Ana Adored: Mistress of the Castle (Masters of the Castle)

by Anastasia Vitsky

  Having divested themselves of their cumbersome luggage, the other new arrivals were already making their way across the drawbridge. Ana was the last one left at the porters' station too, and though she looked, while she had a better view into the courtyard beyond the portcullis, she could see no other woman lingering on the other side who appeared to waiting for someone. It was early yet, she tried to tell herself, and not the right location. Miranda had said Orientation. Ana had to be patient until then.

  "Can I take your bag?" one of the 'servant' porters offered, gesturing to her duffel.

  "No, that's okay. I'll take it with me." Ana offered him a smile even as she shouldered her bag. Although the brochure claimed that costumes and meals would be provided at no extra cost, she'd brought a few things of her own anyway: various toiletries—hairbrush, toothbrush, deodorant, her favorite pajamas—things she didn't want lost or misplaced. Having paid one hundred dollars for Peyton to leave, she didn't have a lot of extra money with which to replace anything if her bag got lost or stolen somewhere between here and wherever she'd be spending her next eight days. Ana was also holding out hope that she might be able to afford a small souvenir from the Castle gift shop. She had no idea what, but if this turned out to be the vacation of a lifetime, by golly, she was taking home a memento.

  "You won't be going directly to your room after Orientation," the porter told her, offering a smile of his own. He also held out his hand to take her bag. "You'll go through Wardrobe first, and then tour the facility. Because outside influences—like suitcases—disrupt the fantasies of our guests, we don't allow them to pass beyond this point into the Castle with our guests. Instead, we'll cart them around to the service entrance and you'll find your bag waiting for you in your assigned room as soon as you arrive there."

  "The brochure said I'm allowed one carry bag." Ana didn't want to be difficult, but when he took a step toward her, she still backed away. "I'd prefer to keep my things with me."

  "That used to be the case, but we had to change our policy earlier this year when a guest's Walmart bag dispersed its contents on the second floor balcony. A can of hairspray fell through the banister bars and beaned a man on the first floor. Please." He beckoned with his fingers. "I'll make sure your bag reaches your assigned room with all of its contents intact. It won't get lost and it won't get stolen. I promise."

  "But how will you know which room to take it to?" Ana countered. "I don't know my room number, and the brochure said we all get fake names to protect our identities, or did that change, too?"

  "Anonymity is still king at the Castle," the porter assured her. "Porters are never guests. We are always employees of the Castle, so we do have a list of first and last names, and the room you'll be assigned to. In your case, however, I know exactly who you are—through the process of elimination." Nodding his head, he gestured back to the other porters still hovering over a small mountain of luggage, attaching tickets to each piece before loading them into the back of a wooden wagon. Pulled by a real horse, even. Or maybe it was a pony. Ana wasn't an equestrian expert, but it was sleek and pretty and the first one she'd seen in real life since she was seven. She had the most insane urge to drop everything, walk over there, and pet it.

  At the rear of the wagon, a porter with a clipboard was organizing how the luggage was loaded. His hawk eyes watched everything and everybody, and he made a notation on his clipboard every time a new ticket found its way onto a piece of luggage.

  "The other guests have already checked in," the porter beside her explained. "You're the only name still on the unaccounted list." His smile gentled. "You're Miranda's friend, am I right?"

  The morning breeze made the multicolored pennants snap and wave all along the top of the Castle's shielding wall. To Ana, it sounded like the crack of leather belts. Maybe her ears were playing tricks on her because of her location, or maybe anticipation caused wishful hearing. Either way, between that sound and hearing Miranda's name on his lips, all the fine hairs on Ana's neck and arms prickled against her skin.

  "Is she here?"

  "Yes, she is." The porter reached for her duffel bag, slow and easy, the way an expert handler would avoid startling a shy horse, and hooked her shoulder strap with his fingers. "You'll meet her soon. Right across the drawbridge, in fact. You should probably hurry though. Orientation will be starting soon."

