Kaylee's Keeper

by Maren Smith

  “Are you all right?”

  Kaylee nodded, staring at her arm. The spur no longer rested against her skin, but she imagined she could still feel it, winding its way up her arm.

  “You look uneasy,” Alan noted. “Don’t be afraid, Beth. You’re in a room full of people, in full view of the security cameras. No one, least of all me, wants to hurt you or force you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. You have your safeword. You can use it at any time, and that puts you in complete control of this scene.”

  “I know.” Her voice shook. Across the room, the violet wand snapped out another jolt and the woman under its biting caress shrieked, then groaned, both laughing and cursing in a way that sounded as if she were growling.

  “Beth,” Alan said, using tone alone to reclaim her attention. “Do you want to come with me over to that table and let me divest you of one of these demerits, or would you like me to find someone else?”

  “No,” Kaylee made herself say, even as she held up one finger to stay him. “I’ll come. J-just one minute, though, okay? I…I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  His dark eyes watched her carefully, but he graciously nodded. “All right. Sure. Take your time.”

  She had no problem pulling her hand out of his. He made no attempt to hold onto her when she turned and, wobbling a little on those incredibly-high high heels, left the Rainbow Room. He probably knew, even before she did, that she wouldn’t be back. He hadn’t done one thing wrong, but Kaylee couldn’t stop herself. All she felt was the sick sense of fear bouncing wildly inside herself. She couldn’t make it stop and she didn’t know what to do, though her feet seemed to.

  They carried her unerringly down the hall to the ballroom, past the kitchen to the front room, up the curling staircase to the second floor and across the balcony hallway. She walked right passed two giggling ‘princesses’ seated on the hard bench just outside Master Marshall’s closed office door and barely even saw them.

  “Hey!” one cried, when Kaylee reached for the door handle. “We were here first!”

  “Yeah, no cutting in line!” the other chimed in, but Kaylee didn’t hear that either. She stumbled for the first time, nearly going all the way down to her knees when her ankle tried to twist out from under her. She caught herself against the door, shoving it open much harder than she’d meant to, and accidentally slammed it back into the wall. The colliding crash made for a deafening entrance. It stopped everything. Both the protests of the princesses in the hall and the action taking place at the desk.

  Master Marshall snapped around, his cane still in his hand, his bright eyes flashed angrily until he saw her. The young woman being caned also started. She rose halfway off his desk, arms still stretching out to grasp the opposite edge, her legs still splayed with tiptoes barely able to touch the floor. Her gown had been carefully folded back over the small of her back, completely exposing her from hips to heels. Twin bright red lines marred the otherwise pale surface of her round buttocks. God only knew where her panties were. Kaylee wobbled in the doorway, brief mental flashes of her own panties tucked into Master Marshall’s coat pocket rocketing through her head, but then her eyes were locked in his and all she could think about was how she was sucking repeatedly for air and yet still suffocating.

  The young woman tried to rise, but Master Marshall promptly pressed his cane across her shoulders, applying just enough pressure to remind her to keep her belly flat upon the desk, and then he was coming straight for Kaylee.

  She staggered in the doorway, plucking both at her throat and at the front of her corset, struggling not to either panic or fall apart. He caught her arm as soon as he was close enough, and without a word, pulled her inside and shut the door. He marched her into the far corner, pressing her nose right up against the cool stone wall. Though initially angry, she could feel nothing but calm reassurance in him now. His breath caressed the side of her neck; his words caressed her ear, becoming a balm against the rising panic.

  “Slow your breathing. In,” he commanded. “Good girl. Slow and deep. Hold it: one…two…three…now let it out. You’re okay, pet. You’re being a very good girl and it’s going to be okay. Again: breathe in.”

  Kaylee lost herself in his voice, his comforting touch and the heat of his chest against her back. One slow breath at a time, the panic inside her diminished, leaving behind a rolling wave of overwhelming shame. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and tried to look at him.

