Masters of the Castle: Witness Protection Program

by Maren Smith

  “Go on,” he ordered, and drummed his fingers again.

  He wanted her to say it. He knew this wasn’t easy, but he wanted her to say it anyway.

  “You said y-you… would… s-sodomize, um… me.” Her face was on fire. Spontaneous human combustion was a thing, because it was on the cusp of happening right here, right in front of him.

  “Why am I going to put my cock in your ass, Eden?”

  “B-because I keep bumping into you.”

  “Do you want me to put my cock in your ass?” he asked.

  Was that a trick question?

  A mortifying rush of warm liquid flooded through her nethers. Were her panties not right now living somewhere hidden in this office, they’d have been soaked in an instant. Her thighs tensed, but she was afraid if she moved, even to clamp them tight together, that flood was going to start dripping. Maybe all the way down her legs and onto the floor where he could see it.

  She didn’t want to answer that question either, but that glittering light in the depth of Grimsley’s dark stare said he did not intend to let her escape any of this easily. “Do,” he repeated, slowly and succinctly. “You want. Me. To put my cock. In. Your. Ass?”

  God help her. She lied, and he knew it, even as she shook her head.

  The darkness of his hunger intensified. He never moved from his spot on the desk. He didn’t unfold him arms. He didn’t even drum his fingers, but she could see it. The rising swell of his desire fast growing inside him.

  “Was it an effective threat, do you think?” he asked, solicitous once more.

  Eden shook her head.

  “Why not?”

  Because her pussy was pulsing. Thumping and throbbing in response to his fast-rising need.

  He took mercy on her, but it was a deviant mercy. One that only made the burning humiliation worse as he said, “Because it didn’t work, did it?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “You bumped into me again not five minutes later, didn’t you?”

  She couldn’t possibly get any hotter or feel any more embarrassed. Not without bursting into mortified flames. Her hands fisted, pressing hard against her own quivering thighs. Her pussy was pulsing. She could feel the minute spasms and her own unbearable wetness. “Yes.”

  “Put your hands behind your head,” he ordered.

  Her watery knees almost buckled, but she did. She seized hold of her own hair the way she’d fisted her skirt. Pulling a little helped to keep her centered, grounded in the reality of the moment, instead of the myriad of fantasies now swirling in her head. Him, ordering her to turn around, to bend over, to grab her ankles. Would he spank her first, or simply unbutton his pants, pull out his cock, fit it to her passage, and shove?

  She almost came, just at the thought of him sinking into her on a single, impassioned thrust. Of him not even caring if she came or not, but using her as nothing more than a sheath for his cock, taking his pleasure stroke after stroke until with a hard grunt, he slammed all the way up to his balls and spilled himself inside her.

  She could easily have come to nothing more than the image of him doing that. The reality, however, was a completely different thing. The reality was that she’d only once ever had a man try to stick his cock into her back passage. It had hurt, and the effort to try and push through her body’s natural tightness hadn’t been fun for either one of them. Try as she had to muffle her cries in the pillow, her screams had made him go soft. After that, he’d had no interest in trying again.

  Grimsley was not that man, however. Trapped in the grip of his cool, hungry stare, Eden doubted if he’d care one whit how much it hurt her. He was going to do it anyway; nothing in that moment could have been more erotic.

  “Turn around.”

  Or terrifying.

  Her knees buckled weakly as she shuffled around until her back was to him. He was going to tell her to bend over now. Her whole body quaked from the want and the fear. Could she bear it? It had been a fantasy for forever, but some things were so much better as fantasy.

  Bend over… bend over… Her own heartbeat was thumping in her ears, she strained so hard, just waiting to hear that command. But it was a command that did not come. Instead, she jumped when she felt the caress of his fingers, raising her skirt behind her and tucking the tail end into the ties behind her back. The brush of air moving across her bottom felt cool against the wetness seeping down her thighs. It was a sharp contrast to the heat of his breath caressing her ear as he said, “You knew you were going to be punished, so you ran away. Isn’t that right?”

