Daddies of the Castle

by Adaline Raine

  Landon truly was a Master, Nayla thought dreamily, as the thick leather falls of the flogger thumped into her flesh with heavy, rhythmic strokes. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the sensation as he worked over both her ass and her shoulder blades, warming up her skin, heightening her awareness of every part of her body.

  So far, it barely hurt; the slightly harder strokes only caused a mild, pleasant sting. Shifting on her bare feet, she spread her knees a little further apart and arched her back, pushing her butt out in a silent plea for more.

  The flogger stopped striking her and there was a pause. Holding her breath, Nayla wondered what he would use on her next.

  She flinched when he prodded her back hole with a slippery finger.

  “I’m going to fuck you here, later,” he said huskily, “and this will help prepare you for it.”

  Something hard, cold and smooth replaced his fingertip and the next moment, she felt the intimate intrusion of a butt plug being inserted in her most private place. Forcing herself to relax, she let out a shaky sigh as he slid it home and twisted it.

  “That good, doll?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Already turned on just from being with him in this exciting setting, her arousal kicked up a notch as the sensation of her ass being filled only served to emphasize the empty ache in her pussy.

  “Don’t forget to breathe,” he warned a split second before a line of fire blazed across her buttocks.

  Nayla let out a howl and stamped her feet.

  “Keep still or I’ll restrain your ankles, too,” he warned.

  With some effort, Nayla managed to keep her feet on the ground for the next few strokes, focusing on the pain and the way it seemed to morph into pleasure as if by magic. She wasn’t entirely sure what implement he was using. It was too thin and whippy to be a cane, too sturdy to be a singletail. Perhaps a stock whip or quirt of some kind?

  A particularly cruel stroke across the backs of her thighs forced her up onto her toes with a screech.

  “Hush, sweetheart. The louder you scream, the harder I’ll go.”

  His whispered threat only served to arouse her more. Desperate to get some kind of friction on her clit, she clamped her thighs together, only to have him kick her feet apart with his booted foot.

  “Last warning, girl,” he growled. “Next time, I will put the cuffs on your ankles.”

  He didn’t give her time to respond before laying a series of swift, sharp lines across both her ass cheeks at the same time, the strokes so hard and fast, she didn’t even have time to draw breath.

  Just when the pain reached a crescendo she didn’t think she could tolerate one more second of, he stopped and slid a hand between her thighs. Nayla’s whole body shuddered at the sudden, intense pleasure.

  “You wanna come?” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck as his fingers moved across her clit with deft precision.

  “Please…”

  “Not yet.” He removed his hand and she stifled a groan of frustration.

  Something flat and hard whapped her right buttock and she hissed at the new sensation, yelping when her left cheek received the same treatment. Over and over, the paddle flattened her buttocks until the ache had spread to encompass her entire lower half, her sex thumping in time to his strokes.

  Nayla wanted to stay there forever, bound to the cross, surrendering to the sensations Landon was creating—that heady mix of pleasure and pain she was so addicted to.

  She wanted more… but from experience, she knew that it would never feel like enough.

  There was a pause. Then something unbelievably sharp scratched over the sore, swollen skin of her butt and she jumped. It felt like a knife but surely he wouldn’t be cutting her; not there, not now.

  “You like that?” he growled.

  “What is it?”

  “Finger claws.” One sharp scratch turned into ten in an instant as Landon raked the points down her back, over her ass, then back up again. It hurt so good.

  Nayla’s skin broke out in goosebumps as he dragged the claws down her sides and over her hips before reaching around and gripping her breasts, the points digging in painfully.

  She was truly floating now, her mind quiet, her whole world reduced to the insistent ache between her thighs and the sharp pain moving over her flesh.

  Something big and blunt probed her dripping pussy and she realized it was his cock, that he was maneuvering himself into position even as he massaged her breasts with his claw-tipped fingers. She wriggled to grant him easier access, arching her back and spreading her legs wider until he slid home with a groan.

