Authors: Maren Smith
His hot breath caressed her ear. “The next time I tell you to face the corner, are you going to do it?”
Kaylee nodded, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t quite believe you. Especially since you weren’t able to obey even while kneeling on the rice, or did you think I somehow failed to notice all the times you kept peeking back at me?”
Bowing her head, Kaylee stood with tears rolling down her face, not knowing how to answer that with the only two options he’d allowed her.
Icy blue eyes assessing her, Marshall fished into his jacket pocket before reaching over her shoulder. It took her a moment to realize it was her collar, the one she had just removed a few hours ago, dangling from his fingertips. “I am going to give you the choice of putting this on, Ms. Waters, without fear of any recrimination if you’d rather not. But if you choose to wear it, I am not going to be lenient with you and you are not going to have a good afternoon.”
The most gut-churning longing unraveled deep inside her. She stared until the collar began to blur and twin tears slipped from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She nodded.
“Do you remember the rules from yesterday?”
Again, she nodded.
He put the collar around her neck, fixing it firmly into place, before taking her by the ear—a hold that brought her right up onto her toes in an effort to alleviate the pinch. He dragged her into the adjoining bathroom.
Larger than any office bathroom needed to be, it held not only the prerequisite toilet and sink, but a full shower big enough to occupy two or even three people at once and with restraint rings affixed to the back wall, just like in his private apartment.
Master Marshall took her straight to the sink. He let go of her ear to catch firm hold of her hair and bent her over, putting her face directly above the bowl before taking the bar of soap.
“Open,” he said, and she was only too happy to comply. Soapy strands of drool poured from her slack mouth.
“Ugh,” she panted, trying hard to be quiet and yet unable to bite that back. Her whole body shuddered with the need to spit.
“Tell me what happened.” Dropping the soap into the garbage, he twisted the cold water on. “Were you working with Mr. Grimsley, Cook or were you taken to the Rainbow Room?”
Beginning to tremble now that she could see an end to the soap ordeal, Kaylee watched him fill a small disposable cup with cool water. “Rainbow Room,” she said, trying to move her tongue as little as possible so she wouldn’t have to taste any part of her mouth.
“I see you have two demerits pinned to your corset.” He brought the cup to her lips and held it for her. “Sip and swish, then spit.”
She did, half a dozen times. The soapy flavor did not magically disappear out of her mouth, but though she could still taste bits of soap clinging to her teeth, at least she wasn’t breathing bubbles any more.
“What happened in the Rainbow Room?”
She had no idea how to explain. Alan hadn’t done anything wrong. She had been there to get her demerits worked off; he had approached her for exactly that. He hadn’t been pushy. She could have said no, but she hadn’t. She’d said yes, and then she’d freaked out.
Head bowed, feeling truly foolish, Kaylee avoided his eyes in the vanity mirror. “It…it wasn’t anything, really.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he said, frowning. “You did not come running all the way up here, wild-eyed and panicked, over nothing. I asked you a question and I expect an honest answer.”
She gazed at the bubbles in the bottom of the sink until, with another sigh, he caught her chin and forced her eyes to him.
“What,” he demanded, “happened?”
“Nothing!” She tried to pull out of his grip and managed to escape, but only because he allowed it.
Annoyance tightening his features, Master Marshall bent to fetch the bar of soap back out of the trash can. He dropped it in the sink and then opened the vanity and pulled out a brand new toothbrush.
“I’m not lying!” she cried as he, without a word, popped it out of its plastic wrapping. “It
was
nothing! Just a stupid little thing!” She tried to back up, but he caught a fistful of her hair and pulled her bodily right back up to the sink.
“Move from this spot again,” he warned, “and I will paddle you.”
“But I was just being stupid!” And then she really did start to cry because instead of stopping, he picked up the soap, turned the water on and wet both the bar and toothbrush under the stream.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered, working a lather into the bristles.
Kaylee bounced in place, truly not wanting to obey. Already the taste dominated every cringing bud on her tongue. There was no part of her mouth that didn’t already taste sudsy and awful.