  “Did I tell you you could come out of your corner?” His hand cupped the top of her head, positioning her until the wall and the stones were all that she could see. “You stay right here. I’ll be with you in a moment. Until then, you will breathe slow and deep and you will not move from this spot, nose right here.” He tapped the join of the two walls. “Don’t say one word until I give you permission, is that clear?”

  “Yes,” she whispered miserably, the shame she felt bringing her right to the brink of tears.

  One hand gripping her shoulder, Master Marshall abruptly stepped back. A half second later, the cane she hadn’t realized he was still carrying snapped a stinging line of first pain and then the most unbelievable fire all across the lower swells of both buttocks.

  Arching in shock, Kaylee slapped her hands flat upon the wall. She danced and bounced with the effort it took not to break position or grab her ass. The fire flared hotter and hotter, growing teeth and chewing in under her too-short skirt.

  “I said, is that clear?” he repeated, dangerously soft.

  “Yes, sir!” she gasped. “Oh ow! Yes! Yes, sir!”

  His hand on her shoulder was strong and unwavering. His words were an amalgamation of promise and threat, and yet they calmed her, melting her into the pain that was already dwindling into a lower throbbing sensation.

  “Hold still.” When he bent, she obeyed and an instantly later, he had loosed the ties on her heels. Her nose didn’t once leave the corner, not even when he lifted each foot in turn and pulled her high heels off.

  It was probably her imagination, but just before he walked away, she thought she felt him caress her hair. Barefoot on the cool floor stones, with a single line of fire pulsing hot across her bottom, she stayed exactly as he told her while he went back to the woman on his desk.

  “Did I say you could rise?” His voice was cool with an authority that seemed to echo in every step that carried him across the rug. There was a soft whump as the young lady dropped back into position, but that latent obedience did not save her.

  “Does she have to be here while—”

  The length of Marshall’s cane sliced through the air with a sound that made every muscle inside of Kaylee flinch. The woman over his desk must have done the same. She also sucked a hard breath—a soft ‘hup’ sound—followed by a swiftly recited, “Three, sir! I will not sic security on a Master just to avoid a spanking, I swear—oh my God, that really hurts!”

  “Three more,” he told her implacably, and the punishment Kaylee had interrupted when she first came bursting into the room continued on as if she never had.

  The cane rent the air and Kaylee jumped at the fleshy impact. Heat and hurt both pulsed through her single welt while the woman writhed on Master Marshall’s desk, fighting to stay in proper position. One knee bumped up hard against the back of the desk. It took a minute, but then her voice groaned out, “Four, sir! Oh my God, oh my God—I will not sic security on a Master just to avoid a spanking!”

  “Your little prank isn’t quite so funny now, is it?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Your behavior was reprehensible and your Master must agree, otherwise I don’t believe he would have sent you to me, would he?”

  “N-no, sir.” Her voice broke, and the cane slashed down again.

  It sounded fearsome. It must have felt the same way too, because as the woman counted out the stroke and began to recite her litany, she also began to cry.

  Kaylee understood how she felt. Tears welled up hot behind her eyes. As they spilled past her
lashes, she began to have trouble breathing again but not for the same reason as before. She tried to cry as quietly as she knew how, opening her mouth to keep from sniffling and closing her eyes when the next stroke fell. They both jumped, and she wished she could close her ears as the woman shouted and bawled.

  “I’m sorry, sir!” she wept once she’d finished her recitation. “I’m really sorry! I was trying to be funny; I didn’t mean it!”

  “Stand.”

  Kaylee listened as the crying woman shuffled upright. The silence that fell after that itched and itched at her until, unable to control the need, she finally turned her head to look back at them over her shoulder.

  Master Marshall had laid his cane upon the desk and now stood with the sobbing woman in his arms. Her hands were tucked behind her, framing her latticed backside but not rubbing. He was stroking her hair and her back, offering comfort now that chastisement was done, but those piercing blue eyes of his were fixed on Kaylee.

