Masters of the Castle: Witness Protection Program

by Maren Smith

  “And keep still,” he added harshly, “or I’ll strap you in place.”

  She froze, trying to think, to assimilate all the sensations coursing through her.

  Once again, he moved to the table, returning a few moments later.

  “Maybe this will help you focus,” he said, and she felt his fingers part her labia before he pushed something heavy, smooth and round deep up inside her slippery channel. When it began to vibrate insistently a second later, she realized what it was. An egg or bullet of some kind. And he’d positioned it in such a way that it was humming directly against that place deep inside her she hadn’t even known about until he’d shown her.

  She moaned despite herself, the residual sting in her ass cheeks suddenly enhancing the pleasure in her pussy rather than counteracting it.

  “Step back,” he ordered and she did so, as far away from the cross as the chains on her cuffs allowed.

  His big hands found her breasts, squeezing them, plucking and twisting her nipples until she let out a gasp, the unexpected pain sending unexpected bolts of pleasure directly to her clit.

  “What’s my name?” he said, squeezing harder.

  She had to concentrate to get the words out. “Master Eamon,” she panted at length.

  He began to roll the tortured buds. “And how do you address me?”

  “Sir!” It came out as a gasp.

  “Good.” He let go of her nipples with a final sharp tug. “The next time you forget, I’ll take a switch to you.”

  Picturing the evil, whippy looking thing Master Grimsley always carried with him, she shuddered and her buttocks clenched involuntarily. “Sorry, Sir.”

  “That’s better.”

  He moved away again and she could have wept. The vibrations against her G-spot were powerful and constant, and she was aching for him to replace the toy with his cock. For him to go on touching her. For him to kiss her.

  “This is one of my favorite paddles.” There was a huge, resounding crack and a blaze of fire encompassed her entire backside, driving out any pleasure and leaving behind only mindless agony.

  Tasha screamed at the top of her lungs. “Fuck!”

  Eamon chuckled. “That’s fuck, Sir.” He brought it crashing down again and she could actually feel the way her buttocks flattened with the impact a split-second before the pain hit. “Remember to focus, sweetheart,” he said, his harsh tone in direct contrast to the endearment. “Breathe and focus.”

  For the life of her, Tasha didn’t see how she would ever be able to breathe again, let alone focus on the suddenly insignificant humming in her sex.

  But then the blaze abated slightly, the fire simmering down into an altogether different kind of heat, one which radiated out from her ass and directly to the place between her legs.

  At the next resounding wallop, all the air expelled from her lungs in a whoosh and she forced herself to concentrate on the way the searing sting spread to her clit, the vibrating bullet helping her to redirect the sensation.

  “That’s it,” he said softly, almost lovingly. “Good girl.”

  An altogether different kind of warmth suffused her at those two little words, and she felt her face flush with pleasure. Suddenly, more than anything else, she wanted to make him proud, wanted to hear those words again.

  “You want me to fuck you?” he growled, suddenly, into her ear.

  “Yes, Sir,” she moaned.

  “You want to feel my big, hard cock deep inside your tight, wet little cunt?”

  She could feel his erection through his pants as he ground his pelvis against her hot, sore bottom. Her belly twisted with a new wave of desire. “Oh, yes. Please… Sir…”

  “Five more,” he said curtly, and stepped back.

  Five? Tasha didn’t think she’d be able to handle one more stroke with that wicked, evil thing. It had to be huge—it certainly didn’t leave one square inch of her backside untouched whenever he brought it crashing down.

  “Push your butt out,” he ordered in that voice that turned her insides to goo.

  And even though she was terrified, even though her ass was sore and burning and all she wanted was for him to stop, to take her in his arms and give her another one of those kisses she felt all the way down to her toes, she found herself obeying his command.

  Keenly. Willingly. As if she were a real masochist, a real Little Maid, as if she really belonged there in the Dungeon, with Master Eamon wielding his paddle behind her.

  This time, when the thick, heavy wood crashed against her poor, abused behind, she was ready for the impact—for that initial flare of heart-stopping fire—and she found herself embracing rather than fighting it.

  This man, this gorgeous, dominant, intimidating and breathtakingly sexy man, was doing things to her she never could have imagined.

  And she was loving every minute of it.

  By the time the fifth—and hardest—swat had reduced her rear end to what felt like a single fireball, Tasha was shaking not with fear, or the pain, but with desire.

  And when Eamon yanked the dripping bullet from her pussy and drove his sheathed cock deep inside her in its place just moments later, she was able to form only one coherent thought.

  This is what all the fuss is about.

  Chapter 12

  Her blazing ass cheeks were scalding his skin every time Eamon thrust, a hot reminder of what he’d dished out—and she’d willingly taken. Newbie or not, she was definitely kinky.

  Yet she still hadn’t admitted anything to him, not even when he’d broken out the huge wooden paddle with blister holes. So it was rage and frustration as much as desire driving his fucking, his fist in her hair, his teeth in her shoulder.

