Mastering Inga (Service & Submission Book 2) (10 page)

“We
will
be doing just that if you can’t figure out how to behave this morning.” He looked at Inga. “We’ve been hitting a rough patch this morning. I hope your day gets better soon.”

Inga smiled and sat next to Madalyn. “If I tell you what I dreamed last night, will you tell me what you dreamed? I would love to hear.”

“Yes! I wanna tell you. I dreamed that—”

“Uh. Wait. I’ll tell you mine first, and then you can tell me yours. It’ll be so exciting. Are you ready?”

Wiping the tears from her little cheeks, Madalyn nodded, listening intently as Inga explained a dream about purple bears and unicorns with a magical princess and a castle. In the dream, the princess’ morning had not started well either, and she‘d put on the same exact outfit for the day as Madalyn had — but the rainbow on the front had magical powers to make her happy.

By the end of Inga’s story, Madalyn was practically jumping up and down in her need to tell Inga about her own dream. Liam was enthralled; he’d stopped throwing Cheerios over the high chair, and sat quietly, rapt, his mouth hanging open as he’d listened.

When story time was over, Inga rose from her kitchen chair and walked up to Garrett, putting a hand on his shoulder. “And that, Daddy, is how you distract children. Maybe I need a magical rainbow on my shirt also?”

She winked grabbing a coffee mug from the cupboard.

“Maybe you need a rainbow on your bottom to remind you how to speak to a certain someone in this house. Oh, wait. That’s right. You probably have the beginning of a rainbow on your backside from that belt last night. We’ll have to check on those later.” He quirked an eyebrow at her the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “If you continue to be sassy, I might have to add to your magical rainbow too.”

Before Inga could respond, a little voice was heard from the other side of the kitchen counter. “Daddy, are you making Miss Inga mad?”

“Angry?”

“Yes. Are you making her angry, Daddy?”

“Not intentionally. But yes, I might be. I’ll leave her alone for now. Who’s hungry? Daddy has some peanut butter and jelly toast here!”

Liam perked up and yelled from his high chair. “Me! Me, Daddy!”

“All right. Let’s eat. Miss Inga, will you please get us some juice?”

“Yes, Sir.”

* * *

B
reakfast had been finished, dishes were put away, and the children were watching Sesame Street. Garrett pulled her aside and told her that it was time for them to discuss some new rules as part of her submission training.

Sitting them both down at the kitchen table, he began. “I think we need to begin with some standard things for your training. However, with the children it does change how it’s done. Have you ever been in a submissive role in a house with children?”

“No, Sir. I’ve always had a relationship that wasn’t part of my nanny jobs.”

Garrett nodded. “What will occur is similar to a 1950s wife.” He wondered if there might be a better way to convey the concept to her, but decided simply explaining to her in plain English was the best bet, and hope the finer details didn’t get lost in translation. “Because the kids can’t give consent, they are
not
to be subjected to overt displays of submission, or dominance, or anything part of the BDSM realm. But, basic acts of subtle submission are acceptable. For example, in a Master/slave relationship a slave will often refer to their significant other or spouse as ‘Master’. I would expect the same thing as your Master. But with the children around, you’ll instead answer all questions with ‘Sir’, and address me as Sir, rather than Master. It’s normal in many families for the spouse and children to respond with ‘Sir’ when addressing their father or husband, so that should work fine. However, when the children are in bed or not present, you’ll call me ‘Master.’ Does that make sense?”

“Yes, Sir… Master. It does. It’ll be easy for me to remember it that way. I’m familiar with your 1950s culture.
Leave It to Beaver
,
Father Knows Best
, and the
Danny Thomas Show.
”

“Okay. Good. It helps that you’re familiar with them. I’d like you to wear dresses and thongs most days. If you’re leaving the house, you can put on regular panties. But as soon as you come home, you’ll get back into a dress; I want your bottom available to me sexually, or for a spanking. If you think there’s an activity that requires pants that day, you can ask permission. But you’re required to ask permission before you put them on. Clear?”

