Masters of the Castle: Witness Protection Program

by Maren Smith

  Sebastian took another sip of his drink, able to see by the woman’s reaction that she was fascinated but frightened. Perhaps this was too much to begin with. He inched closer, until he was directly behind her. Inhaling her perfume, the exotic scent filling his nostrils, he envisioned his particular methods of training. He would enjoy breaking her down to a basic level, providing discipline as well as pleasure, but only if she was a very good student.

  She tensed, as if knowing he was standing only a few inches away, yet a smile curled across her lips. The woman didn’t fidget, nor did she cower, two traits he abhorred. Additional points in her favor.

  “You seem quite interested,” he stated as he lowered his head, allowing a single hot breath to cascade across the back of her neck.

  Her breath skipped, her lips pursed. “Very much so.”

  “You are submissive.” Sebastian fingered the leather collar surrounding her neck, a rather crude leather piece unbefitting her gorgeous attire.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, you can be trained.”

  She darted a quick glance in his direction, blinking several times. “I’d like to be, sir.”

  “And you’re not owned?” He had to admit, he was more than curious.

  “No, sir. I’ve been told I’m… difficult, untrainable.”

  Her statement brought a chuckle to his lips. “All women are trainable. The method used is the key.” He allowed his finger to travel down her neck to the area just above her spine. Electricity shot through him, forcing his balls to swell.

  She remained quiet, only the slightest moan escaping her mouth.

  “I believe you require a very firm hand, harsh discipline and strict rules. You crave the darker side of kink, being captured and caged, your body used while enjoying the taste of ecstasy.”

  Shuddering, she nodded before answering. “Yes, sir.”

  “Training takes time, effort and location. I can only offer you a taste of discipline tonight. Is this something you desire?”

  “Very much so, sir.” Her words were whispered, the lilt captivating in sensuality.

  “What is your name?”

  She licked across the seam of her mouth, as if buying time. “Winter, sir.”

  “Lovely. A woman as warm and beautiful as you should have an equally stunning name. Follow me, Winter.” Sebastian didn’t look back to see if she would follow. He prided himself on being able to read people, especially women. She yearned for an experience she’d only read about in horrific books depicting S & M as easy to understand. Being welcomed into the club was the first step. The owner must consider her worthy. He moved in absolute silence toward a more suitable location, the room known as punishment to the regulars. Taking her hand, he led her inside, securing a location in the back before placing both hands on her shoulders. “Watch and learn.”

  Winter was wide eyed as the first demonstration was given, a masked Dom securing a woman to a steel ‘X’ cross, her naked body quivering as the shackles were placed around her wrists and ankles. The rubber ball gag positioned in her mouth was no doubt to keep her screams from interrupting the others during playtime.

  Sebastian was well aware certain rooms within the club were more for show than any aspect of true BDSM, but he’d always enjoyed the various acts, if only from afar. He’d never brought a submissive to this location, or to any for that matter, and certainly never engaged in play. Why, tonight, was he breaking his own rules? The question was intriguing.

  As the first strike was made, the six-tailed leather piece slicing across the young woman’s buttocks, Winter whimpered, blinking several times. When the second and third were issued, she clamped her mouth shut, tilting her head in order to catch every aspect of discipline.

  “Can you see yourself tethered to the cross, succumbing as I wield a leather strap, punishing you for various infractions?” He was able to see her hardened nipples, outlined given the thin material of her attire. He wanted nothing more than to pinch and twist, giving her a taste of pain. The things he imagined doing to her were some of his darkest visions, his deepest desires.

  “Yes. Sir.” The words said with conviction, she swallowed hard, her lower lip pouting.

  Rubbing the palm of his hand down her spine to her ass, he cupped and squeezed, enjoying the electrifying sensations in his hand. His fingers tingled, longing to strap her naked ass, her breasts and thighs. He could envision her beautiful nipples clamped, a silver chain dangling between her legs. He tapped on her ass twice before crawling the material of her dress past her thighs, rubbing her naked ass cheeks. A simple ‘G’ string was placed between the cheeks of her rounded ass, the lingerie alluring. He traced the line of the thin lace, wiggling his finger between her ass cheeks. “Tell me, are you wet?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Open your legs for me.”

  Obeying instantly, she didn’t utter a sound as he slipped his hand between her thighs, savoring the heat.

  Sebastian eased his finger past the elastic, flicking the tip back and forth against her pussy lips. “Wet and hot, just like you would be every day.”

  She sagged against him, one hand fluttering to her mouth.

  The flogging continued, dragging their attention back to the engaging performance. He smacked her ass with his hand the second the leather strap hit the girl’s behind, following with a second and third, the cracking sound muffled by the murmurs of approval.

  Winter swayed forward and backward, her eyes closing. “Oh!”

  “Watch for me. Pay close attention. One day, I will direct you to remove your clothes and tie you to a similar cross and on that day, I will leave welts on almost every inch of your body.” He smacked her several additional times until the audience began to applaud. What she would never know was that he was extremely observant, knowledgeable regarding body language as well as certain tendencies.