  Her indrawn breath tried to choke her. “Yes, Sir.”

  Grimsley cupped her hips in his hands. When he squeezed, it felt as if he were giving her strength, but they didn’t stay on her hips. One after another, his hands began to move. One slipped around her middle until the heat of his palm came to a burning stop right over her quivering womb. The other slid downward, slipping over the curve of her mons until she felt the dip of his fingers parting her silken folds.

  “Mm,” she rolled her lips to muffle her involuntary gasp when he found her clit, and pressed.

  “Are you afraid I’m going to spank you here?” he asked. She nodded, and her heart both soared and sank when he brought his mouth in close behind her ear. His hot breath shivered her when he asked, “Tell me, when did you and the undercover agent finish ‘cleaning’ the rooms today?”

  Her heart sank all over again. “Noon, Sir.”

  “What time is it now?”

  The butterflies that had only just begun to diminish, kicked up in panic all over again.

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “It’s half past the supper hour.” He took his hand off her stomach long enough to fish out his pocket watch and show her. It was a lovely timepiece. Either gold or gold-plated with black Roman numerals on a mother-of-pearl face. It looked very old.

  “Can you explain the five-hour discrepancy?” he asked, making the butterflies positively swarm.

  She clung to her hair, her knees trembling. “W-we went outside. I showed her the grounds.”

  “Were you required to show her the grounds, or were you doing it because you wanted to continue avoiding the punishment you have coming? Tell me, how am I going to punish you again?”

  Heat blazed through her. The pulse of her heartbeat wasn’t just pounding in her pussy anymore. She could also feel the subtle thump of it pulsing in her anus. “You are going to p-put your cock in m-my ass.”

  “I’m going to shove it up your ass. Let’s say that instead, it’s a much more honest admission of what I intend to do.”

  Another tidal flood of heated moisture spilled through her nethers. Now she was dripping, multiple tickling drops winding their way down the inner slopes of her thighs to her knees. “D-do you want me to say that now?”

  His hand returned to her stomach. The other squeezed her pussy. “Yes, I do.” It felt like a warning.

  She repeated her punishment phrase, stammering over ‘shove’ and ‘cock,’ losing her voice entirely when it came to her ass.

  “Good girl.” He reached up to pluck the silly lacy maid’s cap from her hair, dropping it onto his desk before turning his attention to the bobby pins holding her mountain of curls in its sloppy bun. “Now, you may answer the rest of the question.”

  She closed her eyes, fighting back the urge to lean back against him. “I was avoiding it.”

  “Were you avoiding it also when you agreed to accompany a certain guest upstairs to the 101-spanking demonstration?”

  Swallowing hard, she shook her head.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “You know what the penalty is for walking into me. I don’t think you want to suffer through the penalty for lying.”

  “I’m not,” she stammered. “I was coming back here when he stopped me.”

  “I don’t care what you were doing when he stopped you. I care only that you agreed to accompany him. Did you or did you not agree to do that?”

  Torn, Eden hesi
tated. “I—” She stopped herself, wanting so badly to explain and yet, what possible explanation could there be? She had agreed. At no point had she agreed to be his submissive, but she had agreed to go upstairs with him and to be his partner for the duration of the class. “Y-yes, I did, but—”

  Grimsley abruptly released her and moved away. She couldn’t see him now but she could feel him, the towering height of him looming over her as he softly countered, “No buts, Eden. Were you assigned to be his submissive?”

  It was a funny thing, being this scared and this relieved all at the same time. “No, Sir.”

  “No, sir,” he agreed, calm and grim, soothing in the overwhelming completeness of his authority.

  Eden stayed exactly as he’d told her to be when he walked away from her. She didn’t look back, although the temptation was very real. Especially when she heard a desk drawer open, the rustle of objects being shifted and then the drawer bumping softly closed again.

