Fulfilling Her Fantasy (9 page)

"Baby,
it's not as though your sister is a fire-breathing dragon I have to slay. You
told me she was a sweetheart and I will love her, so why are you really so
nervous?"

"I,
uh, don't know why. I just want you to enjoy our vacation too."

And
another time:

"Is
it about the money? Is that why you are so nervous, baby?"

"Yes…
No… I mean, I know it is pricier than a lot of resorts, but I'm sure it will be
better than most. I mean, it's different. Good different. Or at least… I hope
you will think it is worth it."

Oh,
but it was going to be worth it. Brianny would pay for every single dime, or rather,
her ass was going to pay.

Kian
had had plenty of time for a crash course in domination earlier that afternoon,
since Bri seemed to have abandoned him. He hadn't gone to their room after they'd
been separated, but had instead been taken with the other Dominants to Wardrobe.
He'd left there dressed in a white silk shirt with ruffles around the sleeves
and chest, tall leather boots, and tight black pants. He'd opted to skip the
big black hat with the long, red feather, but he hadn't been able to talk the
perky little assistant in the dressing room out of the eyeliner to accent his
blue eyes and, perhaps, give him an air of suspense. A quick appraisal in the
mirror proved he didn't look nearly as stupid as he felt. Hell, he looked like
a blond version of Johnny Depp in
Pirates
of the Caribbean
.

With
a deep breath, he'd puffed up his chest and left the Wardrobe. Outside, he
immediately bumped into his future brother-in-law, Jackson. Kian had been
embarrassed as fuck to feel so clueless, so out of the loop.

Why
in the hell would Brianny have brought him here without giving him any warning
at all? He would have at least liked to stand on level ground next to her
family. The other man probably thought he was a pussy. He wasn't. He was a man,
for fuck's sake. A man born in the twentieth century, where treating women
delicately had been bred into him.

And
when Hayley… Fuck. He'd barely smacked her ass, and his ex had almost pressed
charges. It was a damn good thing he'd stopped at spanking her, and hadn't
caved to his darker desires.

You
never hit a girl, his mother had taught him from a tender age. Women's rights
were touted hither and yon. Spanking was for disobedience in children—actually,
no, you could hardly spank a child nowadays without someone shouting abuse.

Kian
had been spanked many times as a child. His single mother might have not seemed
like a powerhouse, but she had walloped him good on more than one occasion. Of
course he'd deserved everything she dished out and he knew it—and more
so, he knew she loved him and wanted the best for him.

That
hadn't worked with Hayley though. She didn't think of it as love or concern
when he'd busted her ass for drinking and driving. He'd loved her, and wanted a
future with her, but she'd flown the coop after that. He'd been kicking himself
ever since. Well, no, not really ever since. He'd seen her over the years, and wouldn't
have taken her back even if she begged—and she had. It was too late; he'd
already fallen in love with Brianny by then.

But
he did regret hurting Hayley; scaring her, using his size and strength against
her. The regret he felt added to his guilt—damn it, he must be a sick
person. He'd enjoyed spanking her—her squirming over his lap, his hand
falling on her plump bottom, seeing his pink handprint there on her milky white
ass.

He'd
felt like a sicko. Who enjoyed hurting someone like that? Now, all these years
later, and a world of people like himself opened up. He forced a dark image
from his mind. It wasn't the same as the kink there at the Castle. There was
kink… and then there was demented. He was just demented.

But
how had he never known that so many normal people were kinky; everyday people… doctors,
chefs, music teachers, for fuck's sake? Even that lady he'd seen today on a
spanking bench in the dungeon—if he'd seen her anywhere else, he would
have offered to carry her groceries and help her cross the street. She had to
be a grandmother, and she'd come here to be spanked, begged for it even.

He
wasn't a pussy for respecting women. And he wasn't a freak either for wanting
to have a woman over his lap, begging him to stop. Contrary to all his concerns,
his brother-in-law had pegged him right away, and took him under his wing.

"You
had no idea what kind of resort The Castle was, did you?" Jackson asked
with an easy smile. "You have a deer in the headlights kind of look. Let
me show you around. You can ask me anything you like, then I'm pretty sure
Marshall is going to want to meet you, too."

A
smaller man might have been intimidated by Jackson's size, but Kian wasn't a
lightweight either. Kian had been a grappler, a wrestling champion throughout
high school.

The
catcalls and bidding going on around him brought him back to the present. The
show must go on, and he couldn't leave Bri waiting all night. Kian took his
time, making his way through the crowd to the door of the cubicle Brianny had
disappeared into. Here, lights were on, and he could clearly see the red that
infused his fiancée's cheeks. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

Jasmine
danced away with her buyer when he tugged at the leash connected to her collar.
Their excitement fairly floated in the air, like the sound of the tinkling
bells adorning the princess's heels.

