by Maren Smith
This was what came of getting too attached. He never should have broken his routine. For years, it had kept him grounded, focused. Never once had he allowed himself to become emotionally involved with one of his submissives. Someone else's, sure, why not? He was the big brother to every Lady of the Castle—from fellow employees, to the girlfriends and wives of the other Masters. Whenever Sam punished his Hannah by sending her to work the dungeon's implement table, Dominick made sure to keep a watchful eye on her. When the cast had finally come off Chelsea's arm, who had Kade sent to help her build up her grip? Dominick, that's who, and he'd worked her little ass in the gym like a champ, putting her right next to Sara, who had dutifully followed his regime instead of Jackson's once their daughter was born and she suddenly found herself with a baby belly.
And Kaylee—oh Kaylee—she'd held a place in his heart right from the day she'd run screaming away from him.
Every one of his fellow Masters' ladies was like the kid sister he'd never had. He had no problem watching out for them, defending and protecting them from any visiting Dominant who overstepped his or her bounds, and, as Hannah had discovered on two separate occasions, rarely thought twice about sending them home with a sharp sting consuming them from behind.
But he didn't feel for them.
He'd never felt—not for anybody, not like this.
Shaken, arm still outstretched, Dominick dropped his hand to his side before Sally noticed it had begun to tremble. He braced himself with a harsh breath, fighting for that familiar sense of calm when not a trace of it could be found in any part of him.
Her eyes huge, Sally whispered, "I'm so sorry."
Dominick stiffened into his most imposing stance. His jaw clenched and clenched again. He didn't need her pity, sympathy or half-baked understanding. "Two laps," he finally bit out. "And know, if you ever fuck up again—"
"I won't!" she blurted, relief bleeding out across her face. Guilt visibly lightened its grip on her shoulders as she crossed and crisscrossed her finger above her heart, then kissed the back. A sincere and yet oddly childlike gesture that suddenly put her in the light of a Little being let off the hook. "I swear. I swear I won't!"
"Out." Snatching open the door, he let her escape. He stood, stiff and unmoving, until the scampering of her fleeing feet carried her all the way down the hall and out the main door into the tropical heat outside. If she was a Little, he hoped she had a proper Mommy or Daddy waiting to bust her ass just as soon as she got home.
Raising his hand, Dominick looked at it. Steady as a rock. So why did he feel shaky? He stared at his fingers—the fingers with which he'd fucked Maddy and then left her wanting.
A soft bump hit the wall that adjoined this office to the next one down. That would be Tessa. The thought that she might have thrown something deliberately to annoy him sent his temper soaring all over again. Count to three, he told himself, but his feet were already moving, marching him out the door and down the hall. But when he reached the first office, instead of the opening freely, the door bumped into an unyielding blockade of furniture. The desk, from what he could see of it. Which was also when he noticed Tessa had drawn the blinds over the door's small window, hiding everything within behind a thin shield of horizontal plastic slats.
This right here was why he didn't do brats. Leaning into the unyielding door, he pushed, but the desk didn't budge. Somewhere inside, just beyond his reach, Tessa giggled.
"Who is it?" she sang.
Breathing heavily, he didn't count to ten; he counted to twenty. Twice. Only when he was sure he could continue without his losing his temper, out loud, low and growling, he said, "One, Tessa."
She giggled again, light and tinkling. Even her laugh sounded spoilt. He hated everything about it. "Oh, come on. You're missing the perfect opportunity to play the Big Bad Wolf."
"Two," he warned, the fury of his stare utterly wasted on the door.
She tsked. He couldn't see her or hear her soft, padding footsteps cross the carpet, but her sigh as she gave in sounded closer. "Fine. Spoilsport. Just give me a minute."
The door shut. Breathing in, Dominick counted to twenty all over again. His storm-dark eyes followed the faint scraping sound as she shoved the heavy desk out of the way. Her shadow passed right in front of the blinds. He managed to wait until she'd cleared the way and the knob was just beginning to turn under his hand, and then he slammed into it. Shoving into the room, he used that blow like he used his massive size—to wipe that smug smile off her face and seize her undivided attention.
