by Maren Smith
“Answer the—”
“He wanted to touch me—m-massage me—with a…a spur sort of thing.”
He studied her, his expression shifting toward something vaguely puzzled. “Is that it?”
Kaylee shuddered all over again. It was almost a full minute before she shook her head.
His head tipped, confusion turning wary. “What else did he want?”
She trembled. She tried to back away, but he hooked two fingers into the soft valley between her breasts, gripping her corset and pulling her back up to the sink.
“What else did he want, Kaylee?” This time he used the Tone, the one that washed over her like a soothing balm, strong and sure. The one that promised to protect and yet which also promised he would brook no further defiance, so stop pushing.
She was going to cry again. She fought the need back, whispering, “He w-wanted to shock m-me with the Hitachi w-wand.”
Master Marshall studied her, his face unreadable apart from a single slight buckling of his eyebrows. “Do you remember exactly what he said?”
Shaking and shaking, Kaylee tried to think.
“Shh, it’s okay.” He stroked her with his hands. She could feel one burning through her corset into her hip, and the other, caressing in and out between her breasts. “It’s all right. You’re safe in my house and you’re safe with me, I promise. If you don’t remember everything, then tell me what you do remember.”
“He said h-he wanted me to…to take off my clothes and lie down while he used the Hitachi wand and the spur.”
“Did he say specifically ‘Hitachi’ wand?”
Kaylee had to think before she nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Kaylee, honey, was the violet wand in use while you were there?”
Kaylee shuddered all over and so hard that it made her knees wobble and dip. She tried to shy from him, but his arm came around her waist, both holding and supporting her.
“Slow your breathing, baby. In…there’s a good girl…now out. In.” He breathed with her, holding her both with his arms and his eyes. “Out. Just like that. Come here.”
She turned from the mirror, thinking he meant to hug her, but he only took hold of her bound arms and led her from the bathroom.
“There are many different kinds of wands.” He walked her back to the open cupboard. Closing the upper doors, he pulled out one of the lower drawers. “Music conductors use one kind of wand; magicians, another. Even vacuum cleaners have extensions called wands, and all of these have very different functions. Violet wands are one type used in BDSM play, and in this same vein, the Hitachi wand is another type—one that you are, in fact, quite familiar with.”
He pulled one out, unraveling the cord and showing it to her. It looked almost exactly like the vibrator he had used on her last night, strapping it around her hips so the round ball end was positioned right against her clit, preventing her escape. Remembering how he had forced her to grind and ride on it while he’d thrust into her from behind, Kaylee turned a slow, hot shade of red. When he held it up for her to see, there, in tiny letters by the on/off button, were the words: Hitachi Magic Wand.
“It—” A slow, uncomfortable clenching sensation began to wind through her gut. “—it doesn’t shock?”
“No.” He replaced the device back in the drawer and pushed it shut, opening instead the next drawer up. “And this evil looking implement is called a Wartenberg wheel. Is this what Master Alan wanted to massage you with?”
Kaylee looked at the metal device he withdrew: a small pinwheel-like spoke attached to a palm-sized handle. “His was a little different,” she admitted. “But yes, that’s very close to the one he had.”
“It looks much worse than it is.” He reached for her, plucking at the lacings of her corset to free her breasts. When he cupped one and raised the device, she flinched, but he only circled her nipple, letting her feel the spokes. The first pass was very light. Her breasts tingled with unexpected arousal, her nipples budding into eager peaks, which Marshall then cut across with the Wartenberg wheel, applying increasing pressure until it felt as if he were sticking pins in her soft flesh.
She gasped and tried to shrug out of his grip, but he did not release her. He bent instead, engulfing the first taut nipple in the welcoming heat of his mouth. He teased her, first with his lips and tongue, then suckled fiercely—tugging and pulling so deeply that she could feel the effects all the way down in the molten fire of her belly. It ended with his teeth, scraping, nibbling, releasing.
Breathless, Kaylee trembled when he let her go. Replacing the Wartenberg wheel back in its drawer, he closed the cupboard and propped himself against it, arms folded across his chest. He looked at her.
“Tell me,” he said, not unkindly. “What did Master Alan say when you told him you were afraid?”
Kaylee looked first at his folded arms and then at the floor. She felt very stupid. “I…I didn’t.”
“What did he say when you said your safeword?”
She shook her head.
“That’s not an answer, pet. I want to hear you say the words.”
“I didn’t say my safeword.” The admission tasted almost as bad as the soap still clinging to her teeth.
“What did he say when you told him you didn’t want to do the things he was asking of you?”
Kaylee turned her face as far from him as she could without actually turning away. She struggled to breathe without crying, already so horribly ashamed she didn’t think she could bear to add to it. “I…I didn’t say that either.”
“No?” He didn’t sound surprised. Nor did he sound as if he were upset with her. In fact, he sounded painstakingly neutral. “Look at me, young lady.”
She didn’t want to. With everything inside of her, she didn’t want to have to look at him. If he was disappointed in her, she didn’t want to have to see it.
“Tell me what he said to you.”
Haltingly, she turned back to meet his gaze. “That I was safe.”
“Did you believe him?”