  He couldn’t remember ever having been so hard before in his life, and was actually grateful for the condom, as without it, he likely would have already lost his last shred of self-control. Her pelvis was smacking against the cross with every brutal stroke and she was whimpering helplessly, her tight, delicious cunt snatching around his cock as she came.

  Once again, she hadn’t asked for permission but at that point, he was so lost in his own primal desire for her that he didn’t care.

  Reaching around, he cupped her big, soft tits, feeling them bounce in his palms as he fucked her, finding her nipples and squeezing them, deliberately digging his nails in until she let out a cry of anguish, her pussy spasming hard.

  The familiar tightening in his balls and the liquid pull of pleasure heralded his own climax and he came with a roar, plunging deep and staying there, embedded in her, until the last tremors had subsided. With a shaky sigh, he withdrew carefully, gratified to see the impression his teeth had made in the creamy white skin where her neck met her shoulder.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said hoarsely, realizing that, once again, he hadn’t even gotten undressed all the way—his pants were gaping open and he still had his boots on.

  Fuck, but she drove him wild.

  Depositing the condom in the trash, he took a washcloth out of one of the drawers, picked up a blanket and returned to the cross.

  Tasha was still hanging from the cuffs, her plump ass a delicious shade of crimson, with one or two violet bruises beginning to form. She barely seemed to register him as he wiped carefully between her legs and undid the restraints, holding her up as she sagged against his chest.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured, “I’ve got you.”

  Once he’d wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, he pulled her to him again, feeling her hands for the telltale signs that the circulation had been cut off too much or for too long.

  There were none.

  Still supporting her with one arm, he bent and gathered her uniform off the floor. “Can you take this?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Good girl.” He gave her the small bundle to hold and picked up her shoes. “Let’s get you upstairs and into the Jacuzzi.”

  She nodded, apparently dazed. Was she just worn out, or was she in subspace? He couldn’t be
sure but it wouldn’t hurt to be extra careful. Making sure the blanket covered the main part of her body, he picked her up despite her squeak of protest.

  “Shush,” he said, “let me.”

  Her head lolled against his chest as he carried her through the Dungeon and into the service elevator, and a wave of protective, tender warmth washed through him.

  This sudden, strange desire to really take care of someone was new to Eamon, and even as a little voice inside him told him he was wasting his time on her, she’d be gone in less than twenty-four hours anyway, that she’d been dishonest to him since the very first moment they’d met, he found himself embracing it anyway.

  Which was why he carried her up to his apartment, set her gently down on the bed while he filled the Jacuzzi, gave her a cool drink, and then, when the tub was bubbling with warm water, he stripped her of the blanket and helped her in before following suit.

  She sank back with a satisfied sigh only to squeak in dismay a moment later. Eamon felt himself grinning. “Stings a little on your ass, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  He chuckled. “Good. Don’t worry, it will get better in a minute.”

  Tasha leaned back again, the jets making her tits wobble in the most delectable way.

  Down, boy.

  Her hair was darker when it was wet, he noticed, and the developing bruise on her shoulder where he’d bitten her gave him a strange sense of pride. It was his mark on her body, his personal brand on her soft flesh.

  He leaned back himself and closed his eyes, trying to sort through some of the feelings tumbling as insistently through his mind as the bubbles in the tub. His cock ached with renewed longing, but he forced himself to ignore it.

  Eamon was thirty-five years old and he’d never felt this way about a woman before. Ever. In his experience, the first fuck was always the most intense, and on the rare occasions he’d indulged more than once with the same partner, the pleasure had only abated over time.

  With Tasha, the opposite was true. The more he had her, the more he wanted her. She awoke so many different sides in him he’d never even considered before. As a regular grown woman, she brought out a base desire to fuck and claim her, to push her limits and inflict pain to enhance their mutual pleasure. Her adorable Little tendencies made him suddenly long to be her Daddy, to give her stuffies and take her on his knee, to cherish and protect her, and punish her when she was naughty. And the haunted look in her eyes when she thought he wasn’t paying attention made him desperate to get to know her better, to find and slay her demons. That look was why he was still so sure she had a good reason for her dishonesty.

  He just had to find out what it was… and time was running out.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, opening his eyes and glancing over to where she was still relaxing opposite him.

  “Good,” she said softly. “I could get used to this.”

  Me too, he found himself thinking with a jolt. He imagined coming home to her like this every evening and was astonished to discover that the thought was actually a pleasant rather than a frightening one.

  It was something he really didn’t want to dwell on, not under the current circumstances. Pushing it aside, he took a deep breath. “I know I asked you this before but I’d like to hear it again. What made you decide to come work here at the Castle?”

  She opened her dark velvet eyes and looked at him. “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.” He held her gaze even when he noticed the tears beginning to fill hers.

  “I-I can’t tell you. As much as I’d like to, I just… can’t.” She bit her lip and he waited, watching her struggle, forcing himself not to take her in his arms even though he wanted to comfort her with every fiber of his being. He also wanted answers.

  “Why not?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  She looked away, then, and closed her eyes. “I just want you to know… whatever happens… that I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” he prompted when she trailed off, her lower lip and chin wobbling.

  Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, swallowed hard and met his questioning gaze. “Please,” she said, “I can’t talk about it right now. I will tell you, I promise. Just… not right now. Please.”

  “Look, sweetheart, whatever it is, I’m sure we can work it out. But I can’t help you unless you tell me.”

  “I’m going to.” Her expression was pleading. “I will. Just please let me enjoy this a little while longer.”

  A heavy sense of dread took root in his gut and he had to steel himself against the sudden clutch in his heart at her words. A little while longer implied that, once she’d told him, this—whatever this was—would be over. He forced himself to give a casual shrug. “All right,” he said tightly, looking away, no longer able to stand the haunted look which had returned to her big eyes.

  The water swooshed as she crossed the tub and settled herself beside him. A moment later, her hand was circling his cock.

  “Don’t,” he growled.

  “Please,” she whispered. “I just want to be close to you.” She was stroking him now, and he felt himself jerk against her fingers.

  “I fucking swear, Tasha,” he said in a low voice, “if you don’t stop…”

  “Why?” She pouted playfully. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

  It felt too damn good. That was the problem. He had to resist the urge to grab the back of her head and push her underwater, force her to suck him. “I don’t have a condom here,” he managed, trying to sound reasonable.

  “I don’t care. Besides, I’m on birth control.”

  Next moment she was straddling him, lowering herself carefully onto his pounding dick.

  At the feel of her tight heat without the usual rubber barrier, he snatched her face between his hands and crushed his lips to hers, his tongue delving deep. He didn’t ever kiss his clients, but there was something about Tasha’s delectable mouth which drove him crazy and he couldn’t help himself. Besides, she wasn’t a client.

  She wound her arms around him and returned his embrace, slowly grinding her hips, moaning softly, breathlessly as she rode him.

  Rage battled with desire. Eamon wasn’t used to being so openly defied. Women seduced him, sure, but the moment he decided to go ahead and fuck them, he did just that, taking over.

  Sitting almost passively in his own hot tub while Tasha ignored his orders to stop and decided to just go ahead anyway—breaking his cardinal rule about always using protection in the process—only enhanced his need to regain control, to show her who was boss.

  His hands found her bruised ass and he dug his fingers in, making her yelp into his mouth. Then he bit her lower lip and pulled away. “Enough,” he said icily.

  She stopped moving and gazed at him.

  “Get out, dry off, and get on the bed. Now.”

  He was expecting protests but instead he felt her pussy clench around him—once, hard—before she disentangled herself and got out of the tub without a single word.

  “Towels are over there.” He pointed.

  She dried herself right there in front of him and he watched her, marveling at her lush, curvy body and the marks he’d put on her ass and neck.

  When she was done, she slung the towel over a hook and left.

  Eamon leaned over and switched off the jets, his cock already aching for more. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then exited the tub himself and grabbed a fresh towel. She had obeyed him without question and the feeling was exhilarating. Now it was time to join her on the bed and take back control, once and for all.

  Tasha could feel Master Eamon’s heart thumping slowly and steadily beneath her cheek as she replayed the evening’s events over and over again in her mind.

  Every square inch of her body felt sore, and used, and just thinking about all the things he’d done to her was enough to make her already aching pussy clench with desire for more.


  He’d fucked her mouth until she was gagging, his hands clamped on her head, guiding her, forcing her to take him deeper until she couldn’t breathe.

  He’d taken her from behind, one huge hand wrapped around both her wrists, pulling her on to his cock until she’d seen stars.

  And he’d even taken her ass, using plenty of lube and going slowly at first, ordering her to bear down, to relax and take it, and every command he uttered in that deep, throaty voice only served to excite her more, to make her desperate to obey.

  When he’d finally sunk his entire, thick length all the way inside her most secret and private place, he’d reached around and stroked her clit. He only had to growl, “Now,” a moment later and she’d climaxed helplessly, the sensation of him filling her ass making her fluttering pussy drip onto the sheets as she shuddered and moaned. And that was before he’d even started to thrust.

  Tasha had never experienced anything like it before and she was finally beginning to understand the appeal of BDSM, of surrendering control—and your body—to someone else. Especially if that someone was as skilled as Master Eamon. He was like an addiction… the more she had, the more she wanted. She didn’t think she’d ever get enough.

  Even the pain excited her, and the resulting marks were something she cherished. He caused that, she’d find herself thinking, prodding a bruise on her neck or thigh.

  They had fucked every which way, stopping only to take a quick shower or rest before starting all over again, and throughout it all, he had been in complete control, growling orders, positioning her the way he wanted. Using her like she belonged to him.

  That thought alone was exhilarating.

  She had slept a little but spent much of the deep, dark night simply enjoying his presence; his huge arms wrapped tightly around her, his chiseled, brooding face somehow softer in sleep, his warmth seeping into her skin.

  But now the sun was coming up, the golden light growing brighter through the cracks in the curtains, and the dread deep in her belly was getting harder and harder to ignore.