"I already warned you once," he spat.
Tessa fell back several steps before she caught herself. She tried to laugh again, but it came out brittle and forced. That glistening uncertainty in her eyes held more than a small spark of wariness. "Crybaby. Don't be such a bore! Nobody got hur-urt! Ow!"
Dominick grabbed a fistful of her hair, close enough to her scalp to control the pain as he dragged her up onto tiptoes. He did it coldly, as controlled as he had ever been with any submissive hell-bent on testing his authority. He did it just to make sure she couldn't avert her eyes except into the full fury of his own.
"Kneel!" His seething command never rose above his normal tone and yet she reacted as if he'd bellowed it. He felt her shudder, felt every tense muscle as she lowered herself to her knees at his feet. In himself, Dominick felt only disdain when he saw the light of erotic anticipation creeping into her. "Open your mouth."
Tessa not only opened, she opened wide, following with gleeful victory the descending approach of his other hand, the hand he had so aggressively fucked Maddy with. No doubt she expected him to unzip his pants, but he didn't. He fed her his fingers instead, shoving them deep into her unsuspecting mouth and grabbing her jaw to keep her from spitting them back out again. Eyes bulging, Tessa choked, but with his other hand locked in her hair, she could not twist, turn or break away. All eroticism and smugness vanished from her face, gagging tears and anger rising fast to take their place.
"Can you taste her?" Dominick asked, cold and hard, tightening his grip with both hands when Tessa's eyes suddenly flared wide with understanding. She grabbed his wrist, rearing back, but he held fast. "Yes," he assured her. "I absolutely did. I fucked her with this hand. Taste her. Taste how thoroughly her dripping pussy coated my fingers. Taste how close she came to cumming, how hard she would have cum had I not stopped it."
Bringing his face close to hers, he lowered his voice even more. "As soon as you're done making your heartfelt apology to her, I intend to fuck her again—and again and again—all night long. Oh yes, I will," he said when her eyes narrowed and her chin jerked, a feeble effort to pull back and which he refused to allow. "Yes, I will. And yes, you will. You will apologize. In fact, you're going to do more than that. You're going to crawl all the way to her on your hands and knees, you are going to apologize, and then you are going to pucker up, bitch, and you are going to kiss her ass. Yes," he said and nodded, jerking her back in close when she tried again to wrench away.
She grabbed his wrist, her eyes bright with all the furious indignation he wouldn't let her spit out.
"You will do it, because if you don't, I'm going to walk my sexy ass over to the nearest phone, I'm going to call your husband, and I'm going to inform him that this resort no longer welcomes him or his money. When he asks why, I'm going to tell him exactly what you've done."
Her face flushing bright, Tessa stopped fighting. She stared up at him in stark disbelief.
"Oh yes," Dominick assured her yet again, and once more repeated, "I warned you. I'm all done dancing to the tune you want to play. From here on out, you'll dance to mine or I'll pass you the phone and let you try to justify costing him a twelve-percent overall ownership on all returns."
You wouldn't dare was written all over her fire-red face.
Try me, he let his look reply. When she did not immediately resume her struggles, he took his fingers from her mouth and released her hair.
Eyeing him warily, Tess
a made no move to get off her knees. "Can I assume by 'kiss her ass', you mean that to be figurative—"
"I mean you're going to put your face right up to her naked butt cheeks and you're going to kiss them. Twice now, once on each side, just because the symmetry of it tickles my fucking fancy. Go ahead. Say something else about it. I'd love to watch you kiss her feet as well, or perhaps even her pussy. Give you a broader taste of where I plan to spend the night." He held her gaze without blinking. "Any questions?"
Smears of lipstick on her cheek and chin, Tessa locked her unsmiling lips.
"Fine." Returning to the door, Dominick held it open and waited. "What's it going to be, Tessa? Are you going to start crawling, or should I start dialing?"
Her mouth thinned, but she did not argue. Dropping her rebellious gaze, her flush of humiliation growing, Tessa began to crawl.