Kaylee nodded, whispering, “Yes.”
“Tell me what you said to him.” Soft spoken, gentle even—a command, nonetheless.
Kaylee wanted to melt into the floor and just disappear. “I said I’d be right back,” she confessed, her guilt compounding with every word he was pulling from her.
“And then you came to me.”
It wasn’t a question, but she answered it anyway. “Yes, sir.”
He studied her. Silent. Assessing. “You’re not a Little Maid, Kaylee. Do you know what you are?”
She had never felt so utterly rejected in her life. “A failure?”
“No, never that.” He pushed off the cupboard, bridging that handful of steps that separated them. He cupped her breasts, lightly pinching her nipples once before dropping them to pluck at her laces. She watched in unhappy defeat as he began to strip the maid’s uniform from her body. “The fault is mine. I suspected last night. By this morning, I should have known.”
“Known?” Kaylee turned when he nudged at her, then looked back at him over her shoulder while he stripped the bondage sleeve off her arms. “Known what?”
“What you are.” Tossing the sleeve into the cupboard, Master Marshall pushed the costume off over her hips. He let it fall straight down her legs, a discarded puddle of black and white cloth that left her trembling before him in nothing but that lacy tiara, clipped in her pinned up hair.
She couldn’t breathe all over again, only this time for a completely different reason. “What am I?” she whispered, wanting to know every bit as desperately as she wanted his hands to keep doing what they were doing, stroking feather-light up and down her sides, following the curves of her highs down to her thighs and back up again.
“Mine.” He reached between her legs and cupped her there, his hand as hot as it was possessive. “You don’t want the game; you want to be collared. You want be owned and controlled, one Dom, one man’s undivided attention.” He made a sound, to
o soft and breathy to really be laughter. “I have a feeling you’re the one temptation I really should say no to, but I’m going to give you what you want. I’m going to be that one man; from now until the end of your stay, you’ll belong to me.”
She stared at him, tense and hardly able to believe what she was hearing. He was going to Top her? “Can…can you do that?”
His smile turned predatory. “My dear, I’m the Master of the Castle. I can do anything.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“This is not a love match.”
Kaylee dropped her gaze to the ground, avoiding his eyes until he bent to hook his finger into the ring of her collar, forcing her to face him once more. She was beginning to hate those words, and she had to struggle to keep the strength of that feeling from showing in her eyes. “I know.”
And she did. She absolutely knew. She was here for a fun-filled vacation of submission, bondage and spanking—real life experiences to sate her once her time here was done and she had to return to the real world. This was not eHarmony, as he had already told her, and Master Marshall was not her soul mate. He was her guide, her Top, her Dom for the rest of today and until she climbed onto the bus to go home tomorrow. He was the only one who had tapped into that small, scared, uncertain part of her that ached to submit and yet could not seem to shiver for anyone else the way she did for him. He was not her love match, but he was the one who melted her with nothing more devastating than his touch or even just his tone.
But, oh how devastating it was.
Unfortunately, knowing with her body was a completely different thing from knowing with her mind. Those six little words—this is not a love match—were beginning to cut at her like dull-edged knives. Why did he have to remind her all the time? What was he afraid of? That she might cling or cause a scene when it came time to leave? That she might make things difficult for him?
Or for herself, when she had to look him in the eyes and say goodbye?
Was he afraid she might leave her submissive heart here, where he would have to crush it if she were so stupid as to try and pin it to him?
She wasn’t—she wouldn’t. Her vacation was only for three days. Nobody fell in love after only three days. How absurd! And with the Master of the Castle? A man who was only doing his job? No, she knew better. He was helping her have the time of her life while she explored—safely, sanely, consensually, just like the brochure said—all the tender nuances of the kind of submission her body had always wanted, but which she had never experienced.
Until now.
“Head down,” Master Marshall said as he released her collar. “Get your ass up.”
Kaylee bent all the way to the floor, folding her hands on the small area rug and resting her cheek upon them. Her knees still ached from the rice, but the padding of the rug made holding this position much more bearable. It didn’t do much for the embarrassment, though. A soft flush of heat warmed her as she lifted her bottom well up. Her head was facing his desk; her naked rear, the door. Anyone could walk in here right now, and if they did, they were going to get an eyeful.
God, why did the idea of that make her dampen?
Returning to his cupboard, Marshall opened a drawer. “Let’s see…which color should we use? Pink to match the pretty blush on your cheeks? Or how about dark red to match the shade your ass is going to be after your spanking? Decisions, decisions.”
“I like blue,” she offered, trying to tamp down the instant butterflies that accompanied his silken threat. Would it be a nice spanking, or was he going to punish her? Probably the latter if he planned to turn her bottom bright red. She had, after all, left Alan just standing there, waiting on her as if she were the master and he the submissive. Her stomach tightened, the butterflies multiplying wildly. Her sex tightened too, her arousal tickling along her folds.
