Kaylee's Keeper (20 page)

CHAPTER TEN

“Hold up your arms.”

Trembling, Kaylee did as she was told. In nervous fascination, she watched as he slid a black leather sleeve over each arm in turn. Both sleeves were lined with buckles and closed at the end, leaving her hands fully enclosed in fingerless pockets. “Wh-what…?”

“Were you given permission to speak?”

His hands were never anything but calm, firm but not rough as he tightened down the buckles, securing the sleeves in place. His voice, however, was cool and detached. He was angry with her—her gut clenched in so hard it almost hurt—but really, how could she blame him? She had burst into his office as if she had the right, disrupting his scene with one client and cutting in front of two others. As if she was something special. As if she was his responsibility. As if she was just plain his.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, burning tears building in her eyes. “I really am. Please don’t be angry with me.”

His hands paused in the midst of tightening down the last buckle and he straightened slowly, then sighed again. It sounded heavy. It sounded even more disappointed than before. He left her there, returning the can of rice to the cupboard across the room.

Abandoned, knowing he was probably going to wash his hands of her entirely after this, Kaylee put her nose back into the corner. She leaned awkwardly, her balance precarious with her arms bound like this. Even that minor shift in weight made the granules of rice under her knees dig in like small boulders. She winced, but she stayed as she was and prayed this small show of obedience might somehow be enough to win her at least the chance to explain.

Could she explain? She didn’t know, only that she so badly wanted the opportunity to, and maybe her belated obedience worked because a moment later, Master Marshall was back at her side again.

“I did not tell you to put yourself back in the corner. I told you to kneel and to be quiet.”

Kaylee tipped awkward back onto her heels, the rice under her knees making her wince all over again. A soft crinkle of unwrapping paper almost made her look up, but she caught herself in time—uncertain whether that might further be breaking the rules—but he solved both the issue and her curiosity when he brought the unused bar of soap down to her level. Ivory, maybe. It was white.

Her mouth watered. Her stomach churned.

“Open,” he said, intractable.

Oh God…

Cringing, Kaylee allowed her lips to part.

Notes of real annoyance hung heavy on his words when he repeated, “Open. Your. Mouth.”

She opened her mouth as wide as it would go. Her reward was the chemical taste of that bar of soap as it was seated firmly between her jaws. She didn’t dare pull back, grimace or struggle, but all of those things were instinctive and none of them brought her reprieve.

“Bite,” Marshall said, holding the bar long enough for her to sink her teeth into it. Tears stung her eyes. She salivated, tasting nothing but soap as it spread back across her tongue, but she kept her jaw tight and held onto the bar.

It was terrible. She’d once fantasized about something kind of like this: herself, dressed like a high-school cheerleader, getting her mouth washed out for swearing right before some big, strong Daddy figure turned her across his knee, lifted the back of her little skirt, dropped her panties to her knees and spanked her bottom until she (in fantasy, at least) was kicking, sobbing and pleading for him to stop and (in real life) shuddering on the waves of finger-induced orgasm. This was nothing like that. She was drooling and she didn’t even care—anything was preferable to swallowing the awful taste creeping into every corner of her mouth.

Behind her, Master Marshall finished securing her hands, folding the sleeves up behind her back until each hand could have cupped the opposite elbow and her breasts were arching out as if in offering to the unappreciative wall.

“Now, let’s go over this one more time.” Master Marshall tapped at the stone directly in front of her nose. “You are to face this spot and you are to keep your mouth shut until I tell you otherwise. If I have to correct you again, the consequence will be more than just a mouthful of soap.”

He left her like that, arms bound up behind her and balanced precariously on a scattered bed of rice. It already felt like she was kneeling on jagged bits of gravel and the soap was just plain awful. Soon, she was fighting back tears and crying through her nose, which made each hitching gasp sound like sniveling.

Ignoring her, Master Marshall walked back to the door, ordered the two princesses to come inside, and then headed for his desk without waiting to see if they obeyed. As the girls filed quietly over the threshold, one must have glanced over at Kaylee. She giggled.

