Kaylee's Keeper

by Maren Smith

  “Yes, you are.” She hated how childish and petulant that came out sounding.

  “I don’t mean to. All I’m trying to do is impress upon you the importance of not exaggerating or embellishing your responses. This is your vacation. You’ve paid a lot of money to come here, and I want the time you spend with us to be the happiest of your entire life, barring nothing…except perhaps the day of your wedding or the births of your children…maybe.”

  A soft puff of a laugh escaped her. She almost smiled too, and even relaxed a little when he smiled back. She nodded. “I’d like that too.”

  “All right, then. This is what we’re going to do.” He picked up her application and questionnaire and set them both aside. “I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer them honestly, regardless of how embarrassed you might feel.”

  Her smile faded a little. Her fingers fidgeted. “Okay.”

  “Do you think about dominating, submitting, or both?”

  That was easy. “Submitting.”

  “If the Castle were to match you to your ideal partner, would he be older, younger, or the same age as yourself?”

  She began to relax again. “Older.”

  “May I ask why?”

  She started to shrug.

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “That is not an answer.”

  “Older men know what they’re doing. They’ve had more chances to practice and think about what they like and they know how to do it so that I’ll like it too. I’ve always been attracted to older guys. Not geriatric but, you know…older.”

  “I understand.” Marshall folded his hands, looking at her through slightly narrowed eyes. A calculating look. “I want you to fill in the blank and give me the first word that comes to mind. When you think about being dominated, what gender do you envision your top being?”

  That was easy. “Male.”

  “When you think about your ideal dominant, he is…?”

  Kaylee opened her mouth, but then hesitated.

  “The first word that comes to your mind,” he reiterated.

  She fidgeted. “I had two.”

  He waited expectantly.

  “Authoritative,” she said. She picked at her fingers again. “And kind. Is that stupid?”

  “No, it’s perfectly normal to want that. Dominants are people first. We are kind, considerate, gentle, loving, affectionate, concerned, strong, stern and ofttimes quite determined disciplinarians all wrapped up in very human-seeming packages. Would I be right in surmising by this that you are most interested in discipline administered in a loving, caring domestic-style scenario: husband/wife, boyfriend/girlfriend, Daddy/little girl, parental authority figures over recalcitrant young lady scenarios?”

  That sounded so much better than runaway slave in a dungeon. All remaining tension melted out of her shoulders. “Yes, please.”

  “In your application, you said you would not be adverse to sexual involvement in the midst of or as an aspect of your disciplinary sessions. Is that still true?”

  A slow flush of heat rose through her. Kaylee cleared her throat, willing her cheeks not to redden and trying to force her voice back to normalcy. “Yes.” She rubbed her suddenly damp palms against her thighs.

  “I’m going to give you a few examples and I want you to tell me whether or not you’d be willing to experience them. You need to be completely honest with me now, Ms. Waters, because I intend to match you to someone with the same desires. Every objection will protect you from being matched to someone with that propensity. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” She nodded for added surety.

  “All right, we’re going to start off small. Would you object if your dominant took off your pants and panties?”

  Kaylee wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but her relief at something so benign almost made her laugh. “No, I’m kind of here for that.”

  “Would you object if he stripped you completely naked?”

  A slow flush of heat crept through her. Blushing, she stopped picking at her fingers and clasped her hands tight in her lap again. “No.”

  “In front of others?”

  Oh God. Her face burned. “N-no. Maybe. I…I don’t know.”

  “Would you like to be dominated by more than one man at a time?”

  She clasped her hands even tighter. “Maybe once. You know, just to try it.”

  “Would you object to being tied down?”

  “No. That would be okay”

  “Tied down with your legs wide apart so he could both look and touch any part of you he desired—back, breasts, bottom?” He looked at her pointedly. “Between your legs? Your pussy?”

  Her hands were trembling. Her breathing had quickened. She tried to slow it. “That’s okay, too.”

  “Would you object if he touched your anus?”

  Her breath caught in the back of her throat. She shook her head.

  “Vocalize your answers.”

  “No.” As tight as her throat felt, she was surprised any sound came out at all.

  His expression began to change. “I expect you to address me properly.”

  “Oh. Um…no, sir.”

  “Do you object to having your breasts touched or fondled in session?”

  “No.”

  “Kissed, nibbled, suckled? Ravished?”

  Her legs trembled. She flatted her hands against them, trying unobtrusively to press down and hold them still. Her voice came out like a shiver. “No.”

  “How about pinched or clamped?”

  Kaylee hesitated. “I don’t know. No.”

  Marshall gave her a piercing look. “Those,” he cautioned, “are two very different answers. Are you saying no, you do not object, or are you saying with the right partner you’d be willing to experiment?”

  “I’d be willing to experiment, sir.”

  “Do you object to having your bottom spanked?”

  Again, that sharp deviation out of uncomfortable territory back into what she thought ought to be taken for granted surprised her. “No, sir. Um, please do.”

  “How about the backs of your thighs?”