  The scratching sensations over her taut nipples, his teeth in the side of her neck, and the way she was stretched to capacity by both the plug and his thick shaft all combined to put her on the brink and she heard herself begging, her voice sounding like it was coming from far away.

  “Please, Sir, oh… please, Sir, I’m going to—”

  “Come,” he growled, thrusting hard, and she obeyed instantly, gripping the chains attached to the cuffs in ecstasy, whimpering as her core clenched around him.

  “Good girl,” he murmured, nipping the side of her neck again, rolling his hips to wring every last ounce from her before sliding out of her.

  Nayla whimpered.

  “Patience, little one,” he said, then she felt him slide the plug in and out a couple times before removing it. Not a moment later, the head of his cock replaced the toy. “Relax and bear down. I’ll go slow.”

  He gripped her hips to steady her and she realized he had only removed the claws from one hand—the sharp points were digging into her skin on her left side as he began to push.

  “You have such a gorgeous ass,” he said, “I’ve wanted to fuck it since the first moment I saw you.”

  True to his word, he took his time, driving inch after agonizing inch of his rigid cock into her tight, most private hole until his pelvis met the sore flesh of her buttocks with a smack.

  Nayla had never been a huge fan of anal but now, as he began to slide in and out of her ass, his clawed hand scraping up and down her flank and his other hand reaching around to stroke her clit, she found herself back on the edge almost immediately.

  Landon thrust harder until he was ramming into her with brutal strokes, driving her higher and higher until she didn’t even have time to ask permission, she simply climaxed helplessly, his strumming fingers on her throbbing nub relentless… agonizing.

  With a roar, he came too, the claws scraping her shoulder as he pulled her down against him, his cock jerking deep inside her until he let out a ragged sigh and went still.

  “You’re a fucking revelation, you know that?” he said at length, withdrawing carefully.

  Nayla realized she didn’t even know whether he was wearing a condom—nor, strangely, did she care. She trusted him, though, and guessed he would be. “So are you.” She was still floating, reveling in the happy, calm state of mind a good session could invoke.

  “Stay there a moment,” he said, and she giggled.

  “Like I could go anywhere.” To illustrate her point, she rattled the chains on her cuffs.

  “Brat,” he said fondly.

  She had usually thought of that as a derogatory term, but for some reason, she liked it when he called her that.

  A short while later, he draped a blanket around her shoulders and unfastened her wrists before leading her to a conveniently placed mattress in the corner.

  They lay there for a while, her head resting on his chest, his fingers playing softly with her hair. As she listened to the steady, strong beat of his heart, Nayla couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so at peace.

  She didn’t ever want it to end.

  Too bad they had only four days left.

  Chapter 8

  L andon swiped his brow with his forearm, staring at but not seeing the digital display on the treadmill. Tomorrow was the big day. Nayla was going home. And he was dreading saying goodbye.


  For the better part of a week, he had spent almost every waking—and sleeping—moment with the fascinating woman, and it still didn’t feel like nearly enough time.

  He wanted more.

  Jabbing the button to increase the incline, he strode faster, his thigh muscles beginning to burn, his bad knee aching.

  They had settled into a routine, of sorts, and he had slowly introduced her to his way of doing things. To his astonishment, she had taken to most of his rules like a duck to water. She was careful to make healthy choices at mealtimes. Well, he corrected himself, healthier. She was drinking more water. She performed little tasks he set her without complaint. Wanting to get her to find a way to relax without depending on him, he had asked that she spend at least thirty minutes every afternoon coloring at the little desk in the corner of her room.

  While she had rolled her eyes at first, and muttered something about being ‘too old’ and it being ‘just for kids’, the coloring book she had scored during their trick or treat excursion actually contained some gorgeous pictures, and not even ten minutes in, her brow had been creased in concentration, her tongue clenched between her teeth as she worked to add bright, shimmering colors to the mandala. Stubborn little minx that she was, she wouldn’t admit how much she enjoyed it, but it was clear in the way she set about it without complaint when he told her to every afternoon. Even now, while he was in the gym, she was up in her room, finishing up a picture she had started yesterday.