  When he pulled, against her better judgment Ana relinquished her grip. She felt naked without something to cling to, but he'd accomplished his goal, successfully redirecting her attention until all she could do was stare transfixed across the drawbridge. She followed the line of jagged portcullis teeth to the gray stone cobbles of the courtyard, eyeing the loose straw on the ground and the busy blacksmith working a harness from a stretch of brown leather. The other guests had completely vanished from sight.

  Ana stood where she was, the breeze tugging at her clothing and hair. Her own excitement bubbled like champagne just under her skin, but she was still nervous. More nervous than she cared to admit.

  The porter touched her shoulder, giving the gentlest of nudges. "Go on. We don't bite." He winked at her, his grin flashing from reassurance into one of utter mischief. "Unless it's been negotiated."

  Ana wasn't interested in bites, negotiated or otherwise, but that did get her feet moving. Somewhere across that drawbridge, Miranda was waiting to meet her. So, across the drawbridge Ana went, a trail of colorful koi trailing in her shadow beneath the lily pads, and the hollow tromping of her own shoes sounding like the march of a soldier's boots. It echoed under the portcullis, and back through the short tunnel that granted her access to the Castle beneath the outer shielding wall.

  Once on the other side, she saw the podium first, surrounded by a half moon of folding chairs, most of which were already occupied. Two long admission tables were being attended by three women dressed like maids who asked for paperwork—

  Her paperwork! She'd left her paperwork in her duffel bag.

  Ana ran all the way back to the porters, shouting and waving both arms to stop them just before the loaded cart was led around the curtain wall and away.

  "My paperwork," she panted, once she'd caught up to them, and everything stopped while they dug through the mountain of bags to find her duffel. Finally, with paperwork in hand, she ran back again, the thundering of her feet across the drawbridge scaring the koi who, in flashes of orange and white, vanished into the depths of the dark water. Only two other guests remained at the admission tables, a man and woman who were even now finishing their transactions and stepping away to join those seated around the podium.

  "I am going to be absolutely evil," the woman giggled to her companion.

  "Be as evil as you like," the man said, with a small, indulgent smile. "I know how to keep you in line."

  She giggled and began to bounce, taking each step as tiny little hops and singing, "I want to put my kitty ears on! I want to put my kitty ears on!"

  Grinning, the man turned and presented his back. With a squeal, Miss Kitty Ears hopped up onto him, throwing her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. They both laughed as he piggy-backed her to a pair of empty chairs.

  One of the admission maids (a curly-haired blonde in an outfit so skimpy it was a wonder she didn't fall out of it with every movement she made) pouted. "Oh man, now I really want to wear kitty ears, too."

  "You wanted your nappy dress when you processed that young lady into the Nursery program not five minutes ago," chuckled the maid, dressed every bit as scantily, on her right.

  "And when those two gentlemen mentioned a Peter Pan and the Lost Boy fantasy," added another maid, sitting to both their lefts, "you wanted to wear your Tinkerbell fairy princess dress."

  "Oh my God, yes!" the curly blonde exclaimed, bouncing in her seat and waving her hands in unbridled excitement. "I'll wear my diaper and my Tinkerbell and my kitty ears! Oh, why do I have to work like this when I could be Kitty-Nursery-Tinkerbell?"

  "Because the last time you
were Tinkerbell, you ran through the Castle sprinkling people with cinnamon and sugar."

  "It was pixie dust!" the blonde shot back.

  "It was cinnamon and sugar! I sneezed for two hours!"

  "I couldn't sit for two hours! So really, which of us was worse off?"

  "Selena!" exclaimed both maids at the same time and in the same half-laughing, half-exaggerated tone. "You're impossible!"

  Neither chastened nor offended, the blonde woman—Selena—sighed. "I know." Then she noticed Ana standing a short distance away and perked up. "Hi! I'm Selena. Come, come, come—don't be shy! Is this your first time to the Castle?"

