Masters of the Castle: Witness Protection Program

by Maren Smith

  “Slaver’s Kiss, Holly. You must learn that punctuality is a virtue.”

  “Yes, sir.” She lifted her ass off her heels and bent forward until she could rest her cheek on the floor then put her hands behind her neck. Her short skirt rode up, exposing her backside. Her thong would present no barrier to Master David’s crop.

  It was Master David’s favorite position for punishment. She spared a brief, waspish thought that she should have just gotten into Slaver’s Kiss when he walked in the door.

  Then again, if she was going to die this weekend, a cropping from Master David was a good sendoff. At least she’d die with a smile on her face. He never asked his kajirae to count, nor did he tell them how many whacks they’d get. He wasn’t unfair or overly harsh, though. The punishments he delivered always fit the crime. Holly had been around long enough to know she’d get five or maybe ten, and he’d give her a short cuddle before calling her a good girl.

  Yep, it was going to be a jolly fare thee well and fuck right off to this mortal coil.

  Chapter 2

  Flint waited until Carmen turned the corner and disappeared along with the rest of the dominants who had shared the bus. He was supposed to have been a switch for the weekend, but the only person who would have a problem with the change would be Carmen.

  Trotting up the stairs, he veered toward the waiting area in front of the owner’s office. A very pregnant woman greeted him. She wore a low-cut burgundy velvet dress, exposing the tops of her breasts. The long skirt swirled around her ankles. A Gothic black collar rested around her neck with a lock nestled in the cleft between her collarbones. There was a word inscribed on the lock, but he couldn’t make it out.

  “Good afternoon, sir, and welcome to the Castle. How may I assist you today?”

  “I’d like to request a program change, please.”

  “Of course, sir. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll inform Master Marshall of your request. May I tell him your name?”

  “Miguel Reyes.”

  “Thank you. Give me a moment to retrieve your file, please.” Gesturing him toward a leather chair, she disappeared into an office. She returned, carrying a file, and knocked on the closed door on the other side of the foyer.

  When a low voice muttered through the door, she opened it and said, “Sir, Mr. Miguel Reyes would like to request a program change.”

  The male voice spoke again and she nodded once before turning around. “Master Marshall will be happy to help with your request, sir. Would you care for a drink?”

  “No, thank you.”

  The woman escorted him into the office and laid the file on the desk before a blond man with blue eyes. She left, shutting the door behind her.

  “Have a seat, Mr. Reyes,” Master Marshall said.

  Flint sank into a comfortable leather chair on the other side of a massive mahogany desk. He would normally compare a desk that large to a sports car—meaning the man who owned it was compensating for a shortcoming elsewhere. However, this desk bore evidence of a tremendous workload.

  Paper covered the entire surface, filling both the old-fashioned ‘in’ and ‘out’ boxes. Master Marshall grimaced and shoved some of the detritus into a stack.

  “Forgive the mess. I’m running behind.” He opened the file and flipped through the first few pages. “You’re currently registered as a switch for the fantasy program as a Greek slave to Master Ricardo, is that correct?”

  “Yes. I would like to move to the Gorean program as a Master for the remainder of my stay.”

  “Very well.” Master Marshall picked up a quill pen and dipped it in a pot of ink. He wrote in the file for several seconds before continuing. “Your reservation has been changed. Do you have a specific submissive you’d like?”

  “Yes. I saw her when I arrived. She has differently colored eyes.”

  Master Marshall nodded. “That would be Holly. She’s familiar with the Gorean lifestyle and enjoys that program. If you agree to the terms and she consents, I’ll make the arrangements.”

  There was every chance Holly would refuse. Flint knew she’d recognized him and Carmen both. Maybe she would run instead. She had to be terrified. That would be safer for her, and he’d do what he came to do without worrying about her. “What terms?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Master Marshall folded his hands over his stomach. “You and Master Ricardo will both be escorted to the room you were to have shared, and you will be moved to the appropriate wing.”