  “Whose submissive are you?” he asked as he returned to sit on the edge of his desk just behind her. Her bottom clenched when she heard the plastic lid on a tube of gel lube pop open.

  “Yours, Sir,” she whispered.

  A dab of coolness touched the rim of her ass. Eden caught her breath, her fists clenching tighter on her own hair as he circled once, spreading the lubricant around. Take it, she told herself. Take it, take it, take it! And yet, when he pushed and his finger began a far slower and gentler invasion than anything she had imagined at his hands, it was more than just a pinch of pain that brought her arching up onto her tiptoes. She squeaked, unable to entirely dampen her involuntary cry.

  “You’re swollen,” he said, penetrating no deeper than his knuckle and yet, it felt as if he’d impaled her on a tree trunk.

  “I’m sorry.” She cringed, unable to smooth the wince from her expression.

  His finger abruptly withdrew. Standing up, she heard him swipe two tissues from the box on his desk and then he came around her, glaring down into her eyes as he cleaned his hand. “How long did you wear the plug?” he demanded.

  “You told me not to take it out!” she stammered, stung and instantly defensive. “It’s okay if I’m a little sore. I-I-I can take it, I promise!”

  “This is more than a ‘little sore’ and more than a little swollen,” he snapped back. “I sent you a runner at 10 am this morning, telling you to remove the ginger root. Don’t even try to tell me you did as I ordered. It’s obvious you wore it longer. By the look of it, I’d say you wore the damn thing all day, long after the lubricant re-absorbed. Look at me!”

  Helpless not to obey, she snapped her wounded gaze to his.

  “I understand these experiences are new. I understand wanting to feel everything, perhaps even to maximum the discomfort of some sensations in moments when you might want more. But when I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it promptly and exactly as I have ordered. Your disobedience in this case has caused physical damage—not to you; because you are yours no longer. You are mine, and you have damaged my submissive. Nobody gets to do that, especially not you.”

  “But I didn’t,” she wailed, no trace of the erotic need pulsing inside her anymore. All she felt was the panic now, and the burning effect of the tears welling up in her eyes, turning everything to a watery blur. Including him. “When I got your note, I went to the bathroom right away and took it out. But it wasn’t this morning. I only got your note maybe half an hour ago, I swear! I’m not lying!” she protested when he stiffened, his dark eyes narrowing. “I won’t ever lie!”

  Grimsley held up a silencing finger, holding it just off the tip of her nose where she couldn’t help but see it. Locking her lips, she struggled to swallow back the tears and hoped he would tell her what he wanted her to do. His eyes were still narrowed and he was still frowning, but it was no longer directed at her. Rather, he was staring at a point slightly past her.

  “Be still,” he said, calmly. And yet Eden knew just by the stiffness of him that Grimsley was anything but calm when he walked around his desk and snapped open a drawer. “Did I say you could turn around?”

  She promptly faced forward again. Hands still in her hair, her ears strained to listen.

  “Yes,” Grimsley said a half second later, but not to her. It took a half second before she realized he was on the phone. She didn’t know he had a phone in his office. She’d never seen one, not anywhere in the Castle. “A runner by the name of Stephanie has caused injury to my submissive. Is she there? … Who is her immediate supervisor and may I speak to him? … Yes, I’ll hold.” In the quiet that followed, Grimsley said, to her this time, “You took it out immediately upon receiving my note?”

  “Yes, Sir. I found a bathroom right away.”

  He breathed in and did not speak again until presumably the line picked up on the other end of his call. Was he on a phone or a cell phone? The curiosity nipped at her, but the desire to obey was stronger than the urge to steal a peek back over her shoulder.

  Grimsley’s greeting to the other supervisor was razor-sharp ice. “Your submissive broke mine and I am not happy… Stephanie, yes… I gave her a note at twenty to ten this morning. She was to hand deliver it to my submissive, granting my permission to remove the ginger root she was being punished with. That note should have been in my submissive’s hand no later than ten o’clock. I want to know why it wasn’t delivered until approximately half an hour ago.”