  "Yes." Eyeing all three maids, as well as the vacant podium behind her and all the occupied chairs filled by the other guests, Ana approached the table. She presented the manila envelope that held everything Miranda had told her to bring: a printout of her blank online application (which was filled in with only her pertinent information—name, address, phone number—because Miranda had said they'd go over the rest together once she arrived), a printout of the Castle's own extensive list of available activities (it was seven pages long and the only check Ana penned in was on the line situated right next to 'Spanking') and her medical results. Fortunately, Calvary approved of her getting a new physical examination, complete with bloodwork and an STI screening. She still blushed at having to go in and ask for one.

  "Is this your paperwork?" Selena took the package, dumping the contents on the table before her. She sorted through it, putting the forms in order before paper-clipping everything together. She looked inside the now empty manila envelope, observing, "You don't have a wristband. That's not supposed to happen. Oh… oh, wait a minute." She picked up the incomplete admission form and connected it with the only file folder left in a box on the ground by her foot. "You're Miranda's friend! You're our special case!"

  Jumping up from her seat, she dashed around the table and engulfed Ana in an unexpected bear hug.

  "I'm so glad to meet you!" Selena cheered, bouncing so exuberantly that Ana had no choice but to bounce along with her.

  When one worked with preschoolers, returning unexpected hugs became second nature, and so Ana did. Wide-eyed, she patted Selena's back, wondering all the while what might have merited such an astonishing welcome. "Um… th-thanks."

  "Once you get settled in, we'll have to do a girls' night out. I'll introduce you to everybody. We'll have so much fun!" Selena squealed, gave Ana a tight squeeze and released her. Bouncing back around to her side of the table, she dropped into her seat and, with schizophrenic ease, became all business-like once more. "Miranda wanted you to have all your papers when she got here, so you take these." She handed Ana her files. "Orientation is right over there. Technically, we can't let you in to the Castle yet because your paperwork isn't finalized, but everyone knows you're special."

  "What does that mean?" Ana glanced from the folder to Selena. "What makes me special?"

  "Miranda does," Selena said, as if that were obvious. "Don't worry about all that now. I'm sure Miranda will explain everything after Orientation. It's going to start pretty soon, so you should go find a seat." She waved Ana toward the half-moon of folding chairs, before snapping back around to her companions. "Is that everybody? Can we go inside now? If I don't get some kitty ears on me soon, I am going to die!"

  That was one scary woman. Vivacious, bouncy, enthusiastic… possibly even crazy. Fortunately, as big as the Castle was, Ana seriously doubted if she'd bump into Selena again.

  Ana circled the podium in search of an empty chair. Just her luck, all the ones along the back and outer edges of the half-moon were occupied. She had to squeeze her way to the only open chair left; and that was located in the exact middle of the second row. That put her directly in front of the podium, between a middle-aged man who couldn't stop clearing his throat or playing with his baby-blue wristband, and two giggling brunettes who were comparing theirs.

  "I want a red bracelet. How did you get red when I got yellow?"

  "I don't know," the other replied. "What sort of kinky stuff did you put on your application?"

  "Well, I didn't go all anal, if that's what you're asking. Exchange with me? Please! Red's my favorite color."

  "Oh, hell no!"

  "I said I didn't go all anal."

  "Yeah, and that's why I said hell no!"

  One laughed so hard she snorted. Clapping their hands over their mouths, both women burst into uncontrolled giggles. Trying not to eavesdrop, Ana pulled out the papers Selena had given her and tried to find any place that might mention her anal preferences. She was relieved to find that section blank. In fact, all the sections were blank. That must be part of what she and Miranda were supposed to go over later on. She turned in her chair, scanning the rest of the crowd in search of anyone who might be peeking around, looking for her in turn. Everyone seemed preoccupied with their papers or their neighbors. Maybe Miranda wasn't here yet, although both the porter and the bouncy maid had spoken of her not only as if she were, but as if they knew her. Miranda must come here fairly often.

  Across the old cobblestone courtyard, the front Castle doors—giant twin slabs of metal and wood—swung open, and a tall woman in the old, drab costume of a stately housekeeper strolled down the steps and crossed toward the podium. She was the tallest woman Ana had ever seen in her life. Handsome, too. Perhaps not classically beautiful, but attractive, with high cheekbones and long brown hair tied back in a bun at her nape. From the moment those giant doors opened and she emerged from the shadows between them, the chatting fell silent and all around Ana, the other guests sat up straighter.

