Masters of the Castle: Witness Protection Program

by Maren Smith

  Terror ripped through her, creating a wave of nausea. There were no worries about opening up to some outsider. That wasn’t in her nature, and besides, she’d been burned on one too many occasions on various assignments. This case wasn’t about just being undercover. This was about finding the frightened and yearning woman inside. Unable to focus, she gripped the file, fighting back tears. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I’m certain you will. Just remember that this assignment is extremely dangerous. You could have not one but two assassins in the same location. Be careful. I don’t want to lose you over this. You’re far too valuable. If there is a single hint that your cover has been blown, I’ll pull you off this case.”

  Cassandra nodded, her mind reeling.

  “Certain modern conveniences, such as cell phones, are only allowed in certain locations within the Castle; however, I expect you to keep me updated. Call me after you are settled. I’ll do what I can to find out more about the remaining witness and you’ll have everything I know about Massino’s messed up hit.” Sheila’s smile faded, her expression stoic. “By the way, inside the folder is some paperwork for you to fill out immediately, an email address for you to send the information.”

  Cassandra absently wiped perspiration from the top of her lip. “What kind of paperwork?”

  Shrugging, Sheila walked back around her desk, obviously uncomfortable. “Likes. Dislikes. Tolerances. Kinky shit, if you ask me, but you have to maintain the role. I’ve already sent everything else they require, including your picture. You need to handle the rest.”

  “I’ll take care of everything right away.”

  “Good luck. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

  As Cass walked out of Sheila’s office, she realized for the first time in her life that she could be freed from the very chains she’d suffered her entire life.

  This could be a new beginning.

  Or, this could mean her death.

  Chapter 2

  Granger, Ohio. Cassandra was stuck in the middle of bumfuck pastureland. The plane ride from New York was supposed to allow her time to investigate, develop a plan. Instead, she’d fretted the majority of the time, concentrating on her own fears of the unknown. Was she really going to be forced to submit to some stranger? In all her undercover roles during the last few years, this might prove to be the one capable of breaking her. Her wonderful boss was relying on her; how many times had she heard that statement?

  She removed her sunglasses before going inside the Starbucks. Maybe a jolt of caffeine was exactly what she needed prior to the bus ride taking her to the Castle. Sheila had been correct; there was a ton of information freely available on the web. Most had been in the form of reviews from happy guests, except for one fascinating article written by a local reporter. The girl had spent time behind the hallowed walls and her review had been more than helpful.

  The nagging little voice inside Cassandra’s head had been continually reminding her that her recent visit to Club Noire hadn’t been the first time she’d gone to a BDSM club. She’d certainly had her share of experimentation during college, but given what little she knew about the Castle, what she’d experienced had been child’s play in comparison. You can do this. Uh-huh. As if the pep talk was going to do her any good. What if the Dom she was paired with was a pudgy used car salesman? What if he smelled? No, what if he was a true sadist? Safewords. She knew there were safewords. Either that or she’d secure a weapon to use.

  She certainly did have her gun with her. The thought gave her a needed smile.

  There were certain aspects she knew about her personality. One of them had never varied. She hated surprises of any kind. At least she’d been able to read over the file on the girl The Butcher had been hired to eradicate. There was no indication she was staying at the Castle, but the innuendoes and leaked information pointed more fingers than Cass knew what to make of. The Butcher had never missed his target, even if his reputation was sloppy. One thing was for certain, Slice had his work cut out for him. A ridiculous giggle slipped past her lips, causing the diminutive young girl behind the counter to scowl.

  After grabbing a Mocha Latte, she waited on the sidewalk for the bus, anticipating or maybe praying that she’d be alone, very much alone on the ride. At least she could take the time to prepare herself. Submission. You can do it. Now, her pushy little voice and the grating vibe was akin to some sports pep talk, but damn if she didn’t need one. She controlled her breathing, savoring the flavor of the latte, pretending this was just another assignment.

