and so would Reeve.

  A pang of conscience stung her but Sandy refused to give in to it. It wasn’t her fault illegal things were happening here. If they worked here, that made them part of that disgusting activity. They deserved to face the consequences of their actions, but Wendy, not to mention all the other guests who had absolutely no idea what was going on around them? Collateral damage was a word for a reason, she supposed, but that thought didn’t sit comfortably inside her.

  “If nothing happened, then why did you dump them?” Wendy asked, clearly perplexed.

  Sandy squirmed in her seat all over again, but she just couldn’t think of a way to warn her that didn’t also involve telling her everything. “Wendy, there are things happening here that you’re not going to want to believe, but you need to.”

  Leaning in closer, Wendy lowered her voice now too. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

  It was such a serious allegation, with such disgusting undertones, that it felt awkward even to say. “I saw a very young girl with a much older man on the playground outside. He was kissing her, and I do not mean in a parental or platonic kind of way.”

  At first, Wendy didn’t react. Cracking a smile, she recoiled with a faltering laugh. “That’s not possible.”

  “Where there’s one, there’s probably more,” Sandy persisted.

  “No.” Shaking her head, Wendy sat all the way back. “No, that’s not possible. There are no children at the Castle. It’s in the rules. They don’t let them cross the gate onto the grounds. Kids can’t even get on the bus. You can get a kid onto the gaming floor of a casino easier than you could get one into here.”

  “I know what I saw,” Sandy insisted.

  “Some people look younger than what they are,” Wendy insisted back. “My sister is forty-five and she still gets carded every time she walks into a bar. I’d kill for her baby face; she looks like she ought to be in high school. I—”

  “I know,” Sandy stubbornly repeated, “what I saw.”

  Huffing slightly, Wendy’s conviction wavered, then buckled. “So… what are you going to do?”

  She would have thought that pretty self-explanatory. Except, now that Sandy had to say it out loud, it sounded childish and naïve. “I’m going to stop it, of course.”

  Wendy didn’t make fun of her. Sh
e didn’t smile, either. “Good luck with that,” she eventually said, then shoved back her chair and stood up. She started to walk away.

  Sandy didn’t know why that should prick her temper, but it did. “Be careful,” she snapped after her. Now she sounded even more petulant than before.

  Snapping around on her heel, Wendy came back to the table. “You be careful, too,” she said, her voice so much calmer than the flash of temper in her eyes belied. “The kind of accusations you’re about to throw around, they have consequences. I don’t know what you think you saw, but before you go putting ‘a stop to it’, you’d first better make damn sure that you’re right.”

  “Right about what?” Master Malcolm asked, just now returning with Wendy’s hot chocolate in hand. “Is everything okay over here?” He looked from one to the other, clearly aware that it wasn’t.

  “Fine,” Sandy lied. Not knowing who he was, she wasn’t about to tell him anything.

  Wendy might, but she didn’t do it right there in front of Sandy. “Can we go back to our room?” she said instead. “I’m starting to get a headache.”

  Master Malcolm looked at Sandy again, but he didn’t argue. Setting the cup on the table, he said, “Certainly.” Wrapping a protective arm about her waist, he led Wendy away, leaving Sandy to stew.

  She should have expected that kind of reaction. No one wanted to hear bad things about their dream vacation spot, but Wendy had also been right. Accusations did have consequences, particularly accusations with as big of an impact as the one she was about to level. If she couldn’t prove it beyond all future doubts, then—right or wrong—those consequences would be hers to bear. She had to get proof. She had to find out where the Castle kept its visitor and staffing records, and she had to find that young girl’s file, or she may as well not say anything at all.

  But how? How was she supposed to find those files in a place this massive, and once she’d found them, how was she supposed to gain access—Sandy’s eyes widened. She stared sightlessly at the cup of cocoa Malcolm had left on her table.

  Castle Masters had master keys. Reeve had used one last night to open her room, right before he and Eric took turns roasting her backside. If she wanted to gain access to whatever evidence she might find in whatever records the Castle kept, then she needed to be reassigned to a Castle Master, and then she needed to steal his keycard.

  Groaning, Sandy wilted in her seat as her next realization hit her. The easiest way to guarantee she was coupled to another Castle Master would be if she got back with Eric and Reeve. She covered her face with both hands, but what choice did she have? She was only supposed to be here for three days. That gave her precious little time to find the record room, much less to hop from dom to assigned dom in the hopes she eventually landed on one with a keycard. After two or three change requests, she was pretty sure someone—Master Marshall—might get suspicious.

  No, Reeve had a card. She had to go back to Reeve.

  And say what, exactly? I changed my mind; you’re not so bad, after all. Sandy groaned all over again. You were in the way, stopping me from doing what I wanted to do, but more than that, I didn’t want to admit how much I liked what you made me do.

  She squirmed, wishing she could stifle that flush of unwelcome arousal that blossomed at the thought of being on her knees in that public hallway, with her skirt up and her panties down and Reeve not fifteen feet away, cracking the door every now and then to steal another peek at her. She’d been watching through her hair. She’d known every time he’d done it, and her pussy had twitched and overflowed each time the shadow of him stole another look.

  Sandy shook herself free of the memory, but the damage was already done. Her pussy felt molten, aching and throbbing to be touched.

  By Reeve, no less.