"Fucker," she hissed as she passed him.
With the flat of his boot, Dominick gave her butt a nudge. Nowhere near hard enough to be a kick, it nevertheless got her crawling faster. Yielding to temptation, Dominick smiled.
Damn, that felt good.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Well," Maddy said, eyeing him from her side of the table without looking as if she were eyeing him. "I think that was the most awkward thing to ever happen to me."
Taking a bite of yellow curry, Dominick looked resplendent in his blue and white military uniform. The long-tailed coat with its brass buttons and tassels fit as if it had been tailored for him, amplifying the breadth of his shoulders, the narrow trim of his waist. He looked good in blue. It brought out the dark of his eyes.
"Did I say we were going to talk about this?" he asked.
No. In fact, he'd said the exact opposite, and frankly, it was driving Maddy crazy. She glared at her supper, trying hard to be good, but she just couldn't let it go. How could she? Maybe having people crawl up to him on their hands and knees, muttering apologies (Tessa had actually apologized three times—three!—in ever increasing levels of sincerity before Dominick would let Maddy accept it) before planting two tentative kisses right on her butt!—maybe that happened to him all the time back at the Castle, but it was new to her.
She hoped nothing like that ever happened again.
The crawling… well okay, she could put up with that. Tessa deserved a little humiliation for her part in what had happened. And considering that she had offered her initial apology through gritted teeth, obviously she needed practice with her apologies, too.
Once the surprise wore off, Maddy didn't mind being the object of all that practice. But the kisses? Oh, her skin had crawled. Just thinking about it now made it crawl all over again. Back when it first happened, Maddy couldn't wait to find the nearest shower and scrub that smooching sensation right off her ass. The need had been so strong, she'd almost left position, but Dominick's hand on the back of her neck was both a silent warning to remain and the rock of support she needed to get through that second grimacing peck.
"Get out," he'd told Tessa then, snapping his fingers once and pointing to the floor when she tried to stand. He'd forced her to leave the same way she'd come in, on all fours.
Before the door fully closed behind her, it was thrown open again for Emil. He brought with him two bundles of clothes in plastic bags: the seventeenth century blue and white naval uniform for Dominick, which he looked so resplendent in, and a white and silver pinstriped ball gown for Maddy, complete with corset, stockings that tied above the knee, and clumpy, clog-like shoes.
"I had to guess on the size," he'd said, handing them to Dominick. "I saw Sally and the others running laps. Does that mean I don't have fill out severance paperwork tonight?"
"Not yet," Dominick had muttered, surprising Maddy with how much better it made her feel to know four people weren't going to lose their jobs over her lack of judgment. That relief was tempered, however, by being naked from hips to ankles, and bent over with legs spread wide in front of Emil as well. Maybe Dominick wasn't comfortable with it, either. Although he didn't say anything, he repositioned himself to block her from Emil's view. "If they put one toe out of line while I'm still here, I'll be on them so fast they won't know what hit them."
"Oh, they'll know," was all Emil said and left again, leaving them to their privacy.
"You may rise," Dominick had told her, and as she had done when it first happened, the way he'd said it made Maddy shiver all over.
"Cold?" Dominick asked, his hawk eyes missing nothing.
"No, just thinking." Poking at the pasteles—meat-filled cornmeal Hot Pocket-type pastries served wrapped in giant leaves—on her plate, Maddy stole a look around.
They were the only guests dining in this particular tavern, but not the only people. It was a busy night in the make-believe town of Fleetwater. Half a dozen soldiers, decked out in the same type of uniform Dominick now wore, gathered around the bar, laughing and drinking from pewter tankards. Their bright red vests offered flashes of color in between the passing brown and white swish of the tavern wenches' skirts as they made their rounds, topping up cups and serving food. Now that night had fallen, it was surprisingly gloomy, despite all the candles and lamps positioned on every flat surface large enough to accommodate them. One had to look extremely closely to notice, despite their flickering, that the candles had lightbulbs instead of flames—something the insurance agents on this practice tour were likely only too quick to notice and document in the files they carried with them constantly.
