Mastering Inga (Service & Submission Book 2) (17 page)

“May.”

Color flooded Madalyn’s little cheeks. “May I ask her if I may make cookies?”

“Yes, you may ask her. Now go pack a bag with some toys for you and Liam. Like I said, we’ll come to get you two after your nap.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Then she ran off.

Garrett waited until his daughter had gone, then turned to Inga. “We’re going to be working on sitting. You are
not
supposed sit until I nod, giving you permission. As stated before, you’ll sit wherever I nod. If I have no preference as to where you sit, I’ll do the American Sign Language sign for ‘sit.’ Two fingers of one hand resting flat on top of two fingers of the other hand.” He showed her the ASL sign for sit. “When we’re sitting in the living room, you’re to sit at my feet. If I want you to sit on the couch next to me, I’ll pat the couch to let you know. Again, if you have a reason that prevents you from sitting on the floor or you’re uncomfortable or sick, let me know. I’m not a harsh Master.”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. I’ve been in trouble most of the day it seems.”

“You’re having a bad girl day for sure. I’m willing to give you a warning about sitting — this once. But if it happens again, you’ll be punished. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Next issue: the visa. I know you were afraid to tell me about the visa, and thought you could handle it yourself. I appreciate that. But as a slave, you’re to give me any and all of your issues. I handle everything. I’m supposed to be involved in every aspect of your life. I’m not a Master that wants to pick out clothes and panties and what you eat at every meal. I find that exhausting, personally. But I have several friends who love to handle those aspects of daily living for their beloved slave. It’s a gift they give to their slave. But I do require that I be involved in all decisions — bills, car issues, purchases, decisions regarding your career, daily schedules, and most definitely, I needed to know about your visa.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Garrett watched her. She beat herself up pretty good about things, always questioning her submission. She worried about how people perceived her. She desired to be a slave, but struggled with the depth of submission that might require. He’d work with her, taking her into the position of slave gradually, pushing her limits slowly.

“You said you knew you should’ve told me about this situation. How long did you know this?”

She dropped her eyes, looking at her hands, remorse written all over her face and in her slumping shoulders. “I knew as soon as I opened it. About three weeks ago. B-but when I tried to get my friend Hanna to get my documents, my safe broke and... I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you struggled on your own. You could’ve had asked me, but you chose to struggle on your own. Instead, you ignored that little voice — that one that’s usually right — for three weeks. Do you agree that you deserve to be punished?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Twenty-one days, Inga. Twenty-one days of disobedience. After I return from dropping the kids off, you’ll get twenty one licks from my belt. I know you’re sore and I’ll adjust the intensity because of that. But you need to be punished. I won’t be harsh, but you’ll be in tears when we finish. Then we’ll go get this paperwork figured out.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I want you naked and in position bent over the back of the couch in the living room. You’re to be thinking, that if given the chance, how you would’ve handled this differently.”

She nodded her head, tears filling her eyes. Garrett rose from the table, stroking the side of her face. “Missy, you’re fine. I’m pleased with you. Bad behavior needs to be punished. It doesn’t change my feelings for you or my plans to make you the best slave a Master can own. Understand?”

“Yes, Master. I needed to hear that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

Then he went to get the kids ready for Uncle Preston’s house.

Chapter Fifteen

Garrett walked into Preston’s house, the kids bounding into Avery’s open arms.

“I’m making cookies,” Avery said, with a smile. “Do you guys want to help me?”

She looked over to Garrett with raised eyebrows, silently asking for permission.

“Yes, they may make cookies,” Garrett said. “I don’t want them filled up with sugar, please.” He leveled a stern look her way. “Moderation, Avery!”

Garrett knew that Avery loved playing and tended to forget that the children’s little bodies couldn’t process the sugar as easily adults. Even with his admonishment fresh in mind, Garrett knew his children would be bouncing off the walls and leaping onto his back like little monkeys well into the night.

“Yes, Sir, I promise,” Avery said, giving Garrett a solemn — though subtly cheeky — nod Then she looked down at the children. “C’mon, let’s go! Daddy said yes!”

All three of them bounded off toward the kitchen.

Garrett turned to Preston. “How do you keep up with her?”

“It’s not easy, believe me,” Preston said, laughing. “Stern discipline and a lot of play.”

Garrett smiled at his brother, then sighed. “Do you have a few minutes to answer some legal questions regarding Inga’s visa? It appears that it’s expiring and we may need an extension. Or some sort of solution.

“Absolutely. Come into the den here, and we’ll figure this out. It should be pretty simple. These are the easy problems.

* * *

T
hey had determined a resolution more quickly than Garrett had dared hope. It was one that would benefit them all — and finally, he felt like he could breathe again. He’d been more tense about this than he’d realized. He couldn’t fathom losing Inga this soon since meeting her. They’d all come to rely on her, and she’d become an important part of their lives.

He walked into the living room and stared at the beautiful woman bent over the back of the couch, her long legs begging for his touch. He sauntered over, sliding his hand up a toned and muscled calf and thigh. Her leg twitched in anticipation. He continued upward to her pussy, sliding his finger through her slit, circling her clit, feeling it pulse under the pad of his fingertip.

“Mmmm, you appear to be throbbing and wet. Are you excited about your spanking, Miss Inga?”

“No, Master. I’m nervous.” She crossed and uncrossed her ankles, betraying her nervousness.

“Well, girlie, your cunt loves being nervous. You’re dripping with arousal.”

“I don’t know about that, Master.” She looked over her shoulder at him.

“Well, I’m telling you. I suppose it’s possible to be wetter, but if you were, it’d be dripping down your legs.” He sighed. “No sense in talking about this though. Let’s get your spanking done. It won’t take long and then we can get this paperwork figured out.”