  Landon smiled to himself.

  The mantra, too, had been easier than he’d anticipated. Every night, just before she fell asleep, he made her say a few lines he’d set her. Hearing her whisper them fervently in her sweet voice in the darkness made an indescribable warmth and pride settle around his heart.

  Of course, it hadn’t all been smooth sailing. The first time he’d left her alone to go down to the gym, he’d returned to find her on her laptop, so engrossed in whatever she was doing that she hadn’t even heard him come in.

  Until he’d bellowed and she’d fairly levitated off the bed. Guilt had made her defensive, and she’d given him a long, angry explanation, telling him that he didn’t understand what a vital role she played in her company, how demanding some of their clients were but that they paid so well, they had to be kept happy, and so on and so forth until Landon hadn’t even had the energy to punish her. Instead he’d reminded her that the rule had been for her benefit, to give her some time to relax, and maybe to realize that there was more to life than just work. “If anything ever happened to you, they’d be seeking your replacement before you were even in the ground,” he’d snapped angrily, and she’d simply stared at him with those huge green eyes, the color draining from her face.

  Unable to bear that expression of utter hurt, he’d yanked her into his arms and kissed the top of her head before apologizing.

  They hadn’t mentioned it again.

  Later, he’d wondered whether she’d let him catch her deliberately. After all, many submissives liked to break rules on purpose to garner a punishment, or to test their Dom’s strength—or both. But her absolute dedication to her job was unhealthy and, worse, didn’t seem to be giving her much satisfaction, if any.

  A heavy hand on his shoulder startled Landon out of his reverie and he turned his head to see Sam grinning at him. “So this is where you’ve been hiding! Should have guessed.”

  Turning off the treadmill, Landon picked up the towel he’d slung over the rail and wiped his face. “Hardly hiding,” he said. “Just making sure my knee doesn’t get stiff.”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t explain where you spend the remaining twenty-three hours in a day. Marshall got you working overtime?”

  “Actually, I’ve been with my new… assignment .” As he said it, Landon realized what a shitty descriptor that was for Nayla. Nor was client any better. She was so much more than that. He glanced around. “Do you have a few minutes? I could do with a chat.”

  “That bad, huh? Sure.” Sam followed him to the empty locker room and they both sat down on one of the benches.

  Landon cleared his throat, unsure how to begin. “How do you… keep from catching feelings?” he said at length.

  Sam raised a dark eyebrow. “Not sure I understand the question.”

  Shoving a hand through his hair, Landon sighed. “Nayla’s the first girl who’s been… assigned to me. As a client. And I find myself caring about her. More than I think I should. Is that normal? I mean, surely a Castle Master has to care about the people he looks after, but how do you tell the difference between that and… more? Fuck, I don’t know how to phrase any of this shit.” He turned to meet Sam’s gaze. “How did you know Hannah was different to the other girls you played with or fucked?”

  “Christ,” Sam said, shaking his head, his ponytail swishing. “That’s a tough one to answer. I just knew.”

  “Not very helpful. Maybe it’s because she’s my first. Maybe it’s because I don’t have anybody to compare her with. Shit, I don’t know.”

  Sam slung an arm around Landon’s shoulders. “Honestly, I think you’re putting too much weight on the whole ‘role’ thing. She’s not your first. Christ, you were married before! You’re not some teenager with his first girlfriend.”

  Landon suppressed a smile. The strange thing was, Nayla did make him feel that way sometimes.