Two things happened then: humiliated, Kaylee flinched so far into the corner than her head bumped the cold stone walls; and, halfway to his desk, Master Marshall snapped back around and headed straight for them.

The giggles ceased every bit as abruptly; and Kaylee couldn’t help it, she stole a quick peek at them over her shoulder. She only thought she’d seen him angry before, but nothing compared with how he looked now, anger dark as thunderclouds on his face, silently staring down each princess in turn.

“She did it,” one whispered, pointing to her companion.

He didn’t care. “Take off your clothes. Both of you.”

When he started to move, Kaylee quickly faced the corner again. Her every nerve strained to listen as the whisper-soft sound of fancy gowns hastily being divested mixed with his stalking footsteps. The cupboard opened again. Leather restraints rustled, buckles clinked, paper unwrapped, and then the steady tromp of his shoes carried him back across the rug to the two women who now stood trying covering themselves with their hands. A woman groaned in dread, and the need to see for herself exactly what he was doing itched at Kaylee unbearably.

“But I didn’t laugh!” one protested, her voice high and whining.

“Open,” he snapped, every bit as intractable as he’d been with her but sounding much colder.

If Kaylee weren’t so miserable, she might have smiled at the stereo squeaks of distaste, muffled behind two brand new bars of Ivory soap.

“Turn and face my desk,” was the next command, followed by, “Spread your legs. Bend over and grab your ankles.”

Another shrill squeak of protest erupted into a series of increasingly louder cries, each growing more desperate until they were abruptly silenced by a single, open-handed clap.

“Hold your position,” Master Marshall said.

The second princess began whimpering, a sound that seemed to be equal mixtures humiliation and discomfort, rather than fear.

Kaylee so badly wanted to turn around and look, but just as desperately, she wanted not to get caught peeking again. Already the rice under her knees had gone from boulders to spikes. It was all she could do to hold her pose without wobbling. She didn’t know how much longer she was going to have to bear this punishment; the last thing she wanted to do was make it worse.

“If you feel like laughing now, by all means, indulge yourselves.” Finished with what he was doing, Master Marshall walked back to his desk. A few seconds later, Kaylee heard the sound of file folders being shuffled and opened, and pages being read through. There was no phone in the office nor did she hear him speak, but he must have signaled somehow because, within minutes, the door to his office opened and a dowdy maid poked her head into the room. Startled, Kaylee glanced at her once and then quickly snapped back to the corner.

“Sir?” the maid asked.

“Fetch Master Dominick for me, please.”

“Yes, sir.” As quickly as she had appeared, the maid ducked out and was gone again. For the longest time, silence reigned within the Master’s office.

The soapy taste was growing worse by the second. Kaylee could actually feel her saliva thickening with the slime forming on her tongue. It felt like forever (though in the back of her mind she knew it probably closer to five or six minutes) before a heavy knock rattled the office door.

“Enter,” Master Marshall called, and then to one of the princesses admonished, “I did not say you could rise. Get back in position. The two of you have caused enough trouble, now you’ll pay the price. And I don’t think it’s going to be to either of your liking.”

“Is it going to be to my liking?” Master Dominick asked, amused.

Being parallel to the door gave Kaylee a prime view of the man who entered. It was the Gaoler, the one who had scared her half to pieces with the threat of his bullwhip. Oh God, he was wearing it, coiled like a snake at his hip, and even without the gloom of the dungeon to darken him, dressed like this in all black leather, he was one scary individual. Especially when he turned to close the door behind him and his gaze lit on her. Kaylee snapped her eyes back to the corner, but not before she saw the spark of recognition in his eyes.

At his desk, Master Marshall heaved another deep sigh.

“Damn, it’s good being lord of the castle,” Master Dominick chuckled. “Certainly, the view is better up here than it is in the dungeon.”

“It can be,” Marshall agreed, without enthusiasm. “At the moment, I am too annoyed to enjoy it.”

“Please, oh please, tell me I am here to take some of this lovely annoyance off your hands.” The dungeon master moved toward the desk and out of her frame of sight. “Two little pink mouths stuffed with soap…two lily-white bottoms primed with ginger root and elevated for use…lovely, fresh canvases ready for painting.” He paused and one of the princesses mewed. “My, my….What a naughty girl you are. Your punishment has made you wet.”