"Master
Brady." Smiling, a leather-clad Master with the name Parker on his chest
beckoned him over to a table set up not far from the cubicles. "How would
you like to pay for your slave today? Will you be using the method on file for
your stay?"

"Yes,
that is perfect. I heard you have leashes?" He hoped Bri, or Blossom, as
she'd chosen to be called here—she definitely wasn't the Bri he knew—could
hear him. He'd purposely stood in the opening of the section Bri was in,
wanting her to worry.

"Of
course, sir. We also have a small souvenir for the participants. Master Sam was
passing them out at the door. I see you don't have yours. I can give one to
you." The man held out the requested leash, and a small black velvet pouch.
"I have her information sheet for your perusal as well. Please take a look
at it before you leave with her."

"Thank
you." Kian tucked the paperwork and gift bag under his arm, then took the
short black leather leash and held it like a belt folded over itself. Trying it
out, he smacked his opposite hand with it. As he looked back toward the cubicle
his girl was in, Kian moved the slapping motion to his thigh.

"Would
you like to inspect your purchase before you leave?" Master Grimsley had a
very formal, serious stance and demeanor. That was why the amusement presenting
itself as a sparkle in his eyes tipped Kian toward another opportunity to teach
his girl a lesson.

"As
a matter of fact, I would like that very much."

It
was so exaggerated, he imagined he could hear her gulp as he watched her. She
met his eyes momentarily, but he was the one to look away first. He couldn't
help but glance at the black collar round her neck. She was fingering it as if
afraid to let it go. She looked scared—and flushed. Her cheeks were pink
and her eyes large, open much wider than normal. Her desire was like an
aphrodisiac, and it drew him in. His cock was pulsing… and harder than ever
before.

He
tossed the leash and bag in the chair in the corner and stepped toward her.

Available
Jan. 24
^th
, 2014 on Amazon, Barnes & Noble & Blushing Books
as part of the “Master’s of the Castle” Box Set, “When The Gavel Falls”

By Tabitha Black

Free
Preview

Chapter One

Her trembling hand made the
ice in her gin and tonic clink against the glass as Sylvia took such a large
gulp she almost choked on it. She wasn't normally a big drinker, but in light
of her current situation...

For the umpteenth time, she
stole a quick glance at the alarm clock beside the plain hotel bed, sighing as
she realised that she still had more than twelve hours in which to
contemplate—and try not to regret—what she was planning to do.

It had been a long flight
from Brisbane, Australia, to Ohio, and she had hoped that jet lag would hit her
fast, not giving her much of a chance to reflect. Unfortunately, she had slept
so much on both planes, lulled into that odd sense of twilight induced by hours
of perpetually dimmed lights, the hum of the engines, constantly running movies
and a Valium or two, that she was now wide awake at nine o'clock in the
evening.

The hotel was pleasant
enough, and the flights and immigration had passed without incident, but now
she was here. The point of no return was growing ever closer. Glancing at the
sheaf of paperwork lying in her lap, Sylvia sighed and bit her lip. She had
read every word a million times, and still she could hardly comprehend the
enormity of what she had signed up for.

What would Stephen say if he could see me now? If he knew what I'm
going to do, would he approve? More importantly, why do I still care whether he
would approve or not? It has been more than six months...

With an exasperated sigh,
she tossed the brochure in her lap aside and got up to pour herself another
drink, exorbitant mini bar prices be damned. Then she curled up on the still
neatly made bed, rummaged through her handbag for her address book, picked up
the phone and began to dial.

Rosa answered on the third
ring. "Hello?"

"Rosa, it's me,
Sylvia."

"Hey, sweetie! You made
it in one piece? How was the flight?"

"Fine, fine. Long, but
that was to be expected. How are you?"

"I'm great. Can't wait
to see you tomorrow," Rosa enthused.

"I can't wait to see
you either. It's the other stuff I'm worried about. Remind me again why I
agreed to do this, and how I let you talk me into it?"

Rosa chuckled, and Sylvia
couldn't help but smile at her friend's infectious enthusiasm.
"Well," she began, "you've just gone through a messy divorce,
right?"

"Right," Sylvia
confirmed.

"And you're all
heartbroken, your self-esteem is in the basement—in a nutshell, you
deserve to treat yourself, right?"

"Still with you so
far."

"So what better way to
treat yourself than to spend a couple of days with a gorgeous man who fancies
you so much that he's
paying
for you
to spend time with him? And who will be fulfilling your every fantasy to
boot?"

"Not to mention I'm paying
for my trip with some of the money I got from the settlement, so essentially,
my ex-husband is paying for my pleasure," Sylvia added.