  He said nothing; simply arched an eyebrow and Kaylee quickly put her nose back in the corner.

  Sniffling and hiccupping, the misbehaving prankster eventually pulled herself together and Master Marshall released her.

  Plucking a handful of tissues from the box on his desk, he held them out to her along with a folded note. “Take this to your Master. I’m giving him permission to correct you on the public stage during the dinner hour, if that’s what he chooses to do. And this…this is for you to decide.”

  The itch tickled at the back of her neck again. Helpless to resist, Kaylee snuck a quick peek back over her shoulder again. It was a second piece of paper, folded in half and held up between two fingers for the chastened woman to see.

  She was no longer holding her bottom. Instead, hands clasping and unclasping nervously, she looked at the paper in his hand without taking it. “What is it?”

  “Permission for him to use a gag. There is no question—in either of our minds, I’ll bet—as to whether or not you deserve it.” His voice was kind, but his expression stern. “You can make other arrangements, I suppose. But no matter what you agree to, not being able to vocalize your safeword puts you at a higher risk for miscommunication. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Looking very small, the woman nodded.

  “If you say no, I’ll feed this into the shredder and no more will be said on the matter. If you say yes, then you’ll also have to accept the risk that your Master could take your punishment in directions you aren’t prepared for.”

  Already, the woman was shaking her head. And for a moment, Kaylee thought she was refusing the permission slip until she softly added, “My Master would never hurt me.” She kind of laughed, a rueful, self-depreciating sound. “Actually, he’s probably going to hurt me a great deal tonight, but not for real, you know. Just until he knows how sorry I am and…and I know how disappointed he is.” She made a slight face. “He’s going to make me write lines. I just know it. I’d almost rather take three or even four times what you just gave me than to have to write stupid lines.”

  A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his. “Sounds like an effective punishment.”

  “It makes my hands cramp.” Her grimace became even more pronounced. After a moment, she took the note from his fingers and added it to the one she already held.

  “Good girl,” he said approvingly, but Kaylee couldn’t help but notice how the other woman looked as if she didn’t feel like much of a good girl. Her bottom lip began to tremble and the tears fell all over again.

  “I’ve been talking with Master Davis online for almost nine months now,” she confessed. “We Skype almost every day. This is only the second time we’ve been able to get together and we wanted to come here because we thought it would be so wonderful—and it has been, the place is great,” she hastened to assure him, then looked down at the notes she held. “Last night, he…he told me he loved me for the very first time.” When she looked back up at Master Marshall, her lower lip was trembling even harder, though it was obvious to Kaylee that she was biting the inside of her cheek in an effort to stop it. “I’ve really screwed up, haven’t I?”

  Reaching for her, Master Marshall took her chin between his fingers, turning her face slightly away before he leaned down and whispered in her ear. Kaylee couldn’t hear what was being said, but she watched as the tension visibly melted out of the other woman. Eventually, she knuckled away her tears and even smiled, a watery, trembling thing.

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  He stroked her hair once, rubbing her back as he walked with her to the door and then she was gone.

  Ignoring the two women waiting in the hall, Master Marshall closed the door. After a moment, he turned and looked at Kaylee. Though it was too late to pretend she’d had her nose in the corner all this time, she tried anyway and her stomach gave a sick little lurch when he sighed.

  “What sympathy you won when you first came bursting into my office in a full-blown panic attack is fast giving way to annoyance. I’m beginning to think what you may need more than comfort is a long overdue lesson in obedience.”

  His footsteps retreated across the stone floor, whispering onto carpet and then the cupboard across the room opened. She heard the clink of metal clasps, the rattle of leather and chain harnesses, and the scrape of a heavy tin can sliding over wood.

  “Step back,” Master Marshall ordered as he came back to her.

  It was probably too late for it to make a difference, but Kaylee did as she was told. She took two small steps back and watched as he pried the lid off the tin can and sprinkled a handful of rice on the floor around the corner.

