Mastering Inga (Service & Submission Book 2)

by Michaels, Megan

  Although vague, she grasped the meaning easily enough. He casually watched her raise her skirt to sit on her bare bottom. She waited until Madalyn’s attention was momentarily averted before obeying his command. When Inga lifted her eyes to look at him, he nodded sternly back at her, then addressed the kids.

  “Madalyn, you and Liam will be spending the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I’ll get you both tomorrow morning. We’ll pack your little suitcase and a diaper bag for your brother. Bring whatever you think you need for Grandma’s. We’ll leave right after breakfast.” He pointed his fork at Madalyn’s plate urging her to finish eating.

  Madalyn gave a sideways glance at Inga and quickly dove into her eggs. “What’re you and Miss Inga going to do while we’re gone? Don’t do anything fun, Daddy. You’re supposed to miss us when we’re gone. Okay?”

  “I promise we’ll miss you horribly. We’re going to stay at home, and we’ll be cleaning or reading. Nothing that’s fun for you or Liam.” Inga smiled sweetly at her. “Does that make you feel better?”

  It pleased him to see how easily she could redirect Madalyn and encourage her. How such a wonderful woman ended up in his house, he’d never know. But as spectacular as some women could be, it didn’t mean they didn’t sometimes need correction to be even better.

  After a few silent, uncomfortable moments at the table, everyone choking the last of their eggs down, they were done with their meal.

  Garrett stood, clapping his hands together. “Okay, let’s get stuff ready for Grandma’s house!”

  Chapter Eleven

  Inga sat nervously at the table. He’d told her that she was to be naked, bent over the Queen Ann’s chair in the master bedroom. How appropriate — The Master’s Bedroom. It had a whole new meaning to her this morning.

  Jävla handen — ‘fucking the hand.’ That’s what it was called in her country. He’d told her to not ‘fuck her hand.’ She knew that if he caught her masturbating, it would be trouble. Painful trouble. A spanking would be the least of her issues today, and he’d assured her that after her upcoming punishment, she’d never do jävla handen again. At least not unless he’d ordered her to.

  She found that hard to believe — she loved masturbating with her toys. They were more reliable than men. They didn’t give orders, they didn’t leave clothes around the house, they didn’t have erection issues, they didn’t decide to fall asleep before you get your orgasm, and they never, ever pissed you off. They stayed hard as long as you needed them — be it two minutes or two hours. Hell, you could even fall asleep with a toy still inside.

  Damn! I don’t want to stop playing with my toys!

  She stood up and made her way down the hall. Time to get into position. She walked into the Master bedroom — Master Garrett’s bedroom. There was evidence that a man had moved in to a room that once might have had a more feminine feel, exhibit A being the pile of pretty accent pillows heaped into a corner of the room. Did all men hate accent pillows? The room had been done in shades of burgundy and vermilion interspersed with gold tassels and accents on the drapes and pillows. The wood on the bed and dressers was a deep mahogany. Anne had obviously wanted to keep it masculine, yet also leave some subtle feminine touches. The chair she had been instructed to lie over was a beautiful burnt sienna.

  Walking into the Master bath, she went searching for a towel. Opening the linen closet, she pulled out a brown towel and walked back to the chair. She didn’t want to stain the chair, and with the amount of juice that was weeping from her pussy, she’d definitely leave her mark if she wasn’t careful. She drew her sundress over her head, folding it neatly on the dresser. She draped herself over the arm of the chair, and took in a slow, deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, resting her head on the arm on the other side of the chair. It was at times like this that being tall and leggy was not to her advantage. She felt too gangly to fit comfortably in this position. The arm of the chair successfully kept her toes off the floor — which she was pretty sure was the point. It didn’t make enduring the awkward position any easier though. Her clit pressed firmly against the arm of the chair, and though fear should have stolen away her ability to be aroused by the contact, her body apparently didn’t care — as evidenced by the copious production of fittsaft.

  The front door opened, the creak of the hinge giving her chills. Instantly, her heart was in her throat. She clenched her fists, tucking them in against her chest. Her ass facing the door only added to her nervousness and humiliation.