She paused, her lips pursed. “So, I’m basically relegated to the same position as Madalyn? I’ll get stuck wearing something I don’t want to wear some days.”

“No. That’s not what I said. You can choose any dress you want. If I have a problem with what you’ve picked out, I’ll let you know. But overall, I really only require that it be a dress. If you don’t like your dresses or wish to have more to meet my mandate, let me know, and I’ll give you some shopping money.”

He stopped and let her digest what he’d said before continuing.

“It’s very common for Masters to lay out clothes for their slaves every morning. They make all decisions for the slave. I, personally, don’t take it to that level. I just want your bottom available to me. If you break this rule, you’ll be punished. Understand? Or do you have any questions?”

“No, Ma-aster. I’ll comply.” She stared at her hands on the table, playing with her cuticles.

“It’ll get easier for you to say Master with practice. I promise. Now, for the next rule. I’ll text you in the evening, letting you know that I’m on my way home. You’re to greet me at the door — head bowed, arms clasped behind your back. If the children aren’t home, you’re to be kneeling near the door, eyes down, with your hands palm-up on your thighs. Okay?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Any slave of mine does not sit until instructed. Again, with the children around that will be modified. Instead, you’ll serve my food or drink, and I’ll nod my head in the direction of where you’re to sit — either the floor or a chair. If I’m giving you leeway, I’ll put two fingers on my thigh as a cue that you may sit wherever you like. In the evening, I would love to have you sit at my feet. I miss having a slave at my feet. I miss stroking her hair, enjoying her presence. The children are used to this too. Their mom loved sitting at my feet. So, typically, they would crawl into her lap and they would all sit at my feet. I’ll use the ASL sign for sit to let you know that you may sit at my feet.” He then showed her the sign by placing two fingers of his right hand on top of the two fingers of his left hand. “Any questions?”

“Am I ever allowed to sit with you on the couch?” She glanced at him from under thick eyelashes, her cheeks blushing fiercely.

Interesting

“Yes. Sometimes I’ll want you next to me, tucked into my side. You may not feel well or you may feel achy from play or your menstrual cycle. I’ll have you sit close to me so I can comfort you and keep an eye on you.” He reached across the table to hold her hand. “I’m not a harsh Master, I promise. If you’re uncomfortable or upset about anything, you can talk to me. I’ll listen to you — as long as it’s said in a respectful manner. The final decision is always mine as Master, but that doesn’t mean I won’t listen and change how I carry it out. Is that better?”

“Yes, Master. I just needed to know if… well, you know.”

“I do. I hope you feel better about it all.” Obviously, she had concerns, considering she’d never been a slave before. He’d have to remember that.

“I do, Master.”

“We touched on this one, but you’re not allowed to orgasm unless I’m present and have given you permission. Your orgasms belong to me now. They don’t come by anything you do, but what
I
do for you. If you break this rule, you’ll be punished with orgasm denial while several sex toys are used on you — and in you. Is that clear?”

Her mouth opened to argue, but then she closed it, dropping her gaze to the table. After a moment, she looked at him, glaring. “I use my toys daily. I’m not sure what I do in my room is part of this, is it? I mean — Master, am I required to follow these rules even in my quarters?”

“Nice catch. Kind of. I’ll let the insolence slide while we’re in the beginning of your training. It definitely bordered on sass though. I’m glad to hear you like toys so much. I like them too. I think we’ll be having some fun with them soon. But your orgasms do
not
belong to you anymore, Missy. You’ll ask permission before you come, and you will not use your hand or toy to come any longer. If a toy or hand is to be used, it’ll be mine. Or I’ll order you to masturbate for my enjoyment. Clear?” He dipped his chin, leveling a stern look in her direction. He was dead serious about this, and she needed to understand that.