  He also knew two things and only one he had the opportunity to handle.

  One, Winter was on the hunt for certain prey. Her occupation? Law enforcement.

  Two, one day in the not so distant future, he would own her.

  “Asshole! I am going to personally hunt this man down and put a bullet in his brain,” Cassandra Wright stated outright. Quite frankly, she didn’t care who heard her exclamation. She was pissed. No, she was enraged to the point of losing her diplomacy, perhaps even her rationality.

  “You’re not entirely certain he was even at the club.”

  Her partner would have to make fun of her, especially given she’d insisted on going to the BDSM club alone and without backup. She paced the area in front of her desk. How stupid of her to allow a man to entice her, even for a few moments. God. What had she been thinking? “I know Slice was there. I could feel him, almost taste him. The creative bastard.” She glared at Tom, longing to wipe the smug expression off his cherub face.

  “Getting a little personal about a criminal asshole, aren’t you?” Tom leaned over, lifting a single eyebrow. “Or maybe we should say, Master Dom?”

  “Very fucking funny.” She’d followed information about the elusive criminal and expert assassin for two years. Two long years of being one step behind. Known as Slice in both the mafia underground as well as among law enforcement, he’d never been arrested, photographed or seen outside his illustrious circles. His real name wasn’t known, a sticking point in the craw of every law enforcement officer. The Sanduchi family kept his identity top secret, a brilliant method of keeping his enemies on their toes. How many murders had the FBI attributed to the highly skilled assassin? One too many.

  “Hey, you did something that no one else has thought of. You went to the devil’s lair. More than I can say for any of the other agents,” Tom stated, giving her a nod of respect. “Besides that, you were able to get your freak on.” Taking a giant step backward, he held up his hands, laughing as two other agents overheard, chuckling from behind their desks.

  Cassandra gave him a death stare before glancing down at her notes. At this rate,
she’d retire before catching another lead. Her thoughts drifted to the stranger, the mysterious, alluring man who’d managed to slide past her mask of steel, finding the very woman inside she’d kept secret her entire life. Longing to be a submissive, perhaps even a slave, had been her greatest fantasy for some time. She snarled and continued pacing the floor. After his untimely departure, she’d found and grilled the owner of the club as to the man hiding behind his own mask.

  The club owner had maintained a friendly relationship with their office, but she was well aware the man was a snake. He’d sell his own soul for capital if necessary. However, at least he’d been somewhat forthcoming given her grilling session.

  The sexy stranger was simply a regular with particular tastes and she must not have fit the mold, according to the pinch-faced man who hadn’t taken kindly to her forceful demeanor. She’d Googled the name provided, finding enough to convince her he was merely another rich man preferring play things in his life, much like his yacht and expensive cars. And she’d allowed herself to be caught in a moment, forgetting all about her job. Never again.

  Then why was her little voice nagging her?

  “Uh, don’t look now, but I think the boss wants to have a word with you.” Tom nodded to the person in charge. Sheila Applegate was one of the most formidable women the majority of agents had ever come in contact with.

  Seething, she darted a glance in the director’s direction, trying to accumulate the right words to appease the Ice Queen, as she affectionately called the statuesque blonde. “My day is now complete.”

  “And it’s only ten in the morning,” Tom quipped.

  She shot him the finger as she grabbed her iPad, heading toward the director’s office. Once inside, she closed the door automatically, exhaling in order to control the edge. “I’m certain you’d like an update.”

  Sheila gave her a harsh look before walking to the window behind her desk, folding her arms and peering out at the skyline. “I understand that hunting and locating Slice is primary on your agenda.”

  “He is a wanted man, responsible for killing at least twelve individuals that we know of. He’s cunning, intelligent and no doubt harboring an agenda for his next planned assassination.”

  “Said like stating a resume.” Sheila shook her head. “Granted, word on the street is that he’s been very active as of late, reducing the gambling population in a significant manner.”

  Cassandra let out a long breath. “How many bodies?”

  “Only two have been found, along with a member of the Gambini family, and all three attributed to this assassin’s particular method of killing.”

  Skilled in various weaponry, his preferred method of killing was a knife; hence the nickname garnered several years before. He enjoyed the up close and personal aspect over a gun or various other weapons. “And no new leads?”

  Chuckling, Sheila turned. “Well, there has been a significant amount of chatter, a few of our illustrious informants providing information. I wouldn’t have thought anything about what I heard, except, the data came from three different sources.”

  “Interesting. No one has talked in months.”

  “I know, which makes this daunting and dangerous. It’s come to my attention that Slice has been directed to perform a particular assassination. This one is considered high profile and could lead to certain difficulties.”

  “Okay. Who are we talking about?” Her interest was piqued.

  “Carmen ‘The Butcher’ Massino.” She smiled, lifting a single eyebrow.

  “What? Are you certain?” A notorious hit man, the fact another mafia gun was out to take his life meant The Butcher had crossed a line or was a danger to his organization.

