Kaylee's Keeper (7 page)

“What are you, Kaylee?” he demanded, and she wept, her body more charged and alive than ever she had felt it before.

“I—” She began to cry and she didn’t even know why. “I’m a b-bad girl.”

“Bad girls need to be spanked, don’t they?”

“Yes!” she gasped.

“On their bottoms and their thighs?”

“Yes!”

His hold on her clit tightened first, then began to rub, a full-on assault that had her grinding helplessly in response. “They need to have their pretty little pussies slapped, don’t they?”

She groaned, “Yes!”

“Are you going to get down on your knees when I let you go? Are you going to swallow every drop and show Daddy you know how to be good, or is Daddy going to have to bend you over the couch and punish you in other ways?”

“I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” So close. She was so very close. Her body tensed, shivering and spasming, locking down on the tiny, erotic shocks that sparked beneath his fingers and shot up through her sex to burst inside her womb.

“Get up.”

When he released her, Kaylee scrambled to obey. She’d have hit her knees at a look, but he released her wrist only to catch the back of her neck. The next thing she knew, she was being marched—awkwardly tripping on her puddled clothing—into the nearest corner.

“Hands on the wall,” he said, and her body singing with unappeased arousal, she obeyed. “Do not move from this spot.”

He left her there, her bottom blazing and on bright pink display, so aroused that her legs felt like rubber and it was all she could do to keep her palms pressed flat against the cool castle stones.

Master Marshall returned to his desk. She heard the creak of his chair as he sat down and began to write. One minute passed into two. Her arousal dimmed into frustration, leaving her on the verge of tears. She squeezed her thighs, wishing she was brave enough to take her hands off the wall long enough to bring back the lust.

Behind her, she heard the chair creak as Master Marshall stood again. A cupboard door opened, then closed, and then he was crossing the room again, coming quietly up behind her. Kaylee trembled in response, that familiar surge rising hard in anticipation of his touch. A folded piece of paper came into her field of vision even as the heat of him brushed at her back. She lifted two fingers off the wall, making it easier for him to slip the note into her grasp.

“This is your change of wardrobe and new scenario. We are going to leave Judy in the dungeon with the fantasy that did not work. Your new name is Sarah, and this one I think will be much more to your liking.”

She closed her eyes when she felt his arm slid around her waist, closing that scant inch of distance between them as he pulled her back into his embrace.

“Hands on the wall,” he told her, burning her stomach with his palms. He caressed her, one hand moving down between her shivering thighs, the other rising to slip in under her shirt, gliding up over her ribs until he found the cloth barrier of her bra. Found and dismissed it, slipping his fingers under the bottom band and pushing that miscellaneous undergarment out of his way. He left it, a wrinkle of useless cloth still wrapped around her upper chest with her trembling breasts bared to him beneath. “You will not cum before I say.”

His warm breath caressed her ear and, as if only she needed the suggestion breathed back into her, just that fast Kaylee was back on the edge. All sturdiness melted out of her legs when he cupped between them, sliding his fingers into her moist heat. His hand burned her breast, squeezing and kneading her soft flesh, stroking and plucking at her nipples until they stood stiff and aching for his attention.

She laid her head upon his shoulder, her bottom pushing back against him, finding the unmistakable bulge of his erection and grinding down upon it. With both hands, he teased her, the caress of one bringing her right up onto her tiptoes, the plucking pinch of the other trying to drop her to her knees. He took her right to the edge, stroking until her whole body burned and shook, until she could feel her orgasm nipping at her, growing teeth with which to punish her the longer she tried to obey him and deny it.

“Please, sir,” she begged.

His grip on her nipple became gently crueler. His fingers assaulted her clit, driving her ruthlessly to the brink. “Do you think you deserve to cum?”

She blushed furiously. “No.”

She never heard the knock at the door. All her attention was locked on the mercy of his touch and the amusement in his voice. “I’ll reward your honesty. Cum for me. Right now or not at all.”