She cried harder, her shoulders jerking in spasms, but when he caught her jaw, she also opened for him. He scrubbed the entire interior of her mouth—her tongue, her palate, her teeth and gums, and the insides of both cheeks. He was pitiless and all Kaylee could do was stand there, alternating between gagging and sobbing.
“Spit,” he told her and, miserable, she did. Wetting the toothbrush again, he picked up the soap to lather it a second time. Then he confronted her, the brush held ready in his hand, ready for round two if she backed him into that corner. “Did someone approach you?”
“Yes,” Kaylee whimpered. “Please may I spit?”
His frown deepened and his eyes sparked. “Yes, what?”
She bounced again, her whole body shuddered under the effects of the chemical warfare waging across her taste buds. “Yes, sir. Please…please may I spit?”
Laying the toothbrush on the edge of the sink, he filled the disposable cup with fresh water and fed it to her in gulping sips. She swished and spat frantically, over and over until he took the cup away.
She gasped and sniffled, with soap and saliva dripping down her chin and her hands bound, leaving her no way to wipe it off. The mirror was as heartless as he was; Kaylee was not a pretty crier. Her eyes were red, her nose was running, and her face was flushed an uncomely shade of pink. She bowed her head so she wouldn’t have to look at herself.
“Who approached you, pet?” Master Marshall pressed, his tone firm but not unkind.
Kaylee sniffed hard, needing to blow her nose. “He said his name was Alan. Sir, m-may I p-please have a tissue?”
He swiped two tissues from the box on the shelf above the toilet. Cupping her chin, he made her look at him while he wiped the tears from her cheeks and then held the tissues to her nose. “Blow.”
Embarrassment burned through her. She blew.
He wiped her nose, tossed the used wad into the garbage and tugged two more from the box. “Blow,” he said again, holding them up to her.
At least, she could breathe now without sniveling.
“Did he want to help you work off your demerits?” Master Marshall asked, gently steering the conversation as he threw those tissues into the garbage as well.
Kaylee nodded.
“I want to hear you say the words out loud.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“What did he want?”
A full shudder ran the length of her body. Her breath hitched and caught in the back of her throat.
His gaze sharpened on her, missing nothing. “What did he ask you to do?”
“H-he was very nice,” she hedged.
“That doesn’t answer my question. Avoiding the truth is the same as lying. Do I need to soap your mouth again?”
If she could have got her hands free, she’d have clapped them over her tightly pressed lips. Her eyes teared and she shook her head.
“Answer the—”
“He wanted to touch me—m-massage me—with a…a spur sort of thing.”
He studied her, his expression shifting toward something vaguely puzzled. “Is that it?”
Kaylee shuddered all over again. It was almost a full minute before she shook her head.
His head tipped, confusion turning wary. “What else did he want?”
She trembled. She tried to back away, but he hooked two fingers into the soft valley between her breasts, gripping her corset and pulling her back up to the sink.
“What else did he want, Kaylee?” This time he used the Tone, the one that washed over her like a soothing balm, strong and sure. The one that promised to protect and yet which also promised he would brook no further defiance, so stop pushing.
She was going to cry again. She fought the need back, whispering, “He w-wanted to shock m-me with the Hitachi w-wand.”
Master Marshall studied her, his face unreadable apart from a single slight buckling of his eyebrows. “Do you remember exactly what he said?”
Shaking and shaking, Kaylee tried to think.
“Shh, it’s okay.” He stroked her with his hands. She could feel one burning through her corset into her hip, and the other, caressing in and out between her breasts. “It’s all right. You’re safe in my house and you’re safe with me, I promise. If you don’t remember everything, then tell me what you do remember.”
“He said h-he wanted me to…to take off my clothes and lie down while he used the Hitachi wand and the spur.”
“Did he say specifically ‘Hitachi’ wand?”
Kaylee had to think before she nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Kaylee, honey, was the violet wand in use while you were there?”
Kaylee shuddered all over and so hard that it made her knees wobble and dip. She tried to shy from him, but his arm came around her waist, both holding and supporting her.
“Slow your breathing, baby. In…there’s a good girl…now out. In.” He breathed with her, holding her both with his arms and his eyes. “Out. Just like that. Come here.”
She turned from the mirror, thinking he meant to hug her, but he only took hold of her bound arms and led her from the bathroom.