“Her name is Angel,” Master Marshall supplied.

Angel’s mewling whimper was joined by her friend’s breathy gasp.

“And this one?” the Gaoler asked as the girls moaned in unison.

“Ms. Deville.”

“Also wet.” Master Dominick tasked. “Something should be done about that.”

“Do you think you can be bothered?” Master Marshall asked. “The girls requested no Dom be assigned to them. Against my better judgment I allowed it and that, apparently, was enough to reduce me in their minds from Master of the Castle to trained monkey. In the last three days, they have been sent to my office no less than five times. I’ll jump through their hoops no longer.”

“Let’s see how well they enjoy jumping through mine,” Master Dominick chuckled. “How long do I have them?”

“Until they’ve learned to behave. Failing that, until their bus departs on Monday. And I would consider it a personal favor if you would escort them to their assignments just as they are—no clothes, soap and ginger roots firmly in place. I want this to be a lesson they never forget.”

“It is, as always, my pleasure to be of service, Master Marshall.” Another dark rumble of laughter. “What about the little one in the corner? Is she mine as well?”

Kaylee snapped all the way around, her eyes huge, and planted her nose so firmly into the corner that she lost her balance and fell against the walls. Trying to regain her position was sheer agony on the rice.

If Master Marshall answered verbally, then she missed it. She held herself tense and still, barely breathing until Master Dominick tsked again. “Pity. Ah well, you’ve given me two new playthings. They’ll just have to keep me entertained all on their own, won’t you, girls? Stand up. Clasp your hands behind your backs and keep them there.”

A soft squeak was the only sound they made, and an instant later, all three appeared on the periphery of Kaylee’s sight. Master Dominick opened the door, dragging them along behind him. One wore her short hair in stubby little ponytails, the other had her longer hair twisted back in a single auburn braid; the whip-toting Gaoler had turned both into the leashes by which he led them out of the office and away.

The door clicked softly shut behind them, leaving the room suddenly very quiet. Her senses strained for the slightest hint of movement behind her, but all she could hear was her own soapy, snotty breathing.

The door opened again, and the same maid as before poked her head inside. “Yes, sir?”

“I’m done for the afternoon. Inform Master Sam that he is Master of the Castle for the rest of the day and redirect all further misbehaving recalcitrants into his, shall we say, tender, loving care.”

“Yes, sir.” She ducked back out and the door closed. Now they truly were alone. No more interruptions; no more distractions. Kaylee shivered.

It was almost a full minute before she heard the slight creak of his chair as he swiveled and stood. Unhurried, he crossed to her, squatting down just behind her, not touching though she could feel the heat of him at her back. She thought she felt a soft tug at her hair, as if he were toying with a lock, twining it around his finger perhaps.

“You may nod or shake your head in answer my questions, but you may not speak and you may not remove the soap from your mouth. Do you understand?”

Kaylee nodded. She sniffled softly, unsure how much longer she’d be able to stand the taste.

“You’re breathing all right now, I see.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t wait for her to answer. He reached around her to lay his open hand on her chest, measuring for himself the steadiness of her heartbeat. “Are you feeling better?”

She nodded.

“All right, then.” His hand stroked up over her shoulder, patting once before descending down her spine and falling away. “Stand up. Let’s go wash out your mouth.”

Relief flooded her. She had to catch herself from making a sound. Mumbling thank you around the soap would probably get her another minute or two of drooling bubbles, and she was embarrassed enough as it was at her inability to prevent him from seeing the mess she’d made all down the front of her.

His hand hooked under her arms, holding her steady while she struggled to rise. Her knees screamed the entire way. Rocking back on the seemingly boulder-sized rice was nothing short of sheer agony and all her efforts at being quiet were shattered by pain-filled gasps. The heat at her back became the very real warmth of his chest as he pulled her against him. It was a supporting hold, helping her stay upright while her legs fought the pain to straighten and stand. It felt so very possessive too, but maybe that was only because she wanted it to be that way.