When The Gavel Falls (Masters of the Castle)

by Tabitha Black

  Her jaw tightened.

  "Widen your stance."

  She stepped her feet out as far as she could without hitting his, opening her legs.

  He brought one hand around the front of her and tucked his thumb between her thighs. Despite the tension between them, her pussy glistened with moisture. He pulled his thumb out and turned it around, showing her how her juices made it glossy. Dragging it across her taut belly, he wiped the moisture on her skin.

  "You must be starving by now. We had a long night, and you didn't eat the food I put in your bowl."

  Her expression tightened, and her gaze darted to the cage with a look of fear. He didn't actually plan to put her in it again, although he wasn't above using it as punishment if necessary. He had made his point.

  A light tap sounded at the door.

  Portia stiffened.

  "Come in," he called out. "Don't move," he said to his nervous slave.

  She locked her knees, lifted her eyes and stared straight forward, like a soldier under inspection.

  He sat back and smirked as a waiter came in pushing his cart of food. "You can leave them right here," he said, patting the table beside him.

  "Yes, sir," the young man said, completely unfazed by the naked woman standing on display. He unloaded the dishes and accepted the tip. "Thank you, sir."

  When the door closed, David said, "Kneel up," and snapped his fingers, pointing toward his feet.

  She folded her long legs underneath her, coming to her knees, her hands still on her head.

  He gripped both her nipples between his fingers and rolled them, pinching and releasing, tugging until she made the most pleasing little "Ahh" sound.

  "Place your hands behind your back," he said, guessing that they might be losing circulation by that point. He uncovered the dishes to reveal a fruit platter, pancakes and an omelet.

  She looked over hungrily.

  "Are you going to eat this time, pet?" He tore a piece of pancake off with his fingers, smeared a dollop of butter on it and dipped it in the maple syrup. "Open," he said, bringing it to her mouth.

  Her lips parted, taking the food with delicate precision. When she flicked her tongue to clean the spot of syrup that had dribbled down his thumb, he nearly came.

  Food had always been erotic to him. The way flavor stimulated his senses, the pleasure in seeing others enjoy something he'd prepared or chosen for them gave him the same heady thrill of domination.

  He prepared another bite, this time adding a ripe raspberry to the top.

  Once more, she popped it neatly into her mouth and ate with gusto. She had to be hungry. He leaned down and kissed her maple sweet lips while she chewed, surprising her. She swallowed and gave a tentative smile, looking bewildered.

  He chuckled, realizing it had been their first kiss. He would kiss her later, properly, when she'd earned it. Cutting a bite of omelet with his fork, he fed it to her. She chewed more slowly this time, as if examining the notes of the flavors with her tongue.

  "How is it?" he asked.

  She shrugged and nodded.

  "Not cloying and pretentious enough?"

  He thought she'd scowl, but she had the grace to smile and he loved her for it. "Perhaps we'll see if they'll let us into the kitchen so we can make something a little more highbrow. Of course, we don't have the ability to source anything special at this point."

  #

  David was seriously messing with her mind. One minute cold and biting, the next, a thoughtful caretaker. He hadn't even eaten a bite yet himself! And he watched her chew as if it were the most sensuous experience of his life. She supposed she could see the attraction. She often found an amazing meal to be orgasmic. It loosened her up the same way a fine wine or good spanking did.

  He continued to feed her until she patted her stomach to show she'd had enough. Only then did he eat. "I see what you mean about the omelet," he commented.

  When he'd finished, he stacked the plates up neatly and pushed them aside. "It's time for your morning spanking," he said, patting his lap.

  She stood up, the blood rushing to her feet after kneeling for so long. He took her hand and guided her over his lap. The first slap came harder than she expected and she jumped. He rubbed away the sting and applied the same treatment to the other side.