If not for him, she’d have fallen to her knees with the wracking force of her orgasm. She caught a gasping breath and held it, arching back to seize his shoulders, unable to make herself let go while her limbs shook and stars sparked and died behind her eyes. Bliss receded slowly, leaving her trembling in his arms, feeling as if she were drifting, lapped by waves of such weary contentment that it was a wonder her legs could support her at all.

The pinch of his fingers freeing her nipple, Master Marshall released her breast. With one last petting stroke, he pulled his other hand from between her legs. His fingers glistened, painted slick with her moisture. He brought them to his mouth, tasted her briefly on the tip of his tongue and rumbled his approval.

“Open,” he commanded, bringing his fingers to her lips. The taste of herself was something she had never thought about before. Part of her knew she should be repulsed, but she obeyed when he ordered it and opened her mouth. “Suck.”

She cleaned every last drop of herself from his fingers—her whole body shivering—until all she could taste as she licked and flicked at him with her tongue was him.

“Good girl,” he soothed, taking his hand away. He tugged a stray wisp of long brown hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear and then tilting up her chin so as to better see her. Whatever he read from her expression must have satisfied him because he nodded once and then went to answer the door. “Abigail,” he greeted, stepping back to admit a woman in a long black gown. Though she had not been among the servants in the courtyard, there was no forgetting that costume or the austere back bun, coiled at the nape of her unadorned neck. She looked exactly like the other governesses who had led the majority of her fellow vacationers, Selena included, away into the castle.

“This is Sarah,” Master Marshall introduced, beckoning for her to come to them.

“A naughty Sarah, I see,” Abigail answered, hands folded over her trim waist.

God, her pants and panties were still tangled around her ankles.

Dropping, Kaylee quickly jerked them both up at once, wincing at the unexpected sensitivity that turned the cotton of her underwear into coarse sandpaper when it scraped up over her bottom. That slight touch rekindled the heat from her spanking, something her jeans amplified when she tried to fasten herself back into them. Her expression must have bordered on ridiculous because, though they didn’t laugh at her, both master and governess began to smile.

“She’ll need a change in wardrobe,” he said, reaching for her arm to remove the black bracelet, replacing it with a pink one, “and a gentle hand until she gets a feel for the nursery.”

Nursery? Kaylee snapped her eyes to his.

“In the hands of an experienced Daddy, I do believe you are going to blossom. Unfortunately, we have a shortage of those at the moment. But governesses abound and—if you’re very naughty—a communal Daddy will step in to put you back into place. Or, depending on how old you feel, we could send you to private school. Regardless of your inner age, I know we can keep you entertained.”

“Uh,” Kaylee said, but Master Marshall had already taken her by the hand and, in a motion that felt very much as if he were passing over all responsibility, he placed her into the governess’s care. As an adult might a child prone to wandering in public places, Abigail took firm hold of Kaylee’s wrist.

“Wardrobe first,” Master Marshall reminded, “a new bracelet, a fresh run-down of the rules, and a gentle—” he gave Kaylee a Look so authoritative that her knees tried to melt, “—but not too gentle hand.”

“Of course.” Abigail turned toward the door, tugging Kaylee along behind her. “Come along, little miss. Master Marshall is a busy man and you’ve taken up quite enough of his time with all your disagreeable behavior.”

Kaylee opened her mouth to object, to shake her head, to say ‘wait’, but Master Marshall gave her a light smack on the bottom to get her moving and she fell into reluctant step behind Abigail. Once across the threshold she looked back, but already his door was closing and he had turned away.

Her fingers began to fidget in the hem of her shirt and a strange tightness settled in her chest. She let herself be pulled along by the governess.

“What a very lucky little girl you are,” Abigail told her as they headed together down the hall, away from the curving staircase and the castle Master’s office, down into the far right-hand wing where a dark pair of double doors stood sentry beneath a long wooden sign. It was engraved with bunnies and lambs and cheery meadow flowers in a rainbow array of pastel colors. The sign read, ‘Nursery’ and Kaylee’s feet almost balked when she passed under it.

Her chest was getting tighter by the step. She felt…almost scared, though she didn’t know why.