"About what?" Dominick pressed.
She poked her meat pastry again. "Nothing."
Putting his fork down, Dominick wiped his hands and mouth on his napkin, clearing his throat once as he took care to make sure both mustache and beard were tidy before reaching into his pocket.
"No," Maddy groaned. "No, no, no. Ple-ease!" Her breath caught on a squeak when she heard the click and felt the immediate hum of the vibrating egg strategically inserted deep inside her. "Oh!" She clutched both her fork and a fistful of her silvery skirts, and tried simply to withstand.
"You haven't had more than two bites of your supper," he noted, and resumed eating. "If you're still thinking about the lack of carrots on this island, I'm going to put you across my knee."
As if she'd fit. Maddy knew better than to say that aloud, however. He had a very broad lap; she'd fit; he'd make sure of it. He had an even broader hand; one so skilled at building fires in the bottoms of soon-to-be penitent women that she probably wouldn't even notice how many knotholes existed in the floor directly under her nose. He'd make sure of that, too.
"I'm not thinking about carrots." She scooted all the way forward in her chair, but changing how she sat did not alter how deeply she felt the humming egg. No matter what she did, it stayed tucked right up against her clit. "Mm," she moaned under her breath. "You're killing me."
"Only little deaths," he promised between bites. "Eat. If you don't want the calories, push the cornmeal aside, but eat the protein. You're going to need your strength tonight."
Maddy shivered again. She didn't know how he could so effortlessly make the promise of sex with him sound both erotic and ominous at the same time. If she ever figured it out, she was going to turn the tables on him. Just the thought of shivering him the way he did her made her heart skip.
Picking up her fork, she took the smallest bite of meat filling—savory herb and pork so tender that it all but melted on her tongue. As soon as it was in her mouth, he shut off the egg. The sudden loss of vibration was every bit as hard to endure as the hum had been. Her chewing didn't quite muffle her moan.
"Delicious," she said, hoping to disguise the traitorous sound with a false reason.
Undeceived, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "Isn't it though?"
It really was, but all too soon, without the egg to distract her, thoughts of Tessa crept back in. Within bites, she was back to prodding her food rather than eating it. Even knowing she wasn't going to get away unscathed, Maddy gave in to her cat-killing curiosity.
"What did you have to say to get her to do all that?"
Dropping his fork and wiping his mouth again, Dominick sighed. "Did I say we were going to talk about this?"
"I just want to know!" Maddy protested, half afraid he might reach into his pocket again. Tiny chills of arousal leapt from her belly to the tips of her breasts, artistically positioned right at the upper edge of her corset where they constantly alternated between catching her nipples on the boning and threatening to pop free, depending on how she breathed.
Scooting his chair back, he beckoned to her and patted his right thigh. "Come here."
Maddy didn't dare. "Which way?" she asked cautiously. "Face up or, um… face down?"
Eyes darkening, Dominick snapped his fingers and dropped his index to rest with utmost authority directly upon his knee.
Damn it.
Stifling a groan, Maddy shoved her chair back and stood. She looked at him, and then at his lap. It wasn't that she didn't have a choice. She had all kinds of choices, but she still went to him. Half-expecting to be spanked, she let herself be drawn in to stand between his knees. Even through the multiple layers of her dress, she felt the warmth of his hands cup her hips. He turned her to face the table and her breath caught a little, becoming a shivery sigh as he slipped his fingers under the back of her dress. He followed her calf up past her knee and her thigh, until she felt the play of his fingers tracing the underside of her right bottom cheek. She braced for the disciplinary smack she suspected was coming, but he only held her dress up and out of the way.
"Sit," he directed, guiding her down where he wanted her. His naked hand remained beneath her skirts, fondling the curves of her bottom, stroking up and down the crevice between while he picked up his fork. "Try the curry," he offered, lifting a heavily sauced bite of chicken to her lips. "It's very good."
It was, too, but it was hard to pay attention to the spices tingling at her tongue when his hand beneath her skirts began to move, caressing around the side of her hip and down the inner slope of her thigh so he could cup her all-too eager pussy.
