by Maren Smith
“It’s beautiful!” Kaylee traced the lovely scrollwork with her fingertips, accepting the gown as he held it up to her shoulders. “Is this for my next scenario?”
“Tomorrow is soon enough for that.”
She smoothed the fabric down over her waist and around her hips, turning into the light just to see the decorative gold threads sparkle and shine. “What about tonight?”
He watched her, the softness of his smile beginning to change into something a little more intense. “Tonight I thought you might like to have dinner with me.”
Her heart fluttered a funny little dance and she quickly looked away, afraid he might somehow be able to see it.
“Sure,” she breathed, and then just had to laugh at herself. One would think she’d never been asked to dinner before. And really, he was probably doing it to be nice because she’d had such a crummy first day. She cracked a joke, knowing she had to put it all into perspective before she started jumping to all kinds of crazy, mouth-watering, heart-palpitating conclusions. “One would think you’ve seen enough of me for one day.”
“Oh, I could stand to see more.”
And there it went again, her heart skipping a beat. The warm honey of his tone pulled at her; the easy authority in his smile ensnared her, robbing her of the strength and will to breathe. She tried to cover her sudden discomfit with another laugh, but it came out sounding strangled. She had to force herself to look away again, but it didn’t last. When he spoke, his next question drew her unerringly back to him.
“Do you know what I’d dearly love to see you wear?”
Her hands on the brocade gown trembled. “What?” She sounded breathless.
Though his gaze never left hers, his hand dipped into his pocket. He pulled out a collar and held it up for her to see—a thin strip of black leather with a leash ring at the front and a buckle made to clasp behind her neck.
Kaylee stared at it, unable to find a single feminist bone of objection anywhere inside her.
“Have you ever worn one before today?” he asked, moving toward her.
“No.” There was no sound to the word. She tried to shake her head but, unable to take her eyes off the collar, only managed half a turn.
“One night,” he offered, his voice a dark seduction. “This isn’t a love match. It’s just you and me. I lead, you follow.”
She hugged the dress to her, as if it somehow magically held the power to protect her. From what, temptation? Drowning? She wanted to laugh. She could barely make herself breathe.
“One night,” he said again, offering her the collar, but making no move to put it on her.
She wanted to take it, but her shaky hands refused to move. “What do you want me to do?”
“Submit.” One word, simply and irrevocably stated.
She was trembling, in her hands, in her legs. All over. Not out of fear—no, that would probably come later when she had a chance to actually think about what she was committing to. And to whom. Right now, all she could feel was the thrill, snapping in and out of her like lightning.
“To what?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know.
A corner of his mouth curled. “Everything.”
Her voice became a tight squeak. “Everything, everything?”
Those angel blue eyes turned dark and knowing. “Yes.”
She tried to swallow but her mouth had gone completely dry. “As in…” She couldn’t quite make herself say it.
He took pity on her. “As in, from the moment I slip this around your neck until tomorrow morning when I take it off again. In between those two points in time, I intend to take you to dinner, and get to know you over great lengths of stimulating and probably excessive conversation, and when I feel the moment is right, not only do I intend to take you to my bed, but I am going to tie you there and devour you one very slow inch at a time. That is what I mean by everything.”
And there it was, all neatly spelled out for her in scintillating verbal detail.
“Okay.” Her head spun. Her entire body vibrated with the need to feel what he was promising. Kaylee had never had a one-night stand before, but in all of her fantasies, spanking and sex had gone inextricably hand-in-hand. From the moment she started filling out The Castle’s online application, she had known she would submit to the sexual desires of whomever she was matched to. Master Marshall wasn’t her match. He wasn’t her Mr. Right. He was simply a very intoxicating, very convenient and very real Mr. Right Now.
“One night,” he offered.
“No strings attached,” she added, letting him know she understood completely. As he had said, this wasn’t a love match and she didn’t expect it to magically turn into that just because he slept with her. This was just a fantasy, one that would, for a very short time, merge with reality.