  "You remember what I told you last night, pet? I intend to keep your bottom very sore. Our time together is about punishment and retribution." He began to spank her rapidly, alternating between her right and left sit-spots with expert aim. He picked up the intensity and she involuntarily kicked up her heels until he pushed them back down and clamped one leg over the top of hers. "I'm not going to go easy on you," he said, still paddling at a pace too fast for her to control her reactions. The fire began to set in and she jerked and squirmed. He clamped an arm around her waist, continuing to spank.

  She clamped her lips tight, but noises still escaped—grunts and gasps, high pitched squeals. Panic began to rise… something about the pace and her complete lack of control made her fight the spanking. He must not have minded, because he didn't scold her for struggling.

  Just when she thought it would never stop, his hand stilled, stroking her blazing cheeks lightly.

  "That's the way I like your ass," he observed. "Blushing."

  She squirmed, his words igniting a fire in her lower belly.

  "That was your warm up," he said then, sending a spike of panic down her inner thighs. "Let's see how well you take the tawse."

  She drew a breath just before the first lick of split leather struck her buttocks. She held the inhalation, squeezing her cheeks together.

  He waited until she released them to strike again. If the warm up had been too fast, the leathering came too slowly. She quivered in anticipation of each stripe, inwardly cursing him each time it fell. A dozen strokes came and went. And then he picked up the pace. The blessing of lying over his lap was that he couldn't take a full swing of his arm. The leather slapped, but it didn't bite as hard as it would have if he'd had more room. Even so, it made her squirm, especially when he applied it to the backs of her legs.

  She almost moaned 'no' after the second time he struck there, but caught it just in time, so it sounded more like, 'nuh.' Knowing David, he knew exactly what had happened, but thankfully, he didn't take her to task over it.

  Forty-two strokes. She counted them all, and her eyes had begun to smart by the time he finished. She panted, collapsing over his knees in relief when his large hand stroked her swollen flesh. Please let that be all. Please not another implement or a second set.

  "What happens to naughty food critics?" he asked. "You may answer me."

  "They get spanked?" she croaked.

  "They get punished by the arrogant chefs they insult." He slid two fingers between her legs, gliding over her aching pussy.

  She pushed back at him hungrily.

  He gave her bottom a sharp slap. "They get put back in their place." His fingers dipped in again and she moaned. "Where is your place, Portia? You may answer."

  "At your feet?"

  "On your knees at my feet," he said, pushing her off his lap.

  She understood his meaning and reached for the button of his pants, eager to serve him. Nothing felt more deliciously submissive than giving oral pleasure with a throbbing ass. She gripped the base of his cock and brought her lips down, licking around the head like it was an ice-cream cone. A salty drop of pre-cum rewarded her efforts and she took him into her mouth, running the head of his manhood along the roof of her mouth to the back of her throat. She hadn't yet learned how to suppress her gag reflex, but for him, she wanted to try. She took it slowly, willing herself to relax as she slid him deeper and deeper.

  He groaned. "Do that again," he said in a hoarse voice.

  She repeated the movement, hoping he wouldn't grasp her head and pull it in, or she might panic. She needed to know she was controlling the action so her throat wouldn't close. He let her do her thing and she continued, working it deeper
each time until his breathing became labored.

  "Faster," he rasped. She stopped deep-throating and picked up the pace, closing her fist around the base of his cock and using it in concert with her mouth.

  He picked up the tawse and whipped her ass with it while she sucked, causing her to emit a muffled shriek. "You've been a bad girl. Show me you're sorry," he said, whipping her again.

  She nearly came right then, her pussy swelling and opening, moisture dripping out as she bobbed in earnest over his thick cock.

  He whipped her again and again, while she moaned and sucked and quivered, nearly falling apart in the most passionate sexual service she had ever given.

  "Bad, bad girl," he said, whipping harder.

  She used both hands, twisting and squeezing as her mouth provided the moisture and heat.

  "Oh God," he yelled, grasping her by the hair and yanking her in, holding her there as he came.