  She thought about the questionnaire she’d been required to fill out and send. She’d never felt so uncomfortable, even during gynecological examinations.

  What do you enjoy? Check all that apply.

  Spanking

  Flogging

  Pet Play

  Medical Experiments

  Bondage

  Age play

  Check. Check. Check. No check. Check. Maybe.

  “Whew.” The list was almost two pages. Then the form had asked about her limitations. As far as hard limits? She wasn’t entirely certain she’d even answered. Suddenly, her mouth was dry, unable to remember anything she’d marked. Except for spanking and… She’d actually marked she was interested in pet play, kittens and puppies and rainbows, oh my. She had to be out of her mind. Simply going to Club Noire, engaging with the stranger, the sexy, rugged and engaging stranger had pushed her boundaries.

  Leaning against the outside wall, she took a few sips before donning her sunglasses and closing her eyes.

  “You will submit to my every desire, no matter what I ask.” His deep voice resonated in the room, his hot breath cascading across her already heated face.

  “Yes, sir,” she answered without hesitation, her ass stinging from the punishment she’d received earlier.

  “Kneel at my feet.” His arms remained on his hips, his luminescent green eyes reflecting his displeasure.

  Dropping between his legs, she lowered her head, awaiting his command.

  “I have a surprise for you, my sweet pet.”

  The feel of fur dangling across the back of her neck and shoulders gave her a series of shivers. When he lifted her chin with a single finger, she fought the nervous whimper threatening to expose her trepidation. The bulbous ass plug was attached to a long, silky tail. A cat’s tail.

  “You will wear this for the entire weekend.”

  “Squee! I’m so excited. I can’t believe we’re going.”

  The southern twang as well as the sharp cry dragged Cassandra out of her latest fantasy. She blinked several times in an attempt to focus, finally realizing she was no longer alone. At least two dozen women and a few men were crowding the sidewalk near her, all of various ages, sizes, and heritage. Another quick glance at her watch forced a slight groan. She’d been in la-la land for a solid ten minutes.

  “I know. This is the highlight of my month, my year. Oh, who the hell am I kidding? My life,” another shrill voice exclaimed, as if letting everyone else know her thoughts were vital.

  Cassandra crowded closer to the corner of the building, her anxiety building. Why couldn’t she have the same level of excitement? The studious, intelligent, conservative agent inside poked her hard, a solid reminder that she was here to do her job and nothing else. Besides, fantasies weren’t real. She listened to the banter, learning tidbits about why the women were so excited, their hopes and dreams in being assigned the perfect Master, and all she wanted to do was vomit.

  Thank God, less than ten minutes later she was safely tucked all the way in the back of the bus, with at least two seats between her and the rest of the motley crew. And they were still jabbering about how this was going to increase their sex life. Uh-huh. They had no clue what the true meaning of BDSM entailed. This was nothing but a game to them.

  After the bus jerked to a start, rolling away from the small town, she went over the various details in her mind, all the information safely tucked away in a hiding place in
her suitcase. No one could know her true identity or her purpose. Being kicked out was the last of her concerns.

  “I had a girlfriend who came here last year. She purchased this as a gift for my birthday.”

  Cassandra noticed the blush creeping up along the younger woman’s cheeks, the way she continued to fiddle with her hair. At least someone else was just as uncomfortable.

  “Don’t worry, Jenny. The Masters are highly skilled in all aspects of bondage, punishment, figging, cupping, and so much more. You’ll be in safe hands.” The older woman’s appearance was pleasant, and no doubt she was someone’s grandmother. Comforting and caring.

  The image floating in Cass’s mind was of PTA meetings. She bit back a laugh, homing in on the engine sounds as the bus made a wide right turn, swinging past several columns. All she could see was acres and acres of wheat, the green tendrils flowing in the light breeze. There was no way an actual castle had been built on the outskirts of an Ohio town.

  But she was very wrong.