  This was the very last complication she never thought she’d have to deal with back when she’d first decided to come here. Who’d have thought she’d like being forced to her knees with her panties pulled down and her pussy on display? Who’d have thought she’d like spankings? Well, okay. No, she didn’t like spankings, but she did like the burning afterglow and she loved being held the way Eric had done… If only Reeve would do that—pull her onto his sturdy lap, wrap his arms around her, cushion her cheek upon his shoulder while his deep voice told her that his expectations for her could not, would not tolerate whatever behavior had landed her bottom-up across his thighs.

  Who would have thought she was the kind of woman who would want any part of that?

  Whatever she was going to do, she had to hurry up and do it. She needed to get that keycard, find the file room, steal what evidence she could find, and get the hell out of here before she did something crazy. Like fall in love with Master Reeve, of all people.

  Her pussy pulsed, soaking the crotch of her panties until she was afraid to stand up lest the evidence of it be visible on the chair beneath her.

  God.

  Whoever would have thought she was that kind of woman at all?

  Chapter 8

  I checked the corral, the dining hall, the infirmary and the Nursery again, just on the off-chance security might have escorted her back there if they saw her wandering around alone,” Reeve said, as he and Eric met up at the base of the main staircase in the lower hall. “Security hasn’t seen her, though, and Wardrobe says she never came back for a change of clothes.” Stumped, Reeve scowled as he surveyed the mass of guests passing all around them, busy on their way to and from the dungeon, or the next 101 class, or ready to grab a bite to eat. None of them, however, was wearing the same babydoll dress he’d put Sandy in, so none of them wore the focus of his frown for very long. “At least we know what she’s wearing. Security’s keeping an eye out.”

  “She’s not in the dungeon, either,” Eric said, propping hands on hips as he joined Reeve in a look around. He winked at a middle-aged woman in a Red Riding Hood outfit. “Yeah, baby,” he said, as she walked away giggling. “You know who the big bad wolf is.” His smile died when he caught Reeve’s scowl. “What?”

  “We’ve been looking for two hours. The only place you checked was the dungeon?”

  “Have you been down there today?” Eric countered. “There’s some seriously twisted shit going on at the hoist.”

  “You helped with a scene,” Reeve accused.

  “She was gorgeous,” Eric shot back. “And incredibly, incredibly grateful.”

  “I’m driving myself crazy looking for our missing submissive, and you’re getting blown in the basement.” Shaking his head, Reeve turned and walked away. “You’re unbelievable.”

  This whole situation was unbelievable and he was eyebrows deep in the middle of it. Even in a place the size of a medieval castle, who’d have thought finding a missing woman would be this difficult? Locating her wasn’t even going to be the hardest part. Winning her back, would. How was he supposed to do that? Apologize, Marshall had said. But apologize for what, for doing his job?

  Oh, was that what you were doing, a needling voice in the back of his head asked.

  Of all the days to grow a conscience… But no, to be honest, not everything he had done with Sandy had been strictly part of the job. Everything from the point when he’d found her so damned wet had been pure pleasure. He shouldn’t have left her alone, but if exhibitionism turned her on, then what had been the harm? Hell, the second he found her, he was half-tempted to march her straight to the dungeon. He’d tell her it was her punishment for leaving when she knew she was supposed to stay, and he’d put her on her knees and let all the voyeurs watch as she sucked him off. He’d bind his fingers in her gorgeous red hair, holding her captive while he fucked her mouth. He’d put her in a mask or a hood, strip her down to nothing while she blushed and spat her sassy little refusals that were meant to distract him from noticing how tightly budded her nipples had grown. He would amplify her vulnerability by binding her in cuffs and ropes, and show her just how helpless she could be and how many times he could make her come because of it, esp
ecially in front of an audience.

  Eric jogged to catch up with him. “Where are we going now?”

  That was the problem. Reeve didn’t know. He was just moving, at this point, leading the way down through the medical wing, past a row of examination rooms, some of which were occupied, although not by Sandy. She wasn’t in St. Castle’s dormitories or classrooms. She wasn’t outside on the playground, or in any of the frost-covered gardens, or at the Roman showers or the Mermaid’s grotto. He checked the dining room, and then the kitchen, and got his first glimmer of hope all day. Cook Connie had seen her, but hours ago. She’d taken food to go, which made him want to look outside again, except she didn’t have a coat. She might have gone out briefly, but it was far too cold for anyone to want to stay outside for long.

  Unless…

  Reeve changed directions, pushing past Eric, who quickly stepped aside and then fell into step.

  “Where are we going now?”

  “The aviary,” Reeve said. It was the only place he could think of that might still qualify as outside, but where Sandy wouldn’t need a coat or warm clothing, and where Security rarely went unless there was a problem. He quickened his step, traveling a maze of long, stone hallways all the way to the very back of the Castle, where a tiny little outdoor courtyard provided a place for smokers to gather at the handful of café-style tables that stood sentry around the Aviary’s only entrance.

  His breath steamed the air as he crossed the open courtyard. It was too cold for the smokers right now, too. Currently, they’d taken to congregating at the covered and heated smoke-shack off the kitchen. Pushing through the heavy double doors, Reeve stepped into the tiny catch room that prevented any unauthorized escapees from fleeing the coop, but Eric stopped at the threshold.

  “I didn’t know we had this here,” he said, astonished.