  “Okay. Why the escort?”

  “Master Ricardo might not be pleased with your decision. We don’t ask questions of our guests, though. It’s none of our business. Our focus is on keeping this resort peaceful and we have found that an escort for both parties keeps things quiet. In addition, if you two feel the need to fight, do it at home where you won’t bother anyone.”

  Flint nodded. The policy would be perfect for his purposes. Carmen would have no chance to argue. If Holly accepted, he’d confine her to their room, figure out some way to protect Grace, and let housekeeping find Holly afterward. “That’s a good idea. Thank you.”

  “We thought so. I’ll send a runner to ask Holly if she consents to your program. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, and you’re welcome to make yourself comfortable in the outer office while you wait.”

  Smiling agreeably, Flint followed him out. Computers would have made the process easier, but he could see the charm in old-fashioned paper and runners to deliver messages. This place was designed to be just a bit out of step with the modern world, though evidence of expensive technology was everywhere. Well-hidden security cameras were obvious if one knew what to look for. Even in the owner’s inner sanctum, the security cameras scanned, leaving no blind spots for an enterprising criminal.

  The thorough security would make things much more difficult for Carmen, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. It was bound to anger Carmen, and he could be erratic when in a mood. Flint shook off the thoughts, knowing he had bigger problems to deal with. Namely, keeping Holly out of Carmen’s reach.

  Master Marshall returned a few minutes later. “If you’ll follow me, we’ll finish setting up your new program.”

  Flint accompanied the taller man back into the office and sat on the other side of the desk.

  “Good news, Mr. Reyes—actually, Master Miguel now. Holly has agreed to join you in the Gorean program. I’m sure you’ve read about how we do things here, but I’ll reiterate quickly before your escort arrives. Holly’s personal safeword is artichoke. She can also use the Castle safeword you were given at Orientation, if necessary.” His gaze hardened, the blue eyes turning flinty. “Listen to the first and she won’t use the second. Even a kajira is allowed a safeword here.”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. May I have your red bracelet, please?”

  Flint slipped it off, exchanging it for the orange one Master Marshall gave him.

  “Since you’ve identified as a dominant, you may not remove your white bracelet. Your escort will arrive shortly to assist with your move. Holly will be brought to you in a few hours, after she finishes in Wardrobe. They will have a costume for you as well. I believe it’s a leather kilt and sandals. If you have any special requests regarding Holly’s appearance, stop by the stylist on your way. Do you have any questions before I let you go?”

  Flint wanted to chuckle. Though polite, the dismissal was clear. “No. You’ve been very helpful. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, Master Miguel.” He stood and held out a hand. Flint took it, giving it a few pumps before letting go. As he turned to leave, Master Marshall said, “Oh, one more thing. Holly had a bit of a panic attack earlier today. She insists she’s fine, but you might consider taking her to an early supper. Thursday is Italian night, and the eggplant parmesan is delicious.”

  “Good idea. I didn’t get lunch. Thanks again for your help.”

  “Any time.”

  Flint nodded his thanks and left the office, closing the door b
ehind him. Two men in black security uniforms waited outside. Both had military short haircuts and unsmiling faces. They could have been twins.

  “Master Miguel, welcome to the Castle. We’ll escort you to get your things.”

  “Thanks.” He followed behind them past several play areas, making a note of Wardrobe for a return trip. A few minutes later, his escort stopped in front of a door. Carmen, along with two other security guards, was waiting. Surprisingly, Carmen didn’t seem unhappy. In fact, a wicked smirk hid behind the overgrown beard covering his face.

  Deciding to nip the coming fight in the bud, Flint said, “Hey, boss. You said we could play this weekend and I found a girl I had to have. No hard feelings, right?”

  “Nope. None at all. We’ll have our meeting on Sunday morning instead. Does that work for you?”