He slipped the collar around her neck and she actually felt the electric thrill as his fingers brushed her skin. He fastened it, not too tight, definitely not loose. She had never been so aware of any one piece of clothing before, not the way she was of this.
Master Marshall took the dress from her trembling hands and let it fall onto the settee. “Hands at your sides.”
The collar hummed against her skin. Kaylee obeyed, lowering her eyes, following the path his hands took as he began to unbutton her costume blouse. Without a word, he caressed the cloth off her shoulders and let it drop, a discarded flag of surrender that fluttered down around her feet, leaving her clothed only in her bra, schoolgirl shoes and socks, and that collar. Kaylee shivered, though not because she was cold. The air was cool, true—it was a castle after—but the contrasting warmth of his hand as he laid his palm flat upon her chest seared her skin.
He stood quietly, as if reading whole conversations in the heightened beating of her heart, and then his hand began to move. It travelled down her chest, brushing the bare swells of each breast in turn, caressing a burning path to her right shoulder where he pushed the thin strap down her arm to her elbow. It took little more than a caress to free her small breast from her bra and when he cupped her, it filled his palm, the pink tip stiffening under each stroking pass of his thumb.
He did the same to her left, slipping the strap from her shoulder, baring her other breast before catching the tip and rolling it gently between his fingers. “Very pretty,” he mused. “Not too big, not too small.”
Great, she had just become the Goldilocks of boobs. Kaylee had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her giggles in check. “Thank you.”
Releasing her breast, he gave the half-off bra a tug. “Remove this. Your socks and shoes, too. I want you bare before me.”
While Kaylee slipped out of her clothes, he returned to his desk. Drawers slid open and shut again, and then she heard the sound of stiff plastic packaging being cut open. Folding everything neatly and placing them on the couch, she glanced back in time to see him prying a belt and harness, complete with attachment—a thick, hot pink phallus no longer than the length of her thumb—from its wrapping. Admittedly, hers was an uneducated eye. She could count on one hand the number of adult toy stores she’d ever frequented and still have four fingers left unoccupied. But in this day and age, between TV and the Internet, one would almost have to be an idiot not to recognize a vibrator when one saw it.
“Is…is that a…strap-on?”
Pausing in the midst of inserting batteries into the cordless controller, Master Marshall looked at her. He cocked an eyebrow and, though he never lost his smile, it was a stern Look if she ever saw one. “I don’t need a strap-on to fuck you. Nor am I giving you one with which to fuck me. In this relationship, there is but one penetrator, and you are looking at him.”
“Sorry.” Frankly though, she was more relieved than apologetic. “Um…what is that for, then?”
“It’s for me to use however I wish.” He finished putting the batteries into the controller and snapped the backing back into place. “Come here.” Picking up the harness, he held the short pink phallus in one hand while he tested the
controller. The mechanical buzzing could be heard all the way across the room, altering in pitch as he tested the different speeds and vibrations against his hand. She could feel those vibrations all the way across the room.
Her heart quickened. She touched his collar on her neck, quivering with both excitement and uncertainty as she took those tender steps that closed the distance between them.
Sitting, he pulled her to stand between his knees while he fastened the harness belt around her waist. She could feel the tap of a loose strap dangling along the crease of her buttocks.
“Spread your legs,” he directed, reaching in between them to catch the end and pulled it back through to her front. While she watched, her fingers tapping nervously at her thighs, he threaded the base of the pink phallus onto it. Unlike with a strap-on, he positioned the false penis inward, sliding it back between her legs until she felt it—both the cool silicone and his fingers—brushing up against her labia.
“Hands behind your head,” he told her.
Kaylee laced her fingers tightly and locked her thumbs in her hair. Her nipples began to swell. Her breaths caught, hitching in a chest that suddenly felt too tight to accommodate them.
