by Maren Smith
“Now, let’s go over this one more time.” Master Marshall tapped at the stone directly in front of her nose. “You are to face this spot and you are to keep your mouth shut until I tell you otherwise. If I have to correct you again, the consequence will be more than just a mouthful of soap.”
He left her like that, arms bound up behind her and balanced precariously on a scattered bed of rice. It already felt like she was kneeling on jagged bits of gravel and the soap was just plain awful. Soon, she was fighting back tears and crying through her nose, which made each hitching gasp sound like sniveling.
Ignoring her, Master Marshall walked back to the door, ordered the two princesses to come inside, and then headed for his desk without waiting to see if they obeyed. As the girls filed quietly over the threshold, one must have glanced over at Kaylee. She giggled.
Two things happened then: humiliated, Kaylee flinched so far into the corner than her head bumped the cold stone walls; and, halfway to his desk, Master Marshall snapped back around and headed straight for them.
The giggles ceased every bit as abruptly; and Kaylee couldn’t help it, she stole a quick peek at them over her shoulder. She only thought she’d seen him angry before, but nothing compared with how he looked now, anger dark as thunderclouds on his face, silently staring down each princess in turn.
“She did it,” one whispered, pointing to her companion.
He didn’t care. “Take off your clothes. Both of you.”
When he started to move, Kaylee quickly faced the corner again. Her every nerve strained to listen as the whisper-soft sound of fancy gowns hastily being divested mixed with his stalking footsteps. The cupboard opened again. Leather restraints rustled, buckles clinked, paper unwrapped, and then the steady tromp of his shoes carried him back across the rug to the two women who now stood trying covering themselves with their hands. A woman groaned in dread, and the need to see for herself exactly what he was doing itched at Kaylee unbearably.
“But I didn’t laugh!” one protested, her voice high and whining.
“Open,” he snapped, every bit as intractable as he’d been with her but sounding much colder.
If Kaylee weren’t so miserable, she might have smiled at the stereo squeaks of distaste, muffled behind two brand new bars of Ivory soap.
“Turn and face my desk,” was the next command, followed by, “Spread your legs. Bend over and grab your ankles.”
Another shrill squeak of protest erupted into a series of increasingly louder cries, each growing more desperate until they were abruptly silenced by a single, open-handed clap.
“Hold your position,” Master Marshall said.
The second princess began whimpering, a sound that seemed to be equal mixtures humiliation and discomfort, rather than fear.
Kaylee so badly wanted to turn around and look, but just as desperately, she wanted not to get caught peeking again. Already the rice under her knees had gone from boulders to spikes. It was all she could do to hold her pose without wobbling. She didn’t know how much longer she was going to have to bear this punishment; the last thing she wanted to do was make it worse.
“If you feel like laughing now, by all means, indulge yourselves.” Finished with what he was doing, Master Marshall walked back to his desk. A few seconds later, Kaylee heard the sound of file folders being shuffled and opened, and pages being read through. There was no phone in the office nor did she hear him speak, but he must have signaled somehow because, within minutes, the door to his office opened and a dowdy maid poked her head into the room. Startled, Kaylee glanced at her once and then quickly snapped back to the corner.
“Sir?” the maid asked.
“Fetch Master Dominick for me, please.”
“Yes, sir.” As quickly as she had appeared, the maid ducked out and was gone again. For the longest time, silence reigned within the Master’s office.
The soapy taste was growing worse by the second. Kaylee could actually feel her saliva thickening with the slime forming on her tongue. It felt like forever (though in the back of her mind she knew it probably closer to five or six minutes) before a heavy knock rattled the office door.
“Enter,” Master Marshall called, and then to one of the princesses admonished, “I did not say you could rise. Get back in position. The two of you have caused enough trouble, now you’ll pay the price. And I don’t think it’s going to be to either of your liking.”
“Is it going to be to my liking?” Master Dominick asked, amused.
Being parallel to the door gave Kaylee a prime view of the man who entered. It was the Gaoler, the one who had scared her half to pieces with the threat of his bullwhip. Oh God, he was wearing it, coiled like a snake at his hip, and even without the gloom of the dungeon to darken him, dressed like this in all black leather, he was one scary individual. Especially when he turned to close the door behind him and his gaze lit on her. Kaylee snapped her eyes back to the corner, but not before she saw the spark of recognition in his eyes.
At his desk, Master Marshall heaved another deep sigh.
“Damn, it’s good being lord of the castle,” Master Dominick chuckled. “Certainly, the view is better up here than it is in the dungeon.”
“It can be,” Marshall agreed, without enthusiasm. “At the moment, I am too annoyed to enjoy it.”
“Please, oh please, tell me I am here to take some of this lovely annoyance off your hands.” The dungeon master moved toward the desk and out of her frame of sight. “Two little pink mouths stuffed with soap…two lily-white bottoms primed with ginger root and elevated for use…lovely, fresh canvases ready for painting.” He paused and one of the princesses mewed. “My, my….What a naughty girl you are. Your punishment has made you wet.”
“Her name is Angel,” Master Marshall supplied.
Angel’s mewling whimper was joined by her friend’s breathy gasp.