  Kaylee squirmed in her seat a little. “I…don’t know. H-how hard would he…”

  “As hard as he thinks you require. You are the submissive. Apart from your use of a slow or safeword, if you agree to give your body to your Dom, then he will do whatever he desires to you, however hard or long he desires to do it.”

  “Right, um…” She flushed hot all over again. He was looking at her so intently, Kaylee lost the fight not to squirm. “I-I don’t know.”

  “Would you object to having your pussy spanked?”

  “What?” The word was little more than a breathy squeak. Kaylee tried to laugh, but that came out breathy and a little squeaky too. “I-I-I don’t…”

  “Have you ever been spanked before?”

  Caught.

  Kaylee tried to affect an air of ‘well of course I have, you silly man—why else would I be here?’ But her hands wouldn’t stop trembling and now all the rest of her was too. Both that Look of his and the way he was asking each probing question—a perfect merging of clinical detachment and sexual suggestion—were taking their toll on her. Her clit was pulsing, throbbing. Languid heat was flowing, pooling between her thighs. Her nipples had stiffened. Her breasts felt heavy and full and so sensitive that the minute scrape of her shirt and bra as she breathed scratched like burlap inside of sandpaper.

  She still hadn’t answered and she could tell by his look that Marshall was coming perilously close to suspecting the truth.

  “Yes,” she lied stoutly. “Of course I have.”

  “Ms. Waters, we’re not going to boot you out the door simply because you haven’t any real life OTK experience. That is, however, something I need to know so I can match you to an appropriate partner.”

  “But I do have real life experience. Tons of it, in fact.” She felt both unexpectedly embarrassed for having to defend herself like this and sick. Sh
e hated lying, but she had to say something if she didn’t want to be relegated to the kiddie-end of the spanking pool. The last thing she needed was a partner intent on giving her a sensitive induction into the big wide world of bottom-blistering and kinky sex. She didn’t want a soft hand taking her to task for every imaginary infraction she could come up with. She wanted a man with hands of steel and the will to use them! She wanted to go to sleep tonight lying on her stomach because her southern cheeks were on fire and she couldn’t bear even the whisper-soft touch of the sheet against them. Just one time, she wanted to know what it felt like to be unable to sit down, and if she could, she wanted to stay like that until the end of her vacation. She already knew after she went home again, there was no guarantee she’d ever find herself in that state again. So if she had to lie to get what she wanted, then so be it. She would be the biggest liar Master Marshall had ever met in his life, but by golly, before this was over she was going to be a liar with a red-hot butt!

  “I’ve been spanked many times,” she said with certainty, squeezing her fingers to make her hands stop shaking and lifting her chin to prove an air of confident defiance that she in no way actually felt. “As I put in my application, Mr. Marshall, I very much love being over the knee. I’m never happier. It’s just that I don’t have a partner right now. That’s why I’m here. Apart from that one question, which I misunderstood, every part of my application is exactly who I am and what I’m looking for.”

  “Master,” Marshall said.

  Kaylee blinked twice, her feigned confidence slipping a little. “What?”

  “Master Marshall,” he specified. “Owner, operator, lord of this castle. You said mister.”

  “Oh. Well…I meant Master, then. But I stand by everything else I just said. Um, sir.”

  “Hm.” His eyes narrowed on her a moment, then he stood up. Unclipping the cuffs of his long sleeves, he came out from behind his desk and rounded to her side. “Come with me.”

  Kaylee rose to her feet when he passed her, but she stopped when she noticed he wasn’t just walking. He was rolling up his sleeves, baring his forearms all the way to his elbows. They looked like very strong and capable arms. Toned, veined. Really very threatening, even. Her mouth ran dry. “Do, um…d-do you know where you want to put me?”

  “I have one or two ideas.” Rather than heading for the door though, he headed for the Victorian settee against one wall and sat down, perching close to the edge, perfectly centered between the twin cushions. “The word for slow is yellow. The word for stop is…” He looked at her expectantly.

  She stood rooted to the floor beside her chair. “Onions?”

  “Good girl.” He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor immediately to his right. “Come here.”

  She honestly didn’t know whether she ought to bristle or be concerned. There was something in the way he was looking at her, waiting expectantly, his blue eyes all but daring her. To what, come closer? Retreat? She wasn’t sure what he thought she would do; she knew herself even less.

  Her fingers fidgeted. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. “What are you doing?”

  “All those years of real-life experience behind you and you don’t know what I’m doing?” he challenged.

  “I know what it looks like you’re doing.” The skin across her bottom felt like it was crawling again. Tiny prickles of electric dread tingled under the faint pressure of her hands when she tucked them behind her. She fought hard not to rub. She clutched at her own fingers instead, squeezing hard to keep from worrying them.

  “Young ladies who get sent to the Master’s office never leave it without their very deserving bottoms being warmed. I believe it says that in the brochure.”

  It did. Having read every page of it front to back multiple times, Bay had that line memorized. Hell, she’d even masturbated to it. “I wasn’t trying to get sent here for that.”