“I’m not going to need any lubrication to slide this up inside you, am I?” he asked, pausing now to capture her in his gaze. “The way your pretty pink nipples are begging to be suckled, I’ll bet my fingers find your pussy tight and hot and just as wet as wet can be. Isn’t that right?” Holding the vibrator against her quivering labia, he reached between her legs.
Her eyes closed. Kaylee made no sound, just a soft expulsion of air that escaped her rounding lips when he touched her, cupping and stroking.
“Do you want my fingers inside you?”
Her legs trembled and her knees dipped, weakening as he skimmed along her folds.
“You are to answer when I ask you questions,” he admonished, his feather-soft caress yielding to a single spank, just hard enough to make her jump.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, embarrassment ravaging her on heated waves.
“Yes, sir, what?” His thumb came to rest on her clit, pressing firmly upon it. He shifted his fingers, so wet now from playing along her labia that they slipped and rolled like silk in endless slow circles around and around her pulsing clitoris. “What do you want? Do you want me to fuck you?”
She struggled to keep each shaky breath from panting out of her. She locked her teeth against the moans that kept rising up to choke her throat. She barely kept herself standing straight and her hips from grind down on him in a rolling cadence that matched what he was doing to her. Oh God, she could hear the slick licking sounds as his fingers moved through moisture. It was so loud, so mortifying. She tried to twist away but her body was rooted in place, shaky all over, so desperate for his touch that tickles of moisture began to drip down her thighs. “Yes,” she whispered.
He spanked her pussy again, a stinging slap made all the worse for sounding so wet. “Look at me.”
She dragged her pleading eyes back to his.
“What do you want, Kaylee? I want to hear you say it. Shall I fuck you with my fingers, hm? Shall I make you ride my hand until you cum so hard you fucking gush? You like that word, don’t you, pet? I can feel your pussy tighten each time I say it: fuck.” His voice dropped, sexy and low. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want…to be…fucked.”
Her shaky breaths caught as he whispered it hot against her ear. Tiny, electric sparks shivered up through her sex and burst within her shuddering womb.
“Daddy’s little fuck toy,” he murmured, silken and hot, his smile no longer that of a friend but of a predator. “Master’s filthy cock whore. Say it.”
Her mew of dismay made his smile grow. Hot and wet, his fingers slipped through her folds in search of her clit and that back and forth silken glide was taken over by the cool silicone head of the vibrator. It warmed to her skin with every stroke, growing slicker with every teasing circle.
“Say it,” he coaxed as her flinching hips began to rock in time. “Say it. Say, I…am…”
His eyes never wavered from hers; his fingers rolled and rolled.
Her breath shuddered out of her. “Master’s f-filthy little cock whore.”
He pushed the vibrator into her, but it was only just deep enough to invade, not to satisfy. “You may not cum,” he reminded, and then he clicked the controller on.
Kaylee came arching up onto her toes, her eyes flying open wide, launched in an instant right to the razor’s edge of disobedience, where succumbing meant ecstasy and depravation cut like knives.
His fingers abandoned her, delivering that first painful slice while he strapped the vibrator into place and the second, even more devastating, when he clicked the controller off again. Every muscle in her belly, pussy and thighs screamed at the loss. It was all she could do not to fall masturbating right here in front of him.
“Kneel,” he said, and she hit her knees. “Pretty as you are, pet, if you want to cum on my cock, that’s a privilege you’re going to have to earn. Do you think you’re capable?”
Every nerve aching and raw, she knew the words he wanted and, heaven help her, she said them. “Yes, sir.”
Slowly, he smiled again. “We’ll see.”
* * * * *
Ten minutes after dinner was over, Kaylee couldn’t for the life of her say what she’d eaten. Of all the topics they’d discussed and all the questions he’d asked—where she went to school, what she did for a living, was she ever spanked as a kid, when did she know irrefutably that this was the life for her—she remembered very little. What she did know and could remember with breath-taking clarity was that he turned that damn vibrator on thirteen times during the course of the meal. It had four speeds and seven vibrating modes ranging from fast and high to low-humming throbs that curled her toes and left her gripping the edge of the table with the effort it took not to cum.