  Capping the can again, he pointed at the localized mess. “Kneel.”

  “On top of the rice?” she asked, looking down at it. What was the point of that?

  “Are you sure you want me to have to tell you twice?” he countered, disapproval running hand-in-hand with the steely authority of his tone.

  Rubbing her palms against her thighs, Kaylee knelt on the rice and faced into the corner again. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Not yet, you’re not.” It felt like a ten-pound hammer dropping all the way into the pit of her stomach when he leaned over her shoulder and said, “But don’t worry. Before I’m through, little girl, I promise, you will be.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Hold up your arms.”

  Trembling, Kaylee did as she was told. In nervous fascination, she watched as he slid a black leather sleeve over each arm in turn. Both sleeves were lined with buckles and closed at the end, leaving her hands fully enclosed in fingerless pockets. “Wh-what…?”

  “Were you given permission to speak?”

  His hands were never anything but calm, firm but not rough as he tightened down the buckles, securing the sleeves in place. His voice, however, was cool and detached. He was angry with her—her gut clenched in so hard it almost hurt—but really, how could she blame him? She had burst into his office as if she had the right, disrupting his scene with one client and cutting in front of two others. As if she was something special. As if she was his responsibility. As if she was just plain his.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, burning tears building in her eyes. “I really am. Please don’t be angry with me.”

  His hands paused in the midst of tightening down the last buckle and he straightened slowly, then sighed again. It sounded heavy. It sounded even more disappointed than before. He left her there, returning the can of rice to the cupboard across the room.

  Abandoned, knowing he was probably going to wash his hands of her entirely after this, Kaylee put her nose back into the corner. She leaned awkwardly, her balance precarious with her arms bound like this. Even that minor shift in weight made the granules of rice under her knees dig in like small boulders. She winced, but she stayed as she was and prayed this small show of obedience might somehow be enough to win her at least the chance to explain.

  Could she explain? She didn’t know, only that she so badly wante
d the opportunity to, and maybe her belated obedience worked because a moment later, Master Marshall was back at her side again.

  “I did not tell you to put yourself back in the corner. I told you to kneel and to be quiet.”

  Kaylee tipped awkward back onto her heels, the rice under her knees making her wince all over again. A soft crinkle of unwrapping paper almost made her look up, but she caught herself in time—uncertain whether that might further be breaking the rules—but he solved both the issue and her curiosity when he brought the unused bar of soap down to her level. Ivory, maybe. It was white.

  Her mouth watered. Her stomach churned.

  “Open,” he said, intractable.

  Oh God…

  Cringing, Kaylee allowed her lips to part.

  Notes of real annoyance hung heavy on his words when he repeated, “Open. Your. Mouth.”

  She opened her mouth as wide as it would go. Her reward was the chemical taste of that bar of soap as it was seated firmly between her jaws. She didn’t dare pull back, grimace or struggle, but all of those things were instinctive and none of them brought her reprieve.

  “Bite,” Marshall said, holding the bar long enough for her to sink her teeth into it. Tears stung her eyes. She salivated, tasting nothing but soap as it spread back across her tongue, but she kept her jaw tight and held onto the bar.

  It was terrible. She’d once fantasized about something kind of like this: herself, dressed like a high-school cheerleader, getting her mouth washed out for swearing right before some big, strong Daddy figure turned her across his knee, lifted the back of her little skirt, dropped her panties to her knees and spanked her bottom until she (in fantasy, at least) was kicking, sobbing and pleading for him to stop and (in real life) shuddering on the waves of finger-induced orgasm. This was nothing like that. She was drooling and she didn’t even care—anything was preferable to swallowing the awful taste creeping into every corner of her mouth.

  Behind her, Master Marshall finished securing her hands, folding the sleeves up behind her back until each hand could have cupped the opposite elbow and her breasts were arching out as if in offering to the unappreciative wall.