  Not really, no. He wanted this over and done with so he could get Carmen away from Holly, and maybe think of a way to protect Grace without tipping Carmen off. Now there would be yet another woman who would be caught up in Carmen’s plots. “Sure, boss. Thanks for the time off.”

  Flint walked into the sumptuous room ahead of the two security guards and picked up his bag. For a split second, he considered taking the black duffel Carmen had gotten in Toledo. He could pretend to kill Grace Barnes, maybe fake her death somehow to give her enough time to hide. Carmen would have no reason to stay after that. The thought was tempting but he couldn’t do it. He’d be risking two years of work and countless lives. He would have to come up with a better idea, and fast.

  His escort showed him to his new room, a duplicate of the one he was to have shared with Carmen. Dropping his bag on the bed, he made tracks to Wardrobe. It was time to turn into Master Miguel.

  Kajirae of varying ages and body types walked sedately behind their Masters. They all wore the same garment; a sheer length of pale pink fabric cut into a deep V in the front and back. Ties secured the sides at the waist, leaving their bodies essentially bare.

  Their Masters wore kilts or leather pants and boots. He saw dress shirts, a few polos, and even a linen poet’s shirt. He didn’t give a single fuck what he wore, but the thought of seeing Holly in the dress of a kajira made all the blood in his head pool in his cock.

  Flint pushed the image aside. He didn’t have time for fantasy. Instead, he imagined her gorgeous blue and green eyes closed forever. By the time he reached Wardrobe and the salon across the corridor, his cock was limp and his balls were so far inside his belly they would probably never come back out. But the sight of the salon gave him an idea.

  A pretty girl with green and pink striped hair smiled at him as he walked into the salon. Her nametag read ‘Stacey.’ “Can I help you, Master?”

  “Yes. My kajira Holly should be here, and I have a request for her appearance.”

  She glanced down at the old-fashioned appointment book and nodded. “Yes, sir. She’s being waxed right now. We should be finished with her in the next half hour or so. Would you like me to send her to you?”

  “Yes, but I’d also like someone to dye her hair red.”

  Stacey frowned and shifted uncomfortably. “We can’t alter her hair color permanently without her permission, sir. I am very sorry—”

  “Temporary is perfect. I’d also like it left down so it falls over her face when she lowers her head.”

  Stacey gave him a relieved smile. “Yes, sir. I’ll give the stylist your instructions. The color will last about a month, so it should be fine for your stay with us. Master David will escort her to your room when she’s ready.”

  It was too early to pat himself on the back for his stroke of genius. Carmen was not a fan of redheads, unlike the vast majority of the male population. It was the best disguise Flint could think of for a woman who would be as good as naked for the next three days.

  Master David left after delivering a few swats to Holly’s ass with his crop. She rubbed the sting away, then changed out of her uniform and into a robe. Tightening the sash, she glanced around at the place she’d called home for two years. She would miss it. A tear trickled down her cheek as she closed the door behind her and walked away.

  Stacey’s pretty face bloomed with a smile when she walked into the salon. “You just made it! Thirty seconds left on the timer Master David gave me.” She stood and hustled Holly into the back room. “Lisa will be right with you. She stepped out for just a few minutes. We’ve got waxing, and your kef…” Stacey laughed and shook her head. “You know the drill better than I do.”

  Stacey was another person Holly would miss. How could she not love that wild hair and infectious grin? “Yeah, I’ve got it down.”

  “Awesome! I’ll do your kef when Lisa’s done. It can dry while we do your hair.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Holly untied her robe and laid it on a chair as Stacey went back to her station. She lay down on the table, covering herself with a white sheet as she inhaled the scent of lavender emanating from a vaporizer. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a few minutes of peace, but then Lisa bustled in, her wax pot at the ready.

  Twenty painful minutes later, Holly’s cooch was as bare as a baby’s butt and Stacey was busy painting a henna kef that marked a Gorean slave on her thigh. As Stacey finished, the bell above the salon door chimed, announcing a visitor.