“And this one?” the Gaoler asked as the girls moaned in unison.
“Ms. Deville.”
“Also wet.” Master Dominick tasked. “Something should be done about that.”
“Do you think you can be bothered?” Master Marshall asked. “The girls requested no Dom be assigned to them. Against my better judgment I allowed it and that, apparently, was enough to reduce me in their minds from Master of the Castle to trained monkey. In the last three days, they have been sent to my office no less than five times. I’ll jump through their hoops no longer.”
“Let’s see how well they enjoy jumping through mine,” Master Dominick chuckled. “How long do I have them?”
“Until they’ve learned to behave. Failing that, until their bus departs on Monday. And I would consider it a personal favor if you would escort them to their assignments just as they are—no clothes, soap and ginger roots firmly in place. I want this to be a lesson they never forget.”
“It is, as always, my pleasure to be of service, Master Marshall.” Another dark rumble of laughter. “What about the little one in the corner? Is she mine as well?”
Kaylee snapped all the way around, her eyes huge, and planted her nose so firmly into the corner that she lost her balance and fell against the walls. Trying to regain her position was sheer agony on the rice.
If Master Marshall answered verbally, then she missed it. She held herself tense and still, barely breathing until Master Dominick tsked again. “Pity. Ah well, you’ve given me two new playthings. They’ll just have to keep me entertained all on their own, won’t you, girls? Stand up. Clasp your hands behind your backs and keep them there.”
A soft squeak was the only sound they made, and an instant later, all three appeared on the periphery of Kaylee’s sight. Master Dominick opened the door, dragging them along behind him. One wore her short hair in stubby little ponytails, the other had her longer hair twisted back in a single auburn braid; the whip-toting Gaoler had turned both into the leashes by which he led them out of the office and away.
The door clicked softly shut behind them, leaving the room suddenly
very quiet. Her senses strained for the slightest hint of movement behind her, but all she could hear was her own soapy, snotty breathing.
The door opened again, and the same maid as before poked her head inside. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m done for the afternoon. Inform Master Sam that he is Master of the Castle for the rest of the day and redirect all further misbehaving recalcitrants into his, shall we say, tender, loving care.”
“Yes, sir.” She ducked back out and the door closed. Now they truly were alone. No more interruptions; no more distractions. Kaylee shivered.
It was almost a full minute before she heard the slight creak of his chair as he swiveled and stood. Unhurried, he crossed to her, squatting down just behind her, not touching though she could feel the heat of him at her back. She thought she felt a soft tug at her hair, as if he were toying with a lock, twining it around his finger perhaps.
“You may nod or shake your head in answer my questions, but you may not speak and you may not remove the soap from your mouth. Do you understand?”
Kaylee nodded. She sniffled softly, unsure how much longer she’d be able to stand the taste.
“You’re breathing all right now, I see.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t wait for her to answer. He reached around her to lay his open hand on her chest, measuring for himself the steadiness of her heartbeat. “Are you feeling better?”
She nodded.
“All right, then.” His hand stroked up over her shoulder, patting once before descending down her spine and falling away. “Stand up. Let’s go wash out your mouth.”
Relief flooded her. She had to catch herself from making a sound. Mumbling thank you around the soap would probably get her another minute or two of drooling bubbles, and she was embarrassed enough as it was at her inability to prevent him from seeing the mess she’d made all down the front of her.
His hand hooked under her arms, holding her steady while she struggled to rise. Her knees screamed the entire way. Rocking back on the seemingly boulder-sized rice was nothing short of sheer agony and all her efforts at being quiet were shattered by pain-filled gasps. The heat at her back became the very real warmth of his chest as he pulled her against him. It was a supporting hold, helping her stay upright while her legs fought the pain to straighten and stand. It felt so very possessive too, but maybe that was only because she wanted it to be that way.
His hot breath caressed her ear. “The next time I tell you to face the corner, are you going to do it?”
Kaylee nodded, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t quite believe you. Especially since you weren’t able to obey even while kneeling on the rice, or did you think I somehow failed to notice all the times you kept peeking back at me?”
Bowing her head, Kaylee stood with tears rolling down her face, not knowing how to answer that with the only two options he’d allowed her.
Icy blue eyes assessing her, Marshall fished into his jacket pocket before reaching over her shoulder. It took her a moment to realize it was her collar, the one she had just removed a few hours ago, dangling from his fingertips. “I am going to give you the choice of putting this on, Ms. Waters, without fear of any recrimination if you’d rather not. But if you choose to wear it, I am not going to be lenient with you and you are not going to have a good afternoon.”
The most gut-churning longing unraveled deep inside her. She stared until the collar began to blur and twin tears slipped from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She nodded.
“Do you remember the rules from yesterday?”
Again, she nodded.
He put the collar around her neck, fixing it firmly into place, before taking her by the ear—a hold that brought her right up onto her toes in an effort to alleviate the pinch. He dragged her into the adjoining bathroom.
Larger than any office bathroom needed to be, it held not only the prerequisite toilet and sink, but a full shower big enough to occupy two or even three people at once and with restraint rings affixed to the back wall, just like in his private apartment.