“You never answered my question. I get it if we’re having sex — you want to be the one to make me come and you want me to ask permission. But do I have to follow these rules in my quarters?”

“Well, if I’m in your quarters the rules about how you’re dressed, sitting, and serving me would still apply. But if I’m not present — no matter where you are — you’re not allowed to orgasm.
Ever.
Questions?”

Her lips drew tight, and she stared at him in silence. He wasn’t going to cave to her pouting though. After all, he had a two year old and a four year old. They were the only ones who pouted in his house, and even then, he still didn’t cave. A grown woman would definitely not get him to cave. She’d find out soon enough that he wasn’t fazed in the least by pouting.

He decided to cajole her a little. “Talk to me, Inga. Tell me what you’re struggling with. What’s the biggest issue for you with this rule?”

She let out an exasperated, dramatic sigh. “I just… I like my toys. And I… it’s hard to say—”

“Just say it. I swear, I don’t think there’s anything that would shock me.”

“I… I
like
masturbating. It’s nice, and I know how to do it just right. I don’t want to wait for it, and I don’t want to explain to someone how to do it. I like being able to grab my toy and have an… orgasm, and you know, just move on.” She was unable to keep eye contact as she spoke the words.

He didn’t even try to hide his smile though, grinning at her until she lifted her gaze.

“Why are you laughing? Don’t laugh at me!” She started to rise.

“Sit. I’m not laughing at you. I just find it interesting that you like your toys and masturbating because you know how to do it quickly. I’m going to teach you how much you’ll love toys, and how much more pleasurable it is having it take forever to come. You’re going to love it so much more. But I’m going to stress this again — you won’t like the punishment for breaking this rule. You need to remember that the short term pleasure will
not
be worth it.”

“Yes, Master,” she grumbled. He wondered how seriously she really was taking all of this.

“Thank you for your agreement, Inga. If you break this rule, you’ll be punished. I’ll bring the kids to my mother’s house for the day to give us privacy. I need you to remember that not only will you be paddled, you’ll more than likely be writing lines and enduring orgasm denial for much longer than you’d like it to last. After all, it would be a punishment. I like orgasm denial for pleasure too, but this kind of denial would go way beyond that. I need to be sure you understand how seriously I take this issue.”

“I understand. I just don’t like it very much. Do—”

He tapped his forefinger on the top of her hand. “Master. Please say, Master.”

“I understand, Master. Do I have to like the rules?”

“No, you don’t have to like them, but ideally it’s easier to obey them if you not only understand them, but also agree with them. But your compliance with them is required, regardless of your distaste. Obedience is required, first and foremost.”

“Yes, Master. I’ll obey them, and I understand that there will be punishment for disobedience.”

Garrett took a deep breath lacing his fingers on the table. “Now, this last rule is only required at home — as most of them are. I require that you’re to keep your legs open — you aren’t to cross them or close them at any time if you’re sitting. I want you open to my view and touch at any time. When I look across the room, I love seeing your pussy, even if it’s covered by your panties. If the children are around or we have company, this rule will be suspended. But if I want a peek, I’ll signal you with two fingers pointing downward — like legs standing — and I’ll open my fingers, which means you’re to open your legs. I’ll nod to let you know that it was appreciated, and then you may close them again. Clear?”

“Wait. So, I’m to sit with my legs open like a
fladdermus?
”

“What? What is a ‘fladdermus’?”

“It’s a…
hora
— a whore. The translation is something like: ‘A pussy that flies around and fucks anything.’”

Garrett couldn’t hold back his laughter. “That’s hysterical! I think I’m going to be listening carefully when you speak in Swedish. It seems you have some colorful words when your ire is raised.”

He gave her an arch look, expecting a retort from her. When none was offered, he continued. “No. You would not be a fladdermus. But you would be a slave who wants to please her Master. And if her Master enjoys the sight of her pussy or panty-covered pussy, then her satisfaction and happiness is heightened by the gift of giving.”