  “Sure, we care about our clients the same way we care about anybody else,” Sam went on. “We want to ensure their safety, we want to make them happy—hell, if the chemistry is right, we want to fuck them! But that’s no different to any other girl we might pick up at a club. You’ve played with plenty of other women. If you feel differently about this one, then I say you should go with your gut.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m reading too much into everything. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t spent so much time with one woman since Janine left.”

  Sam shrugged. “Or maybe this girl is… the one.” He waggled his eyebrows and Landon rolled his eyes.

  “She’s leaving tomorrow,” he said. “So that will be that. She’ll go back to her uber-important career, and I’ll get assigned to the next one.”

  “This is Granger, not fucking Mars,” Sam said. “If it’s meant to be, things have a strange way of working out.”

  Landon barked out a short laugh. When it came to Nayla and how devoted she was to her job, no matter where she was, it might as well be Mars. “I guess,” he said. “Thanks, man.”

  Sam’s expression was serious again. “She’s really gotten under your skin,” he said slowly. “I have to meet this girl. Come join us for dinner tonight. In the Private Dining Room. Eight o’clock.”

  Landon considered. It was his last night with Nayla, but then, he’d hardly seen Sam since he’d arrived at the Castle. “All right,” he said at length. “But don’t go getting your hopes up or anything. Like I said, she’ll be on the bus tomorrow.”

  The mere thought made his heart ache. Sam was right. She really had gotten under his skin.

  And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  Nayla was so nervous, she was on the verge of actually trembling. When Landon had told her they’d be having dinner with his brother and Hannah, her first instinct had been to say no. It was their last evening together. She’d wanted to do something special, alone with Landon. But he’d seemed so excited at the prospect, and she was curious about seeing inside the so-called Masters’ Private Dining Room, a place off-limits to most guests. It would only be for an hour or two at most, she figured, and then they’d escape back to her room, or the Dungeon, or anywhere, really, as long as they were together.

  Once he’d returned from the gym, Landon had taken her to Wardrobe as well as the in-house salon, and she had to admit she looked amazing. The pale pink, gauzy, floor-length Grecian-style gown he’d chosen for her was fastened at one shoulder and hugged her body in all the right places. The no underwear rule was still in effect, but pink kitten heels and a rose gold bangl
e around her upper arm completed the outfit. Her red-blonde curls had been pinned up and filled with tiny pink rosebuds, and the makeup artist had worked wonders with bronze and black liner to make her eyes look huge. She felt like a Greek goddess.

  Landon, too, had dressed differently for a change—a Roman gladiator costume showed off his tanned muscles, and the wide cuffs on his wrists kept drawing her eyes to his sexy hands.

  “Is anybody else going to be there?” she asked, chewing her bottom lip as she followed him through the restaurant.

  “Probably. Relax, sweetie, you’re going to be fine. But that reminds me. Come here.” Dropping her hand, he tugged her towards him, then reached into his pocket. “Lift up the front of your dress.”

  Nayla stared at him. They were in the middle of the packed restaurant. There were people everywhere. “Here?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Releasing a shaky breath, she closed her eyes and did as he asked, lifting the hem to her knees.

  “Higher. Unless you want me to bend you over the nearest table and spank you right here, in front of everyone?”

  Biting back a retort—she’d probably prefer a spanking over being forced to come in full view of all the diners—she made herself obey and felt the whisper of cool air over her exposed sex.

  “Good girl. Keep your eyes closed.”

  “I don’t think I could open them right now even if you ordered me to.” Her face was on fire.

  With a dark chuckle, he slid a hand between her legs and she felt something slick and greasy being applied to her clit and labia a moment before the smell reached her nostrils.

  Tiger Balm.

  Once he’d deemed everything adequately coated—and she was quivering from his expert fingertips on her taut bud—he pressed a brief kiss to her lips. “You can let go now.”

  The hem of her dress slid back to the floor with a rustle, and she opened her eyes to see him grinning at her. “Recognize the smell?”

  “Yes, Sir. Tiger Balm.”

  His grin became wolfish. “Has it started yet?”