Master Marshall took her straight to the sink. He let go of her ear to catch firm hold of her hair and bent her over, putting her face directly above the bowl before taking the bar of soap.
“Open,” he said, and she was only too happy to comply. Soapy strands of drool poured from her slack mouth.
“Ugh,” she panted, trying hard to be quiet and yet unable to bite that back. Her whole body shuddered with the need to spit.
“Tell me what happened.” Dropping the soap into the garbage, he twisted the cold water on. “Were you working with Mr. Grimsley, Cook or were you taken to the Rainbow Room?”
Beginning to tremble now that she could see an end to the soap ordeal, Kaylee watched him fill a small disposable cup with cool water. “Rainbow Room,” she said, trying to move her tongue as little as possible so she wouldn’t have to taste any part of her mouth.
“I see you have two demerits pinned to your corset.” He brought the cup to her lips and held it for her. “Sip and swish, then spit.”
She did, half a dozen times. The soapy flavor did not magically disappear out of her mouth, but though she could still taste bits of soap clinging to her teeth, at least she wasn’t breathing bubbles any more.
“What happened in the Rainbow Room?”
She had no idea how to explain. Alan hadn’t done anything wrong. She had been there to get her demerits worked off; he had approached her for exactly that. He hadn’t been pushy. She could have said no, but she hadn’t. She’d said yes, and then she’d freaked out.
Head bowed, feeling truly foolish, Kaylee avoided his eyes in the vanity mirror. “It…it wasn’t anything, really.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he said, frowning. “You did not come running all the way up here, wild-eyed and panicked, over nothing. I asked you a question and I expect an honest answer.”
She gazed at the bubbles in the bottom of the sink until, with another sigh, he caught her chin and forced her eyes to him.
“What,” he demanded, “happened?”
“Nothing!” She tried to pull out of his grip and managed to escape, but only because he allowed it.
Annoyance tightening his features, Master Marshall bent to fetch the bar of soap back out of the trash can. He dropped it in the sink and then opened the vanity and pulled out a brand new toothbrush.
“I’m not lying!” she cried as he, without a word, popped it out of its plastic wrapping. “It was nothing! Just a stupid little thing!” She tried to back up, but he caught a fistful of her hair and pulled her bodily right back up to the sink.
“Move from this spot again,” he warned, “and I will paddle you.”
“But I was just being stupid!” And then she really did start to cry because instead of stopping, he picked up the soap, turned the water on and wet both the bar and toothbrush under the stream.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered, working a lather into the bristles.
Kaylee bounced in place, truly not wanting to obey. Already the taste dominated every cringing bud on her tongue. There was no part of her mouth that didn’t already taste sudsy and awful.
She cried harder, her shoulders jerking in spasms, but when he caught her jaw, she also opened for him. He scrubbed the entire interior of her mouth—her tongue, her palate, her teeth and gums, and the insides of both cheeks. He was pitiless and all Kaylee could do was stand there, alternating between gagging and sobbing.
“Spit,” he told her and, miserable, she did. Wetting the toothbrush again, he picked up the soap to lather it a second time. Then he confronted her, the brush held ready in his hand, ready for round two if she backed him into that corner. “Did someone approach you?”
“Yes,” Kaylee whimpered. “Please may I spit?”
His frown deepened and his eyes sparked. “Yes, what?”
She bounced again, her whole body shuddered under the effects of the chemical warfare waging across her tast
e buds. “Yes, sir. Please…please may I spit?”
Laying the toothbrush on the edge of the sink, he filled the disposable cup with fresh water and fed it to her in gulping sips. She swished and spat frantically, over and over until he took the cup away.
She gasped and sniffled, with soap and saliva dripping down her chin and her hands bound, leaving her no way to wipe it off. The mirror was as heartless as he was; Kaylee was not a pretty crier. Her eyes were red, her nose was running, and her face was flushed an uncomely shade of pink. She bowed her head so she wouldn’t have to look at herself.
“Who approached you, pet?” Master Marshall pressed, his tone firm but not unkind.
Kaylee sniffed hard, needing to blow her nose. “He said his name was Alan. Sir, m-may I p-please have a tissue?”
He swiped two tissues from the box on the shelf above the toilet. Cupping her chin, he made her look at him while he wiped the tears from her cheeks and then held the tissues to her nose. “Blow.”
Embarrassment burned through her. She blew.
He wiped her nose, tossed the used wad into the garbage and tugged two more from the box. “Blow,” he said again, holding them up to her.
At least, she could breathe now without sniveling.
“Did he want to help you work off your demerits?” Master Marshall asked, gently steering the conversation as he threw those tissues into the garbage as well.
Kaylee nodded.
“I want to hear you say the words out loud.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“What did he want?”
A full shudder ran the length of her body. Her breath hitched and caught in the back of her throat.
His gaze sharpened on her, missing nothing. “What did he ask you to do?”
“H-he was very nice,” she hedged.
“That doesn’t answer my question. Avoiding the truth is the same as lying. Do I need to soap your mouth again?”
If she could have got her hands free, she’d have clapped them over her tightly pressed lips. Her eyes teared and she shook her head.