“Blue, hm? I’m rather partial to green myself.” He made his selection, coming back with a thick metal anal plug, a well-used tube of lubricant, and a neatly looped leather leash in his hand. “Blue would look good on you, but I think I’d rather have this—” He showed her the dark-red jewel-like base of the plug. “—to remind me that, no matter how much you plead, cry and beg, or hump and waggle your lovely ass in an effort to distract me, I shouldn’t stop until we’ve achieved an appropriate shade of apology. You should have used your safeword,” he said, as he set the leash on his desk and uncapped the lubricant. “But you didn’t. You could have refused his request, but you agreed to it. And then you ran away, leaving a Master of my house simply waiting on your return. That lack of respect is going to cost you, pet. Spread your legs and hold still now. This plug is a little bigger than the one you wore for me last night. It won’t feel good going in and I doubt you’ll enjoy wearing it, but it’s going to help prepare your bottom for the punishment fucking you’ll get once you’ve apologized to Master Alan. Deep breath, now.”
Kaylee closed her eyes, rolling her face into her hands when she felt the first cold dribble of gel smear over her anus. She obediently inhaled, trying hard to relax as the head of the jeweled plug nosed at her and pressed in.
“Breathe out,” he directed. “Relax.”
He pumped it gently in and out, but all her attempts at relaxing completely evaporated when she felt the fingers of his other hand slick through the folds of her sex. He found her clit at the same time his thumb sank into her pussy, thrusting in soft, shallow motions that matched the movements of the plug, teasing and bringing her head right up off her hands. When he bit the fleshy curve of her right buttock, she arched back in surprise and impaled herself both on his thumb and the plug.
A minute sensation of pain. That’s all it was, and then the widest part of the plug popped through the last ring of resistance to embed itself as deep into her as it would go. All Kaylee could feel now was the throbbing of her wanton body and the sensual fullness of being so completely invaded. She tried to reach back, to touch it or pull it out, she wasn’t sure, but he caught her hand.
“No, pet,” Master Marshall admonished, pushing it away. “This is only one part of the punishment you’ve earned. And this—” He reached for the coiled leash on his desk, unrolling the thin leather and doubling it over twice between his hands. “—this is the other.”
The leash made a whipping sound when he brought it snapping down, not just once, but three times in rapid succession across her rump. She jumped from the start, gasping shrilly at the second lash and very nearly lost her composure when the third not only wrapped diagonally across the curve of her bottom but the ends snapped against her thigh. She yowled, her hands scrambling back before she caught herself and quickly seized hold of the rug instead.
“You disrespected a master.” The leash whipped her flanks, wrapping and hugging her in a band of fiery hurt. “You disregarded the rules set in place for your own protection.”
Kaylee grit her teeth, muffling back the yelps as snap after whipping lash branded her bottom. She tried to hold still. She tried to keep from wiggling and squirming, even when the leash caught her oh so tender thighs, but gradually her bottom was developing a life all its own, twisting and cringing to evade his reach.
“And when I told you to put your nose in the corner and keep it there, you disobeyed me. Not once.” He brought the leash down across her flanks harder. “Not twice.” He struck harder still. “Not even three times.” Three hard swipes had her clawing the rug with both hands, squealing through gritted teeth as it drove the message home. “But five times. Five times you disobeyed me.”
He did not whip her again. Instead, she heard the snap and zip as he unfastened his trousers and dropped to his knees behind her. Her only foreplay was the sound of the condom wrapper being ripped open, then the head of his cock was sliding into position, pushing between her folds. Seizing a fistful of her hair, he yanked her back and thrust up hard inside her.
Kaylee shouted, but not with pain, not even when his hips ground into her freshly whipped bottom. The welts protested, those flashes of hu
rt melting into burning, which melted into throbbing, which sank all the way through her buttocks until it became nestled in her clit and from there, the sensation spread out into all the rest of her. He took her so hard that she could feel him pounding against her cervix, grinding and thrusting so vigorously that it was all she could do to keep him from scooting across the floor. As if she were trying to get away from him instead of arching back, submitting to his strength.
She cried out, again and again. No one had every fucked her like this before. It hurt, but nowhere near as much as it felt good—the burning and the force, and the overwhelming ownership. She tried to brace herself to withstand it, reaching back between her wide-splayed knees, wanting so badly just to touch him. Just to feel the rawness and power with which he conquered her.
“No!” he snapped and slapped her bottom twice on each side. “Put your hands on the floor. You’re going to take your punishment like a good girl.”
This was punishment? Kaylee pushed her hips back, offering as much of her as he wanted to take.
“You like that do you?” He moaned dark pleasure, shoving and grinding his cock into her. “You’re going to love this, then. You may not cum, do you hear me? I forbid it.”
She sobbed the loss.
“You’re my cum bitch, aren’t you? My pretty little cock-sheath.” He rode her hard, driving up against her buttocks, the force of it slowly but surely pushing her legs out from under her. She fought to get back into position but failed, and he fucked her hard all the way down until she was flat against the floor. His low voice was a growl in her ear. “Every inch of your body belongs to me and I will take you however I want, whenever and wherever I desire.”
Wrapping his hand in her hair even tighter, he pulled her head back until she could feel the strain of it in her spine. His hot breath caressed behind her ear. “You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you, Kaylee? You deserve to have your pussy fucked hard, don’t you? Don’t you?”