  “I’ll be right back to touch it up.” Not waiting for an answer, Stacey rushed out to greet the new customer, but returned a few minutes later with a scowl.

  “What’s up?” Holly asked.

  “That was Master Miguel. He wants us to dye your hair red. We’ll use temporary color, unless you want a permanent change.”

  Holly blinked in surprise. Why would Mario want her hair color changed? With a sick feeling of despair, she realized it would make her body harder to identify. Maybe it was time to go to Master Marshall. She didn’t want to die, and the thought of dying without trying to bring Carmen down made her belly clench. Was she such a coward that she wouldn’t try?

  “Okay. It’s all good.”

  An hour later, Holly’s hair fell to the middle of her back in russet waves. She fingered a strand as she peered into Stacey’s mirror. It was unusual, but didn’t look half bad.

  “I got your costume while you were processing. I figured it would save some time.” Stacey held out the sheer length of pink silk and helped her put it on. When the last knot was tied at Holly’s waist, she said, “Master David is waiting. He’ll do your collar and cuffs.”

  “Okay.” She followed Stacey to the reception area, still playing with the ends of her newly red hair. The dried henna on her thigh itched and she had to stop herself from scratching at it.

  Master David frowned when he saw her. “What did you do to your hair?”

  “The color is Master Miguel’s request, sir. It’ll wash out in a month or so.”

  He gestured at her to lift her hair and snapped her collar in place. “Good. I like it better natural.”

  “Me too.” Master David barked out a laugh and Holly flushed. She hadn’t meant for her muttered reply to be heard. “Sorry, sir.”

  “No problem. I won’t have to worry about you messing with it.” He paused as he fiddled with the collar, turning the ring to the front of her neck. “I’d like to set up a time to meet with you early next week about making a permanent move to my staff.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, stopping when he held up a hand.

  “You aren’t required to accept. Your job as a Little Maid will stay the same if you decline.”

  Damn Carmen Massino all over again! She must have truly pissed someone off in a previous life. She’d been dying for a chance to join Master David, and she wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy it. Rather than make a promise she wouldn’t be able to keep, she nodded and said, “Thank you for the generous offer, Master David. I look forward to our talk.”

  Kneeling, he fixed cuffs to her ankles and patted her calf before standing. She held out her wrists, allowing him to finish her costume and snap a chai
n leash to the collar. The collar and cuffs were a matched set of steel made by their in-house blacksmith and powder coated a dusty pink. They were comfortable and water wouldn’t hurt them. Each set was custom made and fitted. Holly would wear them all the time if she were allowed, but they were kept only for guest programs unless she could join Master David’s staff.

  She touched the smooth metal around her neck. Maybe they would be found when Carmen and Mario disposed of her body.

  Master David picked up the end of her leash. “Are you ready to meet your Master for the weekend?”

  No. “Yes, sir.” She straightened her spine and followed him from the salon. She might be dead tonight, but she wasn’t going to cower, and she was going to make Mario sorry. Despite her brave words to herself, her feet dragged as she followed Master David down the corridor toward the Gorean rooms.

  She should say something now, before they reached Mario’s room! But the words wouldn’t come. Terror blocked them and her lungs froze as Master David knocked on the door. She should have refused and told. It wasn’t too late! She could do it now before—

  The door opened, revealing Mario, and she was out of time. If she balked now, Master David might get hurt. The thought of Meghan grieving her husband made Holly swallow the words back as she looked into Mario’s deep brown eyes.

  Chapter 3

  Holly was terrified and Flint’s heart ached at the fear etched on her pallid face. He hated it, hated knowing he was the cause of her dread. He had no way of comforting her, and she should be scared. It might keep her alive.

  Her handler gave a soft order and she dropped to her knees, her hair falling forward to cover her face when she lowered her head. The artificial red didn’t suit her. It washed out her already pale skin and cast dark shadows under her haunted eyes. Flint hated it. Thank God it was temporary.