  She listened to his heavy footfalls on the steps of the staircase. Slowly, he made his way to the room, the snick of the door closing behind him making her draw a quick, frightened breath.

  “Well, if that isn’t a sight to behold. I have to say, my dear, you have a gorgeous ass. An ass made for love and discipline.” He pinched it as he walked by, moving around to stand at her head.

  Squatting down until he was at eye level with her, his relaxed hands dangled between his knees. “You’ve been a bad girl today, Missy. Haven’t you?”

  “Yes, Master.” Her voice quavered as she said it. She hated showing hesitation or fear. Weakness — that’s what it was. She’d always vowed never to show weakness.

  “In case I’ve neglected to say it, I want to tell you now. I love your orgasms. Your body comes alive, every inch of you. You shiver and shake, your breasts wobble and rise with your breaths, your nipples hard as pebbles from your arousal. Your head goes back, and your mouth opens in complete and utter awe. Your eyelids flutter and you clench and unclench your fists with your toes curling and joints cracking in anticipation of the earth shattering orgasms to come. And when that orgasm hits, you shriek and groan deep in your throat, your body stiffening, and that clit of yours peeks through your labia begging to be licked and sucked. And then almost immediately after your fall into the Big O, your body shakes, shivers, and convulses, the thrust of your hips like a jackhammer against my hand, face, or cock, your body milking and squeezing tight upon the invited guest of your hot little cunt.”

  He shook his head. “This is why I don’t want to share your orgasms. I’m selfish like that, and I want to be the one to make that happen for you. I want to be the one who gets your juices dripping onto my hand, face, or cock — not a piece of plastic. And the thought of sharing with a goddamned rubber duck just pisses me off. I refuse to share with six inches of plastic that vibrates, and if I do share you with a vibrator, it’ll be my hand that controls how hard it’s pushed in, what it rubs upon, and how intense your orgasm will be. You will not steal those away from me again.”

  “I’m sorry, Master.”

  “I’m sure you think you’re sorry. But I promise you, sweetie, before this evening is over, you’ll be very sorry you played with your toy this morning.”

  He rose, walking behind her and patting her hip. “We’re going to start with a small spanking to get some of the juices running, so to speak, and warm up your clit. Good thinking putting this towel here. Let me see if it’s wet.”

  He slid his finger under her sex, tickling her clit before he pulled his hand out. “Oh, Missy, you’ve drenched the towel already. I’ll keep you hydrated today. We want to be sure you keep producing this nectar. I don’t want you going dry with all the stimulation you’ll be receiving today.”

  He wiped his finger on the inside of her thigh, and she cried out in surprise at the painful slap of his hand against her bottom. He quickly proceeded to swat her derriere quickly, and very hard. She tried to clench her muscles, her feet coming up automatically, but he had a leg over hers keeping her bent and helpless against his swats. Just as she was starting to mewl with the pain, he quit. He stood over her silently, stroking her buttocks with his soft hands.

  “I’m going to be plugging you with a medium-sized butt plug. It’s a vibrating one too. I’m sure it’ll keep you aroused. That arousal will just be the start of what I plan to do to you today.”

  The sounds of tearing plastic and ripping paper behind her let her kn
ow that he’d purchased this for her. That fact somehow didn’t comfort her.

  “I’m going to stretch you for this. You’ll feel cool lube back here. I’m using arousal gel to heighten your arousal. It has ginger oil in it. You’ll feel an intense burn, but the purpose is to increase your clitoral stimulation — and ginger does that perfectly.”

  The cap popped open on the container, then a moment later, his cool, slick fingers touched her little hole, making her clench tight. “Uh-uh, relax your anus. If you’re a good girl, it won’t hurt. The choice is yours whether this is comfortable or not.”

  He pushed his fingers slowly into her, easing in and out. Every time he exited, it felt like another finger had been added when he pushed back inside. “There we go. Your sphincter just relaxed. You’re ready now for the plug. I’m coating it with the ginger oil and lube. You’ll feel the burn from the ginger, it’ll have a distinct feeling. Have you ever been figged?”