She remembered both times he ordered her to come to the head of the private table they shared and raise her long skirts so he could check her harness. She remembered his tightening the straps so completely that she could barely walk and sitting felt as if she were being bisected. She remembered with absolute clarity standing with skirts held high around her waist, while his fingers skimmed back and forth along the strap that cut through her labia folds and two male ‘servants’ unexpectedly arrived to clear away the remnants of their meal. And she absolutely remembered that peculiar mixture of excitement and shame that consumed her as she held that pose while Master Marshall called both men closer.
“What do you think?” he’d asked. “Is this not one of the most beautiful pussies you’ve yet seen?”
“Yes, sir, it is,” the first man replied. Was he a client or Castle employee—she just couldn’t tell. He stood stiff and proper in his butler’s uniform, hands clasped behind his back and dark eyes fixed unwaveringly on Master Marshall’s hand as he caressed her aching sex.When he took his touch away, his fingers came up glistening in the candlelight. “Taste.”
Humiliation blazed her, broken as it was by the thrill and wonder she felt when the man bent to obey, without hesitation taking two of Master Marshall’s fingers into his mouth. She felt the pull as he sucked those fingers clean all the way down to her womb.
A golden-haired devil, Master Marshall never took his angel-blue eyes off her. “What do you think?”
“I think I could make a meal of her, sir,” the servant answered.
Her knees weakened when Master Marshall slipped his fingers back inside her, pressing to get in under the strap and bringing her panting up onto her toes as he thrust them repeatedly. Withdrawing, he offered the second servant a taste. “Delicious,” was the response.
“I think so, too.” Leaning back in his chair, Master Marshall regarded her with that knowing smile. “Tell me,” he addressed the first butler. “If I ordered you to your knees right now and told you to eat her pussy until she came screaming, would you do it?”
Oh
God. Her hands twitched, twisting slightly in the folds of her dress.
Hands clasped behind his back, the butler watched her with very hungry eyes. “Without hesitation, sir.”
The piercing blue of Master Marshall’s eyes bored into her. “What do you think, pet? How many times would he need to make you cum before this nasty habit you have of hiding your physical reactions cracked and you actually did scream your orgasm, hm?”
Her hands shook. Her legs shook. She might, in fact, be shaking everywhere, and she had no idea how to answer him. She started to open her mouth, to say what? I don’t know? She wasn’t sure, but he didn’t seem inclined to wait for an answer.
“We could make a game of it,” he mused. “His objective will be to make you cum; you, of course, having been forbidden to cum, will have to deny it for as long as you can, and the loser will be whomever fails. Being the exceedingly generous soul that I am, not only will I put no time restrictions on this whatsoever, but I’m going to allow him all kinds of liberties. Fingers, tongue, one hand or two.”
“Thank you, sir,” the first man said, the first hints of a growing erection beginning to swell the front of his pants.
Master Marshall looked at her, eyebrow arching expectantly.
“Th-thank you, sir,” she stammered, and then sucked a sharp gasp because she hadn’t realized his hand had slipped into his pocket until he once again turned the vibrator on. That low hum rocketed through her, intensifying the shaking in her legs until it was all she could do to remain upright.
“Hands,” he reminded her, and Kaylee—already fighting to heave herself back from the brink of the forbidden—dragged the folds of her dress back up again and baring her glistening, quivering sex once more. Her hips and thighs twitched helplessly.
“So, what penalty should our losing party be forced to pay?” Pushing out of his chair, Master Marshall came to her. His hand caressed her soft abdomen, feeling the tension as her muscles spasmed. She fought not to give in to the kick of the vibrator as he turned up the frequency. He circled behind her, his fingers skimming around her hip while the heat of his breath caressed the nape of her neck. “What’s the point of playing if there isn’t some kind of risk? What do you think, pet? Shall I bring the loser back to my office, bend her bare-assed across my desk and strap her until she’s howling? Can you guess who I think the loser is going to be?”