  She looked up and jerked, realized he'd been filming the whole thing on his phone. Furious, she tried to pull away from him, but he held her firm. They struggled for a moment and she actually considered using her teeth, but then he released her.

  "Red," she snapped, lunging for the phone, which he held high out of her reach. "That is completely unethical," she said, scrambling to her feet. The bastard probably planned to put it on the internet under the title "Food Critic On Knees Blowing Chef David Dean."

  He also stood, elevating the phone above their heads. "Just hold on…"

  "I'm sure it's against Castle rules, not to mention basic BDSM play etiquette—"

  He caught her around the waist with his free arm, pinning one of her arms to her side.

  She twisted to get free, but he yanked her against him, pulling her to his lap as he fell back into the chair.

  She opened her mouth to yell 'Onions.'

  "Wait, Portia," he said quickly. "You can erase it. I just want you to watch it first. I want you to see how hot you look. Here—you can hold it. Just watch first."

  She stilled, turning to look at his face.

  He appeared earnest, pressing the phone into her hands and hitting the triangle shaped play button.

  She scowled, hating witnessing herself on any form of media; photos, video, even voicemail. At first she didn't even think it was the right video. The woman—yes, it was her—looked like a porn star. It wasn't just the nudity, although that was shocking too, but it was the way she was going after his cock. She had no hesitation, no shame. And there—the tawse flashed down. She squeezed her cheeks together just watching the scene. It was unbelievably hot. Her pussy pulsed anew.

  He reached around her and tapped the screen, then pointed to the garbage can that appeared. "Erase it."

  She touched the garbage can and confirmed delete.

  "There aren't any others, but you are welcome to check. She scrolled forward and backward through his photo and video library, but he appeared to be telling the truth. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling her hips to one thigh so he could turn her to face him. "You are right, I violated your trust and basic etiquette. You just looked so damn hot, I wanted to show you. I swear I never would have kept it, or posted it, or shared it with anyone but you."

  She studied his face, trying to decide whether to believe him.

  "Portia," he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Get back on your knees."

  Frissons of tension ran between them. She knew he was testing. Would she fall back under his authority? Or make him grovel a little more? Part of her wanted to make him beg. She enjoyed seeing him humbled. Actually, she found him charming like this.

  But she hadn't come to the Castle for charming. And she didn't plan on doing any of the spanking while she was here. She slid off his lap and sank to her knees.

  He took her head in both his hands and tipped it forward to plant a kiss on her forehead. When he released her, he made a circling motion with his index finger. "Turn around and show me your ass—I want to see those stripes. On your knees and elbows, with your hips high."

  Her moment of power over, she sank back into a submissive mindset, assuming the position he described.

  "I have some phone calls to return. Do not move from position until I give you permission."

  She rested her forehead on the floor, grateful for the area rug padding her knees.

  "Hi, it's me," he said into the phone.

  A female voice responded.

  "What's up?"

  The other person spoke, going on for a long time.

  "Listen," he said when the speaker had paused. "You don't go ask dad when mom tells you no."

  Portia froze. He had a kid? Did he have a wife, too? What the hell? She had no right to feel betrayed, but she did. Her entire body turned cold. She wanted to just disappear and forget her entire, bizarre time at the Castle had ever happened.

  "No. Jerry's in charge while I'm gone. I'm not going to undermine his authority, and it's not right for you to call me behind his back and try to get your way. I don't appreciate that, Jess."

  Her muscles relaxed. Not a child. An employee. He'd been speaking in metaphor. And God, the way he was domming his employee made her want to come.

  The person on the phone had been talking, but David cut in. "I don't want to hear it. The only thing I want to hear from you is, 'I'm sorry for bugging you on your vacation' and 'happy new year.' Hang on just a second."

  Portia shrieked as David suddenly laid a fresh blaze of fire across her ass, whipping her several times with the tawse. He had plenty of throw-room now, and the leather bit into her flesh. "I said to keep your ass in the air. I expect your complete obedience, or you will receive moderate to severe punishment, do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir," she yelped, before remembering not to speak.