She could do this. It was just a fantasy, like all her naughty teenager daydreams. How many times had she envisioned herself standing guiltily before a disapproving paternal-type figure? From bad report cards and tardy slips, to smoking and drinking, staying out too late and getting caught doing naughty things with boys—these had been some of her favorite fantasies for years. Heck, half her spanking books at home had to do with misbehaving schoolgirls dancing bare-bottomed and wailing across a father-figure’s knee, taught not just to the lick of a fresh-cut switch but to Daddy’s belt, or hairbrush, or wooden spoon and darn near every domestic implement she could think of in between.

This was the vacation of a lifetime, her chance to live out all her favorite spanking scenarios in a safe, sane and consensual play place. And if the communal Daddy or the teachers in the Castle’s "private school" were anything at all like Master Marshall, then she was going to have a lot of fun doing it. This was her chance to be as spoiled and rotten in ways she’d never dreamed of when she was actually younger. She could sass and be flippant with her elders. She could cut school and get bad grades, pick fights and go to all the wrong parties, and actually look forward to being caught. And if she had to start every morning for the next three days by bending over the foot of her dormitory bed for yet another lesson in proper conduct for young ladies, than this really would be the best vacation of her life!

She
could
do this.

Kaylee closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was twenty-six going on an unruly and completely inappropriate sixteen, and she could definitely do this.

CHAPTER FOUR

There was no way in hell she could do this.

Kaylee stood in the open doorway of the nursery, her bright pink bracelet on her wrist, her school bag clutched like a shield against her chest and the feeling that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life growing inside her chest.

Her jeans were gone. So was her t-shirt and sneakers, taken from her by the two ladies who ran the Castle Wardrobe—a room so thoroughly dedicated to such a wide assortment of costumes that Hollywood just had to have them on speed dial. They had entire sections devoted to both Renaissance and Victorian gear. They had movie and comic book wings—Twilight, Lord of the Rings, and more super hero and super villain outfits than you’d find at any given Norwescon. She had stood in the center of it all for a long time, trying to puzzle out why anyone would want to dress up as Batman just to get their ass spanked by the Joker (and wouldn’t it make more sense the other way around?) when one of the ladies took her arm and led her off into a side room.

There, adult-sized baby clothes and schoolgirl outfits had abounded. There were nappies and pinafores, ruffled panties and Mary Jane shiny black and silver-buckled shoes. There were good baby-girl clothes and slutty baby-girl clothes. Extremely authentic-looking catholic-style school uniforms mingled with anything but regulation uniforms, and when one of each was lifted down off the racks, Kaylee unerringly pointed to the authentic one. Her reflection in the dressing mirrors melted through three progressive shades of red. There was no way she could have made it out of Wardrobe without proving the existence of spontaneous human combustion had she tried to wear the sexier outfit.

She strongly suspected she might also have looked ridiculous.

“Very nice,” Abigail had said, approving her uniform choice when Kaylee stopped at the door to pick up her complimentary backpack of school books.

“Thanks.” Kaylee turned, but it wasn’t until she’d caught a glimpse of herself in a dressing mirror—red plaid skirt, white short-sleeved blouse, knee socks and oxford brown shoes—that she realized just how good she really did look. She paused, admiring the girlish effect. The Wardrobe lady had even done her hair, brushing and parting her shoulder-length brown locks before tying them back behind her ears in twin pigtails. For a moment, as she stood staring at her reflection, she really was twenty-six going on a very young and fantasy-oriented sixteen.

With a final, “We’ll have a change of outfit brought to your room later tonight,” Kaylee had then been hustled out the door and now, here she was.

The Castle Nursery was sunny and bright. The walls were white plaster instead of dour stone, with cartoon bunny caricatures romping among their forestland friends on grassy hilltops that wrapped the gymnasium-sized main room. Many doors led off into smaller rooms that might have offered privacy were it not for the windows that allowed observers to peek at all that went on if the curtains weren’t drawn. There were napping rooms with mats spread out on the floor, private bedrooms with adult-sized cribs or racecars or gauzy, lacy princess beds.  Toys for all ages spread out all over the floor.