"Exactly. And you'll
get to spend some time with your bestest friend in the whole world, whom you
almost never see because we live so far apart. So you tell me, sweet cheeks,
why wouldn't you agree to do it?"

"Do you want a list?
I've spent the last forty hours or so compiling one in my head," Sylvia
groaned.

"What's the worst thing
that could happen?"

"Hmm, where do I start?
I get purchased—I can't believe I'm even saying that word—by a
complete troll who revolts me. And I have to spend the entire two
days—and nights—with him."

"Highly unlikely.
Sweetie, we're talking about the Castle here. This is an amazing place and I
have it on good authority that all the Dominants who are bidding are wonderful
in their own special way. No trolls allowed."

"Hum. I'm very picky
when it comes to men," Sylvia said.

"I know that. But do
you trust me? Honey, I would never have suggested you take part in this auction
unless I thought it would do you the world of good." Rosa's enthusiasm was
hard to deny.

"And it's been ages
since I've played. Stephen tried, bless him, but he was never truly kinky...
not compared to me, anyway. I'm out of practice. It's been years since I was in
a real D/s relationship."

"Listen to me
Sylvia—are you listening?"

"Mm-hmm." Sylvia
took another great gulp of gin and tonic, and swore as some of it spilled down
her chin.

"Are you
drinking?"

"Yes. I figured I might
as well get a few in now, seeing as I'll be limited to one per day once I get
there. You know I don't indulge often, but sheesh, a couple of glasses of red
would do wonders to take the edge off. Why can't the maximum limit be three?
Huh?"

"You know why. Safety
and consent are the number one priority where you're going. Anyway, as I was
saying. D/s, BDSM, ageplay, all the facets of this wonderful kinky world we
inhabit... they're all ingrained in us, right?"

"Yep."

"If you're a lovely
person, you're always a lovely person, and whether or not you have the chance
to prove it is irrelevant, correct?"

"You're asking someone
who's just spent almost twenty-four hours on aeroplanes and in airports an
awful lot of questions," Sylvia grumbled. "Yes, I see where you're
going with this."

"Exactly. You are a
maso, honey, and you are naturally submissive. Being married to a vanilla guy
for years on end didn't change that. Your fantasies didn't change, did
they?"

"If anything, they got
more extreme, seeing as I wasn't getting any at home," she confessed.

"Well there you go
then. It's just like riding a bike. You'll see. And don't forget, I'm doing it
too," Rosa added conspiratorially.

"So how come you're not
worried? What if someone you really dislike wins the auction when you're up on
the block?"

"Easy." Rosa
giggled. "There's no-one at the Castle I dislike. No, seriously
though," she added, "this is for Don, so it's a wonderful cause
anyway. And I'm tired of being on this side of the Nursery. I want to indulge
myself for once."

"Fair enough. Promise
you'll meet me there?"

"Of course I will. I
can't wait to see you!"

Sylvia smiled. "Same
here."

"Oh, that reminds me,
have you chosen a name for the duration of your stay here? You know we're all
meant to remain anonymous."

"I have. It's actually
a nickname my first boyfriend gave me, due to the colour of my hair."

"Let me guess.
Silver?"

Sylvia chuckled. "Got
it in one."

"It suits you. Get used
to using it. You don't know who will be shouting your name this time
tomorrow."

"Gee, thanks, that's
very reassuring." Sylvia rolled her eyes.

"Listen, I've got to
go. Are you going to be okay getting here? I'm not going to have to drive out
and kidnap you am I?"

"No," Sylvia
sighed. "I might take another half Valium and see whether I can get some
sleep. And thanks Rosa. You've really helped reassure me."

"What are friends
for?"

Once she had said her
goodbyes to Rosa, it had taken about half an hour for Sylvia's fears to
resurface. She paced the hotel room in her bare feet, wishing, not for the
first time, that she still smoked. Every glance at the alarm clock confirmed
that time was indeed moving—albeit agonisingly slowly.

This is all Stephen's fault
, she thought furiously.
If he hadn't dumped me, I'd be... I'd be...
Where would she be? Still stuck in a house in the suburbs, in a marriage from
which the passion had long since evaporated, with a man who had become addicted
to his computer. How many hours, days, and weeks had he wasted staring at a
screen, talking to women all over the world rather than with the living,
breathing one who was in his house?

At first she'd been grateful
for the extra time alone—time she was able to spend reading the erotic
books she loved to devour late at night, where the men were strong, handsome
and brooked no nonsense. But eventually the novelty had begun to wear off, and
she wondered more and more why she, a young woman in her prime, was being
forced to read about deliciously hot and painful encounters rather than
experience them in the flesh, as it were. Any and all seduction attempts had
been ignored; Stephen had waved her aside even on the occasion where she had
gone to him naked, wearing nothing but his favourite perfume and a pair of high
heels. She had stopped trying after that.