  “No, Master.”

  “What kind of Dom did you have anyway? Figging and masturbation restriction are pretty common. I’m surprised. Okay. Here we go, girlie. Push back, push like you’re going to the bathroom. It’ll open up your puckered hole.” He eased forward slowly and she felt cool lube being squeezed onto her opening. “That’s a good girl. You’re doing such a good job.”

  Then the burn kicked in. “Oh my Gud! What did you put up my asshole?”

  “Watch your tone, girl! You’re in enough trouble as it is. Unclench your little rosebud.”

  “Ditt dumma kukhuvud! Jesus. It burns. Oh, Gud!” She tried reaching back to pull the plug out.

  Garrett stopped pushing the plug in to swat the underside of her backside several times at the juncture where the bottom meets the thigh. “I can tell by the tone that what you said wasn’t appropriate. Tell me what you just said.”

  “I-I don’t want t-to. You’ll be angry.”

  “I’m already upset with you. This can’t make it worse. I know you called me names, I just want to know what you said so I can catalog it in my mind. Now, Inga.”

  “I said, ‘you stupid dickhead’ but... I did it because it hurt. I didn’t think you—”

  “You didn’t think I’d make you tell me is what you’ve been saying.” He slapped her bottom while holding the plug partially in her little hole. “Let’s continue. I’m adding oil and lube. It hurts. It’s supposed to hurt, but you’ll see very soon that your arousal will climb with that pain.”

  Once the plug popped in, Inga let out a sigh of relief. Then a vibration began, a pulsing and roiling in her dark channel that increased gradually until she rocked on the arm of the chair, her pussy spasming in response to the anal vibrations and the heat of the ginger oil.

  And just as quickly that vibration was turned down again.

  “We’ll keep it at the lowest speed for now. Like I said, it’ll be a constant arousal in the background. C’mon let’s get you up. Bring the towel with you. We’re going to watch a movie now.”

  He smiled at her, then turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her staring after him.

  Is he kidding? How the fuck am I supposed to watch a movie with this thing vibrating in my asshole?

  She didn’t want to add to her punishment though, so she followed him, walking with a wide, uncomfortable gait hoping she’d be able to adjust to the girth and vibrations of the plug deep inside her.

  * * *

  Garrett turned the TV on just as Inga walked into the room naked, her long shapely legs slightly akimbo and walking rather stiffly, no doubt trying to accommodate the stout plug in her bottom. She looked absolutely adorable. As she passed him, he caught a profile view of her lush buttocks, flushing pink with his handprints. His cock jerked in response.

  His slave. His Swedish slave with his handprints marking her.

  “We’re going to watch the Wolf of Wall Street. This movie supposedly has the word ‘fuck’ used more times than any movie ever made.”

  She raised her eyebrows, confused.

  “Wait. Let me explain. So, the object of this punishment: I’m going to stimulate you just enough to get you close, and then we’ll stop and wait for the next time the word ‘fuck’ is said in the movie.”

  He reached out, motioning for her to give him the towel. He folded it over twice, then laid it on the couch cushion. “Come sit down, Miss Inga.” Grabbing the remote, he hid a smile as he watched her gingerly sit on the towel. Between her sore bottom and the vibrating plug, sitting couldn’t have been easy for her. He pulled her toward him, tucking her against his side.

  “Here we go. Are you excited? Of course you are.” She furrowed her eyebrows and pursed her lips in an adorable pout. “Sorry about that. It’s not funny, is it?”

  They weren’t two minutes into the movie before the first “fuck” was uttered.

  “Okay, open your legs, Missy.” He put his fingers up into her pussy, shocked at how wet she already was. “Oh, Inga, you’re dripping, I’m glad I put this towel down.

  His drenched finger made several swipes around her clit and through her labia. “Let’s count them. Won’t that be fun?” He dropped his voice into a thick eastern European accent. “One swipe, two swipes, three swipes! Ah. Ah. Ah!” He grinned at her, and she looked at him as if he’d suddenly grown a second head. “Did you see what I did there? Just like The Count.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed and she probably would’ve crossed her arms in a pout if she hadn’t been busy clutching the couch cushions in a death grip.