  “Oh, gosh! Look!” Another series of squeals was met with whistles as several of the women clambered to the other side of the bus, drinking in the panorama.

  Cassandra didn’t have to move anywhere. As the gothic structure came into view, she shrank further into her seat. There was no adequate way to describe the massive building; the intricate stonework and impressive architecture breathtaking. Everything seemed to be completely true to history, as if the castle had been brought over from England, or perhaps Scotland. From the curtain wall to the various portcullises, the drawbridge and even… As they pulled closer, she could see an actual moat. “What the hell?” Well, maybe she could drown Slice. Perhaps there were alligators. That would solve her issues.

  She couldn’t help but smile.

  Two buses were in front, the majority of guests already having disembarked. Cassandra was the very last person in line, the group spilling out onto the drawbridge, allowing her an opportunity to scan the exterior. She had no idea of the square footage, but the intrinsic configuration, the way the footprint seemed to go on forever meant there were dozens if not hundreds of places to hide within the hallowed walls. Then again, did Carmen The Butcher have a need to hide?

  The various outbuildings and fencing, even several corrals, were truly beautiful, highlighting the pristine landscaping, the peaceful countryside. A flock of birds passed overhead, giving her a moment of peace as she tilted her head, enjoying the warmth of the sun. A reflection caught her attention and even with her sunglasses, she was forced to shield her eyes. There was a lone figure standing in the window, watching. Studying her.

  Craning her neck, she removed her glasses, trying to get a better look. Her instinct kicked in, telling her in no uncertain terms she’d seen this man before. Where? Her mouth was dry, her pulse racing. If only she could get a better look. She crowded closer, squinting in an effort to focus. Hmm… Her instinct was flying high.

  “Right this way. We have a busy agenda this afternoon.”

  “Yes!” She realized she’d actually snapped at the poor woman and offered a kind smile before darting another look at the window.

  The stranger had disappeared.

  Maybe her mind was playing tricks. Cassandra counted to three before walking toward the shaded canopy.

  “And you are?” the woman asked.

  “Winter Simmons,” Cassandra stated, although she heard angst in her tone. She remembered she’d used the name Winter at the club. Maybe not the best choice, but one that had been placed on her application by the director. Along with occupation: Paralegal. At least she could fake that if necessary.

  “Yes. Here we are. You’ll need to wear your bracelet at all times and you will use the name given. Orientation will begin in less than fifteen minutes. All the information you need to know is in your packet. Please stay in character and have a wonderful time.”

  “Thank you.” She was fascinated by all the red tape required for entrance alone. After climbing the stairs, she was led down a series of corridors, trailing behind at least forty other people. Everything about the interior was glorious, meticulously decorated with ornate rugs and tapestry, gilded sconces and velvet drapes. Whoever owned the Castle must have millions.

  “Bracelets, please.”

  The command came from the other side of the room. Opening the folder, she noticed her name first and a cold chill swept down her body. This was real. This was happening. The letters, written in a script signature, the ink bold and black, meant the beginning of an adventure. Scarlet. The chill moved into a wave of heat, sliding ever so slowly straight into her pussy.

  She was wet and hot.

  Sebastian waited just at the top of the stairs, uncertain whether he would be allowed to participate. While his reputation as a true Master had no doubt preceded his arrival, he wasn’t here to make waves of any kind. He was, in a sense, at the mercy of a man he’d only met once. Would Eric remember? He stood by the window, studying the people as they left the bus, crowding together as if swapping stories or sharing their excited anticipation of the weekend events.

  He’d often though about coming to the Castle, but his work prevented indulging in his pleasures. This would prove to be an interesting challenge. At least he had a distinct advantage. He knew exactly what Massino looked like. Sadly, vice versa, although Sebastian’s appearance had changed during the last ten years. Unfortunately, Massino could stay masked or behind closed doors, but not for the entire stay. Noticing the last guest leaving the bus, he could tell she was hanging back. A trickle of recognition flagged the back of his mind, forcing him to look closer.