Sylvia cast a longing glance
at the mini bar, wondering whether she ought to open another miniature bottle
of something strong. Then her gaze fell on her Valium bottle. Her doctor had
prescribed it to her for anxiety, but if she took more than one, it not only
helped calm her racing mind, but made her fall asleep.

Sod it
. She poured herself a glass of water, took two whole pills,
lay down on the bed and waited for blissful oblivion. She may not be tired, but
anything was better than spending the night pacing her hotel room, and she
wasn't entirely sure which train of thought was worse—going back over why
and how her marriage had ended, or wondering what the coming days were going to
bring...

* * * * *

Sunlight was streaming
through the hotel room blinds when Sylvia opened her eyes, moaning with dismay
when she realised that the moisture on her cheek was her own drool.
Girls in films always sleep beautifully
,
she thought ruefully,
you never see Kate
Hudson waking up in a puddle of her own spit. I hope whoever buys me tonight
doesn't want me to sleep over.
The sudden realisation of where she was made
her sit bolt upright, almost afraid to look at the large red digits on that
infernal clock on the night stand. When she did, she wished she hadn't. She had
exactly one hour to shower, dress, do her make-up, pack, check out of the hotel
and find the bus depot.

So frantic was Sylvia to get
ready in time to make the bus that she didn't have a moment spare to worry
about what would happen once she reached the infamous Castle resort. Nor had
she had time for a coffee, so she was especially delighted when she not only
arrived at the depot with ten minutes to spare, but noticed the Starbucks sign
across the road. Without thinking twice, she dashed over to the café, emerging
five minutes later armed with an extra-large cappuccino with one sugar.

The bus, when it arrived,
looked perfectly normal. Like any old bus, going to any old destination. And
the people boarding it looked perfectly normal as well. A few of them smiled
kindly at Sylvia, and even though she was usually painfully shy, she found
herself smiling back. Still, she was glad when she found a seat near the back
of the bus and was able to cower against the window, still clutching her
coffee, relieved beyond belief that no-one had actually tried to talk to her.

Rosa had told her that the
ride from the Granger bus station to the Castle was a short one, but to Sylvia
it felt entirely too short. Staring at the backs of the other passengers'
heads, she found herself wondering how many of them—if any—were
going to be up on the auction block themselves that very night. Or, God forbid,
would be bidding on her. That thought made her face hot, so she sank even
further down in the seat, trying ineffectually to concentrate on the beautiful
landscape.

Please, please
, she prayed silently,
let Rosa be there to meet me. Let me get through the next few days in
one piece and I promise I'll never, ever do anything this foolish again.

Even though her friend had
told her all about the Castle, Sylvia couldn't help but be awed by the enormous
medieval structure as the bus trundled up and came to a halt at the front gate.
Her nerves were temporarily forgotten as she gazed and gazed at the stone
edifice, trying to picture what Rosie had told her—that the entire
fifteenth century building had been disassembled stone by stone in Scotland,
then shipped to America and reassembled in the lush green Ohio countryside. She
simply couldn't imagine the scale of such a project, and her awe increased with
every step she took, following the others, first over the drawbridge—the
moat was filled with expensive Koi, she noticed—and then under the huge
wrought iron portcullis. It was like being transported back in time. Then
again, she supposed, that was the point.

Clutching her empty coffee
cup in one hand and her handbag in the other, she saw that all the other
passengers were veering to some tables set up on the left of the portcullis and
forming orderly queues, stacks of paperwork in their hands. This must be the
admissions process, she guessed, remembering what she had read in the
instructions she had received.

Sure enough, once it was her
turn, she was asked for her medical records and waiver. Rummaging through her
bag, she found the appropriate forms and put them on the table, receiving a new
envelope full of paperwork in return.

"Thank you," the
assistant said, with a friendly smile. "Please take your welcome pack and
make your way over to the dais—feel free to take a seat if there are any
spare. We're always frantically busy when it's a special event like this one.
You'll need to go back over your intake form and sign and initial everything.
Oh, and before I forget, are you taking part in tonight's auction?"

Sylvia nodded, too
overwhelmed to speak.

"Then you'll be needing
this." An additional cream envelope was handed to her. "Feel free to
put it on as soon as you get changed; this will help everyone who is bidding to
identify that you're up for sale. Have a wonderful time. Next!"

You are twenty-eight years old
, Sylvia told herself furiously.
You are not some tongue-tied teenage virgin
who's never gone to the dance. This is supposed to be your treat to yourself to
celebrate getting out of a stale marriage, so stop blushing and stammering and
bloody well enjoy yourself!