  Eden listened to the exchange, the cool back and forth between one supervisor and the other. Even knowing she was telling the truth, even when she could hear by Grimsley’s responses that the other submissive wasn’t protesting it, her heartrate still quickened. Especially when she heard him say things that included the words ‘my submissive.’ She’d never felt so delightfully owned. It might not be real, but it still felt good.

  “Don’t get testy with me,” Grimsley snapped. “Were the situation reversed, you’d be furious… Yes, and my submissive suffered physical harm because of her willful actions. I want to know what you’re going to do about it.” In the brief pause that followed, she could all but hear his eyes roll. “Yes,” he finally drawled. “I’m sure she’ll love every bit of it.”

  Eden jumped a little when she heard the clatter of (presumably) a cellphone being thrown back into his desk drawer.

  “Idiot,” he muttered.

  She jumped again when he came back to her, his hand clamping onto the back of her neck.

  “Don’t for a second think because I’m not going to fuck you as you deserve that you’ve somehow gotten off easy.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was meant to be rhetorical or not, so she answered anyway. “No, Sir.” Just to be on the safe side.

  Out the door he marched her, with her skirt still pinned up in the back and her bare ass on full display to anyone who cared to look. With her hands locked behind her head and his still clamped on the back of her neck, Eden didn’t have a lot of freedom to look around, but she could feel the stares in what few people they passed as they turned the corner and traveled a maze of gray-stone turns and corridors.

  They were headed for the Little Maids’ dormitory, she realized with a start. Except that they weren’t. Because when they reached it, instead of pausing at the double doors to shove her inside, put her to bed as he had the first night or leave her with a scolding, Grimsley kept walking. All the way to the far end of that hallway to a very unassuming wooden door.

  By now she’d passed this place half a dozen times and never thought another thing about it. It wasn’t until she saw Grimsley tap his keycard to the latch that she realized this was not a supply closet. Nor was it yet another fantasy room for paying guests. This was the Master Butler’s personal apartments—the open concept kitchen and living area were spacious and brightly lit via the setting sunlight, spilling in through two open windows that overlooked an enclosed courtyard and a bird aviary. Two open doors fed her glimpses into a neat and tidy bedroom, followed by an equally neat and tidy bathroo
m. Sparsely decorated, the only thing he had in abundance, it seemed, was books and what handful of floor-to-ceiling bookcases were required to shelve them.

  Why had he brought her to his private rooms, Eden wondered, a zing of excitement—or was that panic—zipping up her spine and straight into her chest. When he let go of the back of her neck, her first instinct was to run. Unfortunately, her feet were rooted to the floor and for the second time that evening, when she heard him close the door, yet again it both felt and sounded like the heavy metal clang of a bank vault slamming shut on her.

  Or a prison.

  Chapter 12

  What was he doing with her here? Grimsley scolded himself, even as he shut the door, sealing them both into the privacy of his personal apartments. He’d never brought anyone to his place before. He’d never felt such a hoarding need to keep a submissive this close at all times. Having her here was calming. It was also aggravating. He didn’t understand it and that annoyed him.

  He left her standing as close to the door as she could get while trying to disguise her growing nervousness, and he went into the kitchen to make an icepack.

  Something responsible, considerate employers did all the time.

  When they weren’t courting sexual harassment charges.

  “Go lie down on the couch,” he ordered, shaking his head at himself, determined not to examine anything he was doing too closely. His reasons weren’t rational anymore. He couldn’t trust them, and nothing he was doing right now made sense.

  So he’d been deprived of a little fun. So what? It was hardly the end of the world or, frankly, the end of his fun. He could have put her on her knees and shoved his cock down her throat, face-fucking her until he found his own satisfaction and then sent her off for the night. Preferably with a soundly smacked bottom, complete with a few cane strokes, because that’s the least she deserved for agreeing to accompany anyone anywhere without his knowledge or permission.