  The woman was dressed in blue jeans and a light-colored shirt, her long red hair sweeping past her shoulders, blowing lightly in the breeze.

  “Mmm…” He realized his cock was twitching, awakened by some primitive need. Shifting until he was out of the direct sun, he was able to catch a better look. Fascinating. “Why hello, Miss Law Enforcement Officer.” He was almost positive she was the same girl from the club two nights before. Karma had a sick sense of humor. If he was right about his suspicions, then someone had talked to the police, informing them of his weekend plans. Or perhaps this was about Massino’s side of brutal justice. Either way, he would be forced to find out what she knew.

  The weekend had just taken a delicious turn for the better.

  “Sebastian, or I should call you Master Sebastian.” The man’s tone was light, welcoming.

  Sebastian smiled before turning away from the window, his hunger increasing. “Master Eric. Been a long time.” He held out his hand.

  “Yes, it has. Welcome. I see you finally took me up on the offer,” Eric said as he grinned.

  “I’ve been so busy with work that this was my first opportunity. I appreciate you squeezing me in.”

  “We had a cancellation, so the timing was perfect. I have a basic set of rules and all the information you need regarding the Castle. The Meet and Greet will be in about thirty minutes, so you’ll have plenty of time to get into costume. We have your list of requirements for a submissive and I’m certain we can find you the perfect woman to suit your needs.”

  Hmm… Perhaps the costume was an excellent idea. Sebastian took the folder, contemplating. “There is one submissive in particular that might be of interest to me.”

  Eric laughed. “You have a preference already. A feat, given some have just arrived. Well, we can certainly arrange it, as long as I can locate who you are talking about before the orientation. We’ll need to check with Master Marshall, it’s his decision. I’ll have to see if he’s in.”

  “Whatever I need to do. This is very important to me. I plan on indulging the lovely woman with her greatest desires.” Sebastian followed behind Eric, a calculating smile remaining on his face.

  “Sounds like a very lucky lady.”

  “I can’t say luck is going to be involved.”

  Sebastian wasn’t entirely surprised at Scarlet’s choices on her questionnaire, especially given the wa
y she’d reacted to the play room at the club. Having changed into black pants and a peasant shirt, his rendition of Zorro, complete with the fabric mask, it was actually to his liking. From his vantage point, he was able to enjoy watching his new submissive from across the ballroom. If Massino was in the room, all the better, although given the wide selection of costumes, the man could simply be hiding in plain sight. He adjusted the two bracelets he was required to wear at all times, turning his attention to the others in the room. At this point, there was no sign of anyone resembling The Butcher. Perhaps the assassin was arriving at another time or already sequestered in one of the guest rooms.

  Or even hiding in the Dungeon.

  His eyes fell once again on the lovely submissive, allowing his gaze to fall from her kitty cat ears to her collar, the slinky bodysuit and, as she turned, her long tail. Mesmerized, he took several steps closer, amused at how uncomfortable she seemed. He gathered a feeling about her, his keen observations coming into play. She was normally very much in control, but was completely out of her element in this environment, a far cry from her actions at Club Noire. He’d been correct in his assumptions.

  She was here on assignment.

  As he moved through the crowd, the various guests parted, allowing him to pass, their eyes sweeping up and down his massive frame, lingering on the peace-tied sword attached to his belt. He stood several inches taller than the majority of men in the room, including the servants. In his mind, another advantage. Walking slowly, he wanted her to notice him, to understand that she belonged to him, if only for a few days.

  He stopped just two feet away, waiting as patiently as possible until she noticed him, her eyes opening wide. Holding out his hand, he beckoned with his fingers, saying nothing, but knowing his demeanor was one of complete control. She studied his eyes, as if able to gather a sense of him behind the mask. There was a flicker of recognition, a moment of direct and very electric connection, taking his breath away.