“There are many different kinds of wands.” He walked her back to the open cupboard. Closing the upper doors, he pulled out one of the lower drawers. “Music conductors use one kind of wand; magicians, another. Even vacuum cleaners have extensions called wands, and all of these have very different functions. Violet wands are one type used in BDSM play, and in this same vein, the Hitachi wand is another type—one that you are, in fact, quite familiar with.”
He pulled one out, unraveling the cord and showing it to her. It looked almost exactly like the vibrator he had used on her last night, strapping it around her hips so the round ball end was positioned right against her clit, preventing her escape. Remembering how he had forced her to grind and ride on it while he’d thrust into her from behind, Kaylee turned a slow, hot shade of red. When he held it up for her to see, there, in tiny letters by the on/off button, were the words: Hitachi Magic Wand.
“It—” A slow, uncomfortable clenching sensation began to wind through her gut. “—it doesn’t shock?”
“No.” He replaced the device back in the drawer and pushed it shut, opening instead the next drawer up. “And this evil looking implement is called a Wartenberg wheel. Is this what Master Alan wanted to massage you with?”
Kaylee looked at the metal device he withdrew: a small pinwheel-like spoke attached to a palm-sized handle. “His was a little different,” she admitted. “But yes, that’s very close to the one he had.”
“It looks much worse than it is.” He reached for her, plucking at the lacings of her corset to free her breasts. When he cupped one and raised the device, she flinched, but he only circled her nipple, letting her feel the spokes. The first pass was very light. Her breasts tingled with unexpected arousal, her nipples budding into eager peaks, which Marshall then cut across with the Wartenberg wheel, applying increasing pressure until it felt as if he were sticking pins in her soft flesh.
She gasped and tried to shrug out of his grip, but he did not release her. He bent instead, engulfing the first taut nipple in the welcoming heat of his mouth. He teased her, first with his lips and tongue, then suckled fiercely—tugging and pulling so deeply that she could feel the effects all the way down in the molten fire of her belly. It ended with his teeth, scraping, nibbling, releasing.
Breathless, Kaylee trembled when he let her go. Replacing the Wartenberg wheel back in its drawer, he closed the cupboard and propped himself against it, arms folded across his chest. He looked at her.
“Tell me,” he said, not unkindly. “What did Master Alan say when you told him you were afraid?”
Kaylee looked first at his folded arms and then at the floor. She felt very stupid. “I…I didn’t.”
“What did he say when you said your safeword?”
She shook her head.
“That’s not an answer, pet. I want to hear you say the words.”
“I didn’t say my safeword.” The admission tasted almost as bad as the soap still clinging to her teeth.
“What did he say when you told him you didn’t want to do the things he was asking of you?”
Kaylee turned her face as far from him as she could without actually turning away. She struggled to breathe without crying, already so horribly ashamed she didn’t think she could bear to add to it. “I…I didn’t say that either.”
“No?” He didn’t sound surprised. Nor did he sound as if he were upset with her. In fact, he sounded painstakingly neutral. “Look at me, young lady.”
She didn’t want to. With everything inside of her, she didn’t want to have to look at him. If he was disappointed in her, she didn’t want to have to see it.
“Tell me what he said to you.”
Haltingly, she turned back to meet his gaze. “That I was safe.”
“Did you believe him?”
Kaylee nodded, whispering, “Yes.”
“Tell me what you said to him.” Soft spoken, gentle even—a command, nonetheless.
Kaylee wanted to melt into the floor and just disappear. “I said I’d be right back,” she confessed, her guilt compounding with every word he was pulling from her.
“And then you came to me.”
It wasn’t a question, but she answered it anyway. “Yes, sir.”
He studied her. Silent. Assessing. “You’re not a Little Maid, Kaylee. Do you know what you are?”
She had never felt so utterly rejected in her life. “A failure?”
“No, never that.” He pushed off the cupboard, bridging that handful of steps that separated them. He cupped her breasts, lightly pinching her nipples once before dropping them to pluck at her laces. She watched in unhappy defeat as he began to strip the maid’s uniform from her body. “The fault is mine. I suspected last night. By this morning, I should have known.”