He started undoing his belt, her body flinching at the sound of his buckle. Her buttocks clenched and unclenched. “Tell me, bad girl, what you did to cause this belting?”

“Uhm... I didn’t ask for help. I kept my visa a secret, and I didn’t give my problems to my Master.”

“Good girl. Yes, those are the issues. Like I said earlier, I know your bottom is sore.” Garrett stroked his hand over her buttocks, pressing on a couple bruised areas, gauging her sensitivity. “I’ll adjust how hard I strap your backside. But you’ll be in tears when it’s over. This is a punishment after all.”

“Yes, Master.” A little sob escaped on the last word.

He leaned over to get a closer look at her face. “Hey. It’s going to be okay. You’ll be sore, but you’ll survive. You know you should be spanked, right? Do you need to safe word?”

“No, Master. I don’t need to use my safe word. I deserve this. I just feel bad and I’m afraid.”

“There’s no need to be afraid, Missy. It’s just a spanking. It’ll be fast and efficient. Let’s get this over with. Talking only makes it worse.” He doubled the belt over palming the buckle.

He reminded himself that her lapse in judgment put his career — and family — at risk. Her desire to be a slave demanded that he punish her for leaving him out of her crisis. He inhaled a deep, cleansing breath swinging the belt against her bottom, starting slow and steady.

“You will not keep things to yourself. You’re to tell your Master when you’re in a crisis.”

He stopped, letting the pain settle in and giving her a chance to catch her breath. “Halfway through your punishment. Do you think you’ll tell me the next time something goes wrong in your life?”

“Oooooh. Yes, Master. I’ll tell you.”

“Eleven more. Turn your toes in, no clenching. You’re already bruised — I don’t want more bruising. Keep your hands on the cushions.”

“You’re important to me. What you do matters to me” He struck four times on the crest of her bottom trying to not overlap too much. As promised, he’d reduced the strength of each stroke, and he did his best to avoid areas that had bruises, although that wasn’t entirely possible.

“If you’re upset, I need to know. I need to know what is making you cry and keeping you up at night. You’re mine.”

The last four lashes were to the underside of her cheeks and upper thighs. She screeched and would’ve kicked out, but he’d been prepared for that, holding them down with one of his legs.

While he threaded his belt back on he watched her closely, her quiet sobbing tearing at his heart. She sounded so heartbroken; she was always so hard on herself for earning a punishment. This punishment was a necessary part of her training though. Knowing that, he’d still treated her with kid gloves today, caring for her and catering to her. She needed to know that she was treasured, that he was anything but brutal — even when she’d earned herself a bottom warming.

He walked up behind her, reaching out to rub her buttocks. She flinched and the skin on her bottom rippled at his touch. “It’s over, girlie. It’s all over. You have a clean slate.”

He continued to rub and caress her bottom, the flesh hot to the touch. She’d be sore for the rest of the day, no doubt about it.

“C’mon, Inga. Let’s get going to the Immigration Office so we can come home and take a nap before getting the kids.” He gently grasped her by the elbow, helping her off the couch.

His eyes focused on her breasts, watching them sway as she moved. God, she had great boobs. They were lush with, soft, silky, alabaster skin. The prominent peach-colored nipples were such a contrast with the milky white flesh. He couldn’t help himself any longer, cupping her left breast in his hand, pushing it upward so he could suck on her nipple. His tongue circled the point and then he opened his mouth to pull in the areola and surrounding flesh, nestling his nose into the soft upper flesh of her breast.

She smelled sweet, like honey and she needed the comfort of his touch.

He pulled away, admiring the moist peak, murmuring, “Such a pretty peach color — and as sweet as one too.”

She needs comfort, asshole!

He pulled her into his embrace. She had such a lithe body, tall and lanky but with a round, curvy ass and generous breasts. She rested her head on his shoulder, softly weeping once more.

“Hey. Hey, it’s all right.” He kissed her forehead and neck. “You’re such a good girl. We’ll get this all taken care of so you can stay with us. We don’t want you to leave. We want you to stay. After I dropped the children off at Preston and Avery’s house, my brother and I talked in detail about this issue, and I think we’ve got this figured out. It’s going to be fine, you’ll see. Trust me.”

He rubbed her back, sliding his hand down to cup a hot bottom cheek. He squeezed the injured flesh and heard her gasp. “Do you think this sore, naughty bottom will help you remember to share everything with me? Your schedule, your bills, your concerns, your frustrations? Everything and anything?”

“Yes, Master. I will. I promise. My
rumpa
is very sore.”

“Huh. So that’s where we got the word ‘rump.’ Yes, I can tell from looking at it, that your
rumpa
is going to be very sore today. I think I’ll have a very well-behaved nanny and slave in my house today.” He winked at her and patted her bottom. “Let’s get you dressed.”

Chapter Sixteen

I
nga had sat quietly and gingerly on the way to the Immigration Office. Her bottom had never been this sore. She’d remember to include him in everything from now on, probably more than he ever wanted. But she wasn’t going to take a chance like that again.

Once inside the Immigration Office, Garrett had walked up to the counter with her and explained her situation, holding out the letter she’d received in the mail. They’d been given a number and been told to wait. Why did Americans have such long lines no matter where they went? Obviously, they loved waiting in lines.

She’d opted to stand instead of sitting on the long wooden benches. However, when she stood behind him, attempting to make it seem like a subtle act of submission, he’d scowled at her and patted a spot on the bench next to him. When she still didn’t move, he quirked an eyebrow at her and casually gave her the ASL sign for ‘sit’. She knew she was in dangerous waters with him, so she quickly rounded the bench to sit next to him. She hissed quietly through her teeth as her sore bottom made contact with the bench.