  “Ten swipes. That’s enough and now we’ll explore your little pussy again and try to find that g-spot. Oh, oh — there it is. We’ll only do one swipe of that — we don’t want you to come. That’d be breaking the rules of the game.”

  He pulled out of her, grabbing a wipe from a container on the coffee table. They continued this way for the next hour.

  “Oh, look sweetie. He said ‘fuck.’ Come here, baby.”

  Swipe, swipe, swipe.

  By the time ninety minutes had passed, he reached down to swipe her again, but she moaned and began to cry. “I-I can’t do this anymore. I need to come, please.”

  “Sorry, baby. I can’t do that. Do you think you’ll use your rubber duck again anytime soon?” He casually circled her clit while his finger pumped her pussy.

  “N-n-n — ah ah — no I won’t. I p-pr — ah, oh god! I won’t. I promise.”

  “Well, I think I might actually believe you. Do you think you want to come now?” Garrett lifted her chin, kissing her on the nose.

  “Yes, Master. Yes please, Master!”

  “Okay. Because you asked so nicely, this is what we’re going to do. C’mon get up. Oh, sweetie, your legs are shaking. Here let me help you.”

  He walked her over to the bar stools. “Now I want you to sit down. At least these stools are leather. I can wash them after you’re done polishing them with your fittsaft. I want you to sit so your butt plug and most of your bottom is hanging off the back of the stool.”

  She frowned, but she would’ve stood on her head in a pool of Jell-O at this point to have an orgasm. She sat down, sliding back until her buttocks hung off the stool. Garrett pressed his fingertips on the bottom of the plug and turned the vibration up at the same time. She shrieked, grabbing the edge of the counter top and leaned forward on the stool.

  “Uh-uh, no leaning forward or closing your thighs. I want you to open your legs and put your feet on the second rung so your clit is exposed completely.”

  Garrett swiveled her to face him, and her clit was red and extended from under the hood. Leaning over, he blew lightly on it reveling in the way it made her body shiver and convulse.

  He took mercy on her though. “Okay. I won’t blow on it. Not too much at least.” He winked at her, swiveling her back to face the counter.

  She growled low in her throat.

  “I wouldn’t misbehave, slave. You’ll be sorry. You don’t want to antagonize the Master at this point, do you?”

  He was beginning to t
hink she wasn’t going to answer, then in a sweet voice she said, “No, Master. I don’t want to antagonize you.”

  “I didn’t think so. Okay. Now, with your little hole filled and exposed back here, I’m going to play with your plug and change vibrations. While I’m playing with your butt hole, you’re going to be writing me a letter — well, a plea would be more accurate. You’re going to write me a letter, pleading that I give you permission to masturbate. If I give you permission, I’m going to watch you — closely.”

  Garrett opened the kitchen drawer and gave her a pad of paper and a pen. “Don’t let me distract you, Missy. Write me the best letter you can write. I want you pleading and begging with everything you have.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Dear Lord. How am I supposed to write a letter like this? I think I’m going to die. Can I die of this? Yes, the answer has to be yes.

  Inga was so unsure of herself. She’d never been this off balance, unable to focus, or even think. She could feel though. That was it. She felt everything. Every breeze, touch, smell — she even swore she could taste her orgasm. Inside, she was shaking almost nonstop, though she managed to hide that from his keen, observing gaze. Despite all of that, despite her fear, and uncertainty, her pussy and clit still throbbed. She tried to calm herself with a deep breath, but she would do—

  “Oh, God. N-nuuuuh!”

  He’d turned up the vibrations, pushing and pulling the plug against her sphincter muscles, the vibrations making her pussy convulse and tighten in sympathy with her well-worked ass. Her womb clenched, making her hips thrust forward.

  She dropped her pen and clung to the edge of the counter with her eyes closed. “Christ! Gar—Master! I can ‘t do this.” Her voice broke. She felt broken. She needed to come and she’d do just about anything to make that happen. She tilted her hips a little, rocking forward, trying to rub her clit on the seat.