  “As certain as I can be. As you are well aware, Mr. Massino has also been a thorn in our side for years. His planned demise could prove to be… interesting.” Sheila snickered.

  Cassandra walked closer to Sheila’s desk. “A mob assassin taking out another mob personality? This is unusual.”

  “Not necessarily. The number of victims, including several witnesses that Massino has clipped over the last few months, has increased. Some say The Butcher is out of control, creating certain difficulties for other mafia families. From what I’ve heard, there was a messy operation recently, several witnesses left, and all because of The Butcher’s carelessness.”

  “The Butcher is slipping,” she mumbled, taking in the information.

  “Evidently. Slice’s anonymity makes him very useful in certain ways. He takes out a rival with little or no fanfare and the Sanduchi family strengthens their hold on New York, perhaps sliding down the East Coast. The kill will no doubt be blamed on some other organization that has nothing to do with the Sanduchis, possibly starting another turf war. Brilliant, if you ask me. Plus, in various eyes, including some agents with the FBI and even the CIA, Slice will look like a golden boy, redeemed.” Sheila whisked her hand in the air, providing a moment of utter drama.

  A golden boy, her ass. The man was ruthless in his executions. There was nothing redeemable about the asshole. She thought about the ramifications, shaking her head at the very thought. “Why did you want to see me?”

  “There is information that this assassination is going down in the next few days. Further, we have reason to believe that the hit itself is taking place at the Castle. I have the file on a recent case. Already several of the eyewitnesses have turned up dead in mysterious and, I might add, horrific manners. The Butcher is trying to clean up his mess. The last remaining possible witness is no doubt a target of our illustrious Butcher. The thinking is that this young lady may be using the location as secure grounds. She has a formidable family, in other words, members of the Castle itself. Safety behind stone walls.” Sheila waited, her face pensive.

  “A castle? What castle?”

  “Not a castle, Cass, the Castle, an exclusive BDSM resort located in Ohio. Have you heard of it?”

  Her thoughts drifted to what she knew about the kink community. “I don’t think so.”

  Sheila slid a paper file across her desk. “Well, time for you to read up on the location. Supposedly it’s one of the most well-known kink resorts in the country. They’ve got a website, brochures, ads posted everywhere, including Fetlife. Anyone with the funds can buy a vacation here, but they’d better have a lot of it. I was on the website for at least an hour this morning. It’s expensive.”

  She fingered the file, her nerves on edge and she wasn’t entirely certain why. “And you’re telling me this information because?”

  Moving from behind her desk, Sheila stood within two feet of Cassandra. “Because I’m placing you on a particular assignment. This one is top secret. Only necessary personnel will know you are being assigned this case. Called in a favor or two to secure a ticket we didn’t have to pay for out of department funds. You are the perfect candidate.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Sheila had a smug look on her face. “I’m aware of your visit to Club Noire last night. The concept could have worked, if you’d been able to catch Slice in action. However, your visit, given what you’ve learned, suggests that he has a penchant for BDSM. Actually, there are a number of circles that consider Slice a Master Dom and I’m certain you’re aware of what this status means.”

  Was she being scrutinized, even chastised for her particular proclivities? If anyone found out, her career could be ruined. “I’ve done significant research on the BDSM community, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Excellent, then this might be your perfect opportunity to catch him, literally, in the act.”

  Cassandra held her breath, her mind reeling. “You want me to go in as the FBI? I doubt they’ll talk. I mean, seriously.”

  Sheila chuckled before shaking her head. “I want you to go in undercover as a submissive, seeking training from experts.”

  Bile formed in her throat, her heart racing. “I don’t think I can do that.” Visions popped into her head, the most incredible vibrant images of being tied to
a cross, her body whipped, taken and used, submitting in every manner as required. She blinked several times, beads of sweat sliding down the back of her neck. “Sheila, I…”

  “You are the only person who can handle this, Cass, and you know it. There is no other way of infiltrating the Castle. The owner is not particularly friendly to outsiders. Even the town of Granger has a distaste for the facility being in their midst. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I expect you to be a team player. Besides, everything is already set in motion. The Castle takes new arrivals only once per day, a 10:00 a.m. bus that picks up at a local coffee shop. To make sure you’re on it, given tomorrow is Friday, you’ll be taking a red-eye flight tonight. I’ve taken the liberty of including your current medical records in the file and there’s an accountability waiver you’ll need to sign and present upon checking in.”

  “You’ve thought of everything,” Cassandra huffed.

  The flash of Sheila’s eyes stated in no uncertain terms to take this seriously. “If my informant is correct, then Slice will indeed be a guest, perhaps already having arrived at the illustrious location. I’m certain there will be other law enforcement officers carrying out undercover roles as well. I know you. You can smell a cop from a mile away. I’d maintain your role at all times, refusing to trust anyone. Read up on the area, the Castle has a hell of a website and they’re pretty free with their information and requirements. Pack your clothes and get ready to leave. And yes, that’s an order.”