  He didn't address her mistake though, returning to his call. Oh dear God, had the other person heard their exchange? Even though she didn't know the caller and she couldn't see her, the idea of someone involuntarily witnessing the scene embarrassed her.

  "Thank you," he said. "Now stop giving Jerry shit. It's stressful enough for him to manage everything while I'm gone."

  Portia's legs shook from the spanking, but she held her backside high in the air, dying for his attention—in whatever form it came.

  "Okay. Be good, or you'll have me to answer to when I get back... all right, sweetheart, have a good night. Make me proud. Bye."

  #

  David hung up and admired Portia. He had the full view of her glistening cunt, as well as her well-whipped ass. For good measure, he gave her several more strokes with the tawse, then crawled over her and took a fistful of her hair.

  "Bad girl," he scolded. "You know better than to speak without permission. I'm going to fuck your ass for that."

  Portia made a mewling sound.

  He stood up and retrieved a bottle of lube. When he returned, he said, "Reach back and spread your cheeks wide for me."

  She lifted her torso, coming to stand on her knees.

  "No, no. Put your face back on the floor."

  She lowered her body in sequential steps—to her hands, then forearms, then chest and face. She turned her cheek to one side, her big eyes blinking. Tentatively, she reached back and pulled her buttocks apart.

  "That's it."

  From where he was standing, he squirted the lube, allowing it to plop unceremoniously on her crack. She flinched but held position.

  He lowered to his knees behind her and used his thumb to circle her anus. "Do you speak to me without asking permission, pet?"

  She rolled her head from side to side.

  He put on a condom and rubbed lube on his sheathed cock before pressing it to her anus. "Deep breath in."

  She inhaled.

  "Exhale and push back at me."

  She obeyed and he slid in, going slowly to allow her time to adjust to the sensation.

  She squealed, alarm sounding in her voice.

  "You've been a very bad girl," he lectured. "And now you have to take yo
ur punishment. Reach one hand between your knees and find your clit."

  She released her butt cheeks and threaded her hand underneath to play with herself.

  He reached there, too, tangling his fingers with hers, checking to be sure of her arousal. He found her dripping wet. David started to move his cock back, but she gave another panicked squeal.

  "Shh, relax pet," he counseled. Realizing her perineum was stretched too tight in the position he put her, he wrapped his arm around her waist to keep their bodies glued together and murmured, "Slide out to your belly."

  When she didn't move at all, he lifted her torso and urged her forward. She took a sharp breath, but slid out. Once she lay flat, his body covering hers, he began to undulate his hips.

  This time, her cries sounded more wanton, the high pitch of fear gone. He kept his pelvis pressed against her heated ass, moving within her with little thrusts. Her moans began to sound hungry, then desperate.

  He started to lose control, his muscles straining, heat pouring off their bodies. Everything about her felt so good. The cushioned give of her ass, the tightness of her channel, the wriggle of her legs beneath his.

  She gripped his wrists, digging her nails into his skin.

  "I'm fucking... your naughty... ass," he grit out with each thrust.

  "Yeeesss," she cried, then gasping, "sorry... so sorry, I'm sorry" as he moved faster, though still careful not to hurt her.

  He jerked, his climax unstoppable. "Portia…" he gasped, burying his cock deep in her ass as he came.

  "Ahhh... ah," she squealed, squeezing his wrists even tighter.

  When she had gone limp beneath him, he eased out and rolled to his side, gathering her to him, spooning her trembling body.

  "Sweet little pet," he murmured, tracing the elegant curve of her shoulder. "Come on, let's get up on the bed."

  He helped her into the bed and meshed his body with hers once more. Stroking her soft skin, he drank her in, enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

  Her breath slowed and deepened, and he realized she'd fallen asleep. He held her that way for a while, but eventually got up and left her a note.

  Portia Pet—

  I have a few errands to run.