  “I know. That’s why I am sitting over here, preparing to go “old school” instead of simply bending you over the edge of my desk.” Marshall snapped his fingers again and pointed to the floor at his feet. “I don’t chase, Ms. Waters. If I have to come and get you, not only am I going to bare your pretty little bottom—”

  Those prickles of dread exploded into full-blown sparks of erotic alarm.

  “—but I’ll do it with an implement in hand.”

  Her eyes flashed back over her shoulder to his cane, still hanging on the wall.

  “Not that. Not for this.” He smiled, but she was not comforted. Particularly not when he said, “I have many other implements to choose from—small paddles, large paddles; wood, leather or rubber; straps of varying lengths, thicknesses and weights. Would you like to see if you can hold position through a 10-count dose of my martinet? Do want to know how quickly Daddy’s dreaded hairbrush can make you sob and wail and promise to be good once again? They’re in the cupboard by the door if you want them. Or you can just come here because, as you’re about to discover, I don’t need anything more than my bare hand to make you one very sorry little girl.”

  Her heart was beating hard enough to shatter her ribs. Her hands couldn’t stop shaking and now her knees were too. Her bottom was clenched in tight. She wasn’t sure if she could walk, not even the ten or so steps that would take her from here to that invisible spot where his finger demanded she go. “Sorry for what?” The words trembled between them, no louder than a whisper.

  “Pick a reason, any reason, or no reason at all. Because I can. Because you want me too. Because it’s what you came here for and what you so badly need.” He didn’t point to the floor again, but raised his hand and beckoned her closer. “Come here, Ms. Waters. You’ve come to the right place—you’ve come to me—and now you’re going to be spanked for it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Master Marshall was going to spank her.

  Kaylee wanted to laugh, but her throat wouldn’t let her. She tried to think of something bratty to say—there was one universal truth in all the spanking videos that Kaylee had ever seen, and that was that girls about to be put across the knee always said something bratty—but her mind was a complete blank. There was challenge glittering in Marshall’s eyes, it held her conflicted by the urges both to retreat and yet also to go to him. If she went, he was going to spank her, for crying out loud. But if she didn’t go to him—he wouldn’t chase, he’d said—then how was she ever to experience that one driving fantasy that had haunted her for as far back as she could remember?

  Kaylee stared at his hands, spellbound by the size of them, their strength, their capability, and the next thing she knew, her foot had completely circumvented her hesitant brain and taken that first small step forward.

  The rest followed like an avalanche, leaving her helpless to do anything but go where his will pulled her. She ended up standing at his right, staring down at what looked to be a very sturdy lap while he reached to take hold of her pants, unhooking the top button of her jeans and pulling the zipper down its metal teeth. He stripped her of what dubious protection her clothing offered, tugging it all the way down her legs to knees, leaving it to sag into a puddle of discarded denim around her ankles.

  His blue eyes locked with hers, and her whole body sang, prickling and tingling in all the strangest places, while dreaded anticipation and eagerness exploded together when his fingers hooked the elastic of her underwear. Without preamble, he pulled those down as well and there she suddenly was, completely naked from navel to shins. All he had to do was look at her or—oh God, oh God—touch, but he didn’t. His steady gaze remained tangled with hers and did not abandon her.

  His deep breaths were slow and steady; hers were much faster. His hands, when he took hold of her wrist and then her upper arm, felt warm against her skin and were strong and unyielding; hers shook, and shook badly. She tried to brace herself against his thigh, but he steadied her, guiding her down into the proper position across his lap.

  He adjusted her almost immediately, heaving her until her hips w
ere centered almost solely over his left thigh. A subtle shift of his knees and push of his hand against her far thigh, and the next thing she knew her right leg was imprisoned in the vise of his, leaving her left to dangle free completely off his lap. Her knee almost touched the floor, but couldn’t quite. Every secret, intimate, feminine aspect of her was now openly exposed to both his eyes and his touch.

  This time, he looked.

  “Beautiful,” he said, and Kaylee nearly jumped out of her skin when his hand cupped boldly between her legs. He held her, waiting, his fingers burning into her flesh. “Shaven smooth. I like that.”

  If he expected her to cry the safeword, Kaylee surprised them both, though her eyes were as wide as saucers and her knuckles were bone white where she gripped the sofa cushion. She bit back her initial gasp—shock and awe and long-time fantasy finally come to life—and simply felt. The heat sinking from him into her, the wandering caress of his fingers as he stroked her, his long fingers parting the folds of her labia, finding her clit, finding her so thoroughly aroused and wasting no time even for her to process that sensation before he dipped in to test that wetness.

  She snapped her hand back, but grabbed his shin instead of his arm as he began to spread that moisture from front to back, pussy to anus, the tip of one finger circling that tense little entrance but not penetrating. Kaylee fisted both hands and said nothing. It was all she could do just to remember to breathe, especially when his stroking caress drifted back down again, dipping into slick heat, finding her clit and circling all around until that sensitive nub began to swell and throb and her entire body quivered in response.

  It was a fight to hold still. It was a fight she lost when he drew back his hand and swatted, catching her pussy fully and filling the whole of his office with the sharp, wet sound of impact and her shrill gasp for air.