  Ana sat up straighter too, but only because she was so short that now she couldn't see past those sitting in front of her. At least not until the tall woman mounted the dais. At the podium, she faced the waiting audience and graced them all with the warmest of smiles. When her eyes met Ana's, the only woman in the audience without a colored program bracelet on her arm, she paused. Her smile softened, and then grew, and with it grew a heady warmth that immediately began to tangle with the nerves already tightening in the pit of Ana's stomach.

  "Good morning," the tall woman said, a soft British accent changing her vowels and consonants into something lilting and beautiful. "My name is Mrs. Hardwick… Mrs. Miranda Hardwick."

  Ana stopped breathing, her chest convulsing so hard and tight that for a moment it felt as if her heart had stopped mid-beat. This elegant woman in servant's clothing was Miranda, the woman she'd been talking to for eight months on Heaven in Horticulture. The woman who had threatened to spank her and who had, in fact, brought her all this way to give her the very experience.

  "Welcome," Miranda said, still staring at her as if no one else in that courtyard full of people existed apart from them. "Welcome to the Castle."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "After you," Miranda said, unlocking the door and holding it open for Ana.

  If this was the assigned room the brochure had assured her the Castle would provide, then it was magnificent. Located on the third floor, its size was less like a hotel and more like her own apartment back home. The immediate entryway opened onto an orderly kitchen, which fed into an open-concept dining and living area. A closet-lined corridor led to the bathroom, with a queen-sized bed peeking through the open door at the very end of the hall. And the plants… they were everywhere, green and healthy, and growing on every available surface.

  "Wow," Ana said, breathing in the summer-scent of flowers on the air. "This is much bigger than I thought. I expected only a bathroom and a bed."

  "Which is what most guest rooms consist of," Miranda said, closing the door behind them. "Welcome to my home."

  Miranda had taken her to her home? Ana stopped between the kitchen and living room, as overwhelmed by the sudden intimacy of this peek into her online friend's private life as she was by the magnitude of flora hanging from rows of eyehooks in the ceiling. Vines and leaves dripped like waterfalls to the floor, all but devouring one e
nd of the couch. An overgrowing spider plant was attempting to engulf the desk the same way, and a veritable jungle lined the windowsills. She should have known this was Miranda's apartment by the vegetation alone.

  "Wow," she said again, rounding the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen and living room. "This is beautiful. You really are the queen of Heaven in Hor—"

  She stopped when she saw her duffel bag, resting on the floor just behind a corner of the leaf-covered couch. It wasn't waiting for her in some as yet unnamed resort room. It was here. As if she was meant to spend her vacation here, her nights here. With Miranda, perhaps even in her own bed no less, unless this plant-engulfed couch folded out.

  Ana honestly didn't know whether she ought to be thrilled or alarmed. She had wanted for so long to be wanted—not just for the surface things, but for who and what she was in all her most secret and hidden parts. She also wanted someone to think her worth making an effort for, and Miranda had certainly done that. She'd done that and more, but this was also their first meeting, and they'd barely done more than exchange a tentative 'Hi, how are you,' hug in the courtyard once Orientation was over.

  Miranda was beautiful. All Ana had to do was look at her and her stomach turned molten and tense, her chest got tight, her fingertips tingled. During the whole walk through the Castle, from the courtyard up three long flights of stairs to the third floor employee apartments, it had been everything Ana could do not to reach out and touch Miranda's hair. It was so long and seemed so soft, and that bun looked far too stern for what Ana could see in Miranda's eyes every time she glanced back over her shoulder at her.

  Even now, standing mere feet away, with this awkward silence filling up the space between them, the need to comb her fingers through Miranda's hair, to free the long chestnut tresses from the confines of all those bobby pins, itched in Ana's hands. At the same time, however, it was as if her sexual participation had been seen as a foregone conclusion right from the very start. She honestly didn't know how to feel about that.