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

He lifted the belt again, and this time he focused on a different spot, working his way from the crest of her bottom down to mid-thigh. Her hips wiggled frantically and if he hadn’t braced her tightly between his calves, she would've bolted like a scalded cat.

“Hold still, bad girl. You're going to take this punishment. You asked for this. You purposefully disobeyed your rule. Purposefully ignored your inner voice that told you stop, didn't you?”

“Oh, God! Yes, Master!”

“Oh God, is right.” He struck over and over, the belt leaving long red marks upon her flesh. Soon, it was time to stop. She’d been well and truly punished.

“You won't use your phone again, will you?”

“No. No, Master.”

He scooped her up, her long legs dangling over his arm, and he carried her to the bed. He gently laid her down, holding her until she calmed down.

She struggled to sit up. “Let me service your cock, Master.”

“No, slave. You're forgiven, no service is required. You'll please me most if you lie down and rest.” He tended to her needs — washing her face, putting lotion on her bottom, and rocking her until she fell asleep in his arms.

Garrett sighed, happy and content. When Anne was in his harms he could face anything. With his loving wife — and slave — at his feet, the world made sense.

“I'll never let you go girl. He whispered to his slumbering wife, softly kissing her temple. “Not as long as I live.”

Four months later she was gone.

Chapter One

One year later...

H
eartache.

How do you adjust to the death of your wife, and raise two toddlers alone? He wasn’t sure what the answer to that question was, but he knew that he had to do something. His house was a mess. It had been eight months since Anne had died, and he knew that he needed to get his life back together again. Keeping up with the kids, daycare, his job, laundry, cooking and cleaning had him exhausted; there weren’t enough hours in the day, not to mention the paralyzing grief that still overtook him from time to time. When that grief threatened to pull him under once more, he’d look at their babies. Madalyn was four, Liam just turned two — and he would see his sweet Anne in both of them.

It eased the pain somewhat. It gave him the strength to get through one more day.

But he knew he couldn’t do it alone anymore. He needed to a live-in nanny, cook, cleaner, bottle washer, dog washer and whatever else she could do. He needed her to come rescue him — and his babies — fast!

His family and friends told him to move forward and start dating. He knew he should think about it, but he needed to get things organized for his children — and himself — first. He missed the arms of a woman around him at night. He even missed the cold toes being jammed between his calves. He longed to feel the weight of a breast in his hand, falling asleep while kneading it; and he missed being surrounded by the smell of perfume, lotion and the scent of woman’s sexual arousal in his nostrils. He missed a woman —
period.
He missed someone to love, and someone who would make a house feel, well, homey.

He longed to come home to the smell of a roast in the oven and candles burning. God, how he longed to smell that again. He remembered a time when he’d hated those damn candles burning; he’d been so afraid the damned things would burn their house down. Looking back though, he’d come to like arriving home to the smell of pumpkin pie or sugar cookies — even if the scent was merely a candle. He missed those little things.

Garrett longed to have a woman sitting at his feet, or, better yet, a woman naked, kissing his feet with her ass in the air, waiting for the crop or his cock. He ached for those things. Anne loved submitting. As his slave, there were many nights that she would greet him naked, offering her body up for his pleasure in whichever way he ordered.

He missed having a woman collared and leashed at the dinner table, or corner, or bed — or, for that matter, anywhere. He missed a soft woman on his lap, or over it, the jiggle of lush flesh under his hand as he paddled her bottom, and the pleasure of having warm, moist sex before falling asleep.

Yes, he needed a woman.

All in due time.

Right now, he needed a nanny — and a clean house.

He wiped the tears from his face, steeling himself for another day. Today he would write an ad for a nanny. Things were going to change in his house — and soon.

* * *

G
arrett sat down to write an ad for a live-in nanny and cleaner. Someone he worked with had told him about an agency that connected clients with services contracted out by European nannies. He had looked into nannies locally and wasn’t overly impressed. They all seemed too young and immature. He wanted someone who was more wiser, steadier, someone who had enough experience to run a household with two toddlers.

Wanted: Experienced, mature, live-in Nanny, cook, and cleaner for a recently-widowed father and surgeon, age thirty-six with two toddlers, ages four and two.

Two references from previous employers within the past ten years will be expected. Nanny will be required to submit to finger printing and a background check. It is expected that the nanny will be responsible, mature, flexible, kind (yet firm), organized, and above all, sensitive and compassionate.

Garrett sat back, staring at his laptop. He didn’t know how to put into words that every day was a struggle to simply get out of bed. He wanted to put in the ad that if it wasn’t for his children, he probably wouldn’t even have left the house. He wanted to say that he needed someone to come to his house to add a spark of life, even if that person was a stranger.

They desperately needed a change in their home, and by the looks of the house in its current state, a bomb might be the only solution.

He had about an hour before Madalyn would be awake. It wouldn't be enough time to get the dishes done and clean up the kitchen though. It was just like every other day — too much to do, and not nearly enough time to do it.

That night, while the children watched a movie, he‘d gathered the laundry and vacuumed, bone tired in both body and soul.

He hoped that the nanny service would bring help quickly.

* * *

I
nga sat on her bed brushing her hair. The agency had sent her an ad from a widowed surgeon in the States who had been looking for a nanny, preferably a European nanny to live in his house, care for his two toddlers, and take care of the running of the house. She picked up the pictures of him with the children, the property, and her living quarters. Mr. Anderson with his brown curly hair and green eyes, appeared younger than his thirty-six years.. He had laugh lines, which was always a good sign. But upon closer inspection, she could see the vertical lines between his eyebrows, something that made her picture a man concentrating, studying, being serious.

She focused on his laugh lines. She liked to laugh and play, and she needed someone who would appreciate that. He appeared to be around six feet tall, slender, but muscular. The paper said he was a hand surgeon. He appeared to be laughing in the picture, and looking at the warmth in his gaze, she wondered if he was the type of man where his children were the center of his world. She hoped so, anyway.

His little girl — what was her name? She pulled the paper up again — Madalyn. She closed her eyes and said it out loud.

“Madalyn.”

The girl had dark hair and eyes. She must have taken after her mother. She had delicate features on ivory skin, long, dark eyelashes framing her eyes. But her smile was definitely her father’s.

The little boy — Liam — took much more after his dad. He looked like a younger, fairer version of his handsome father. Liam had blond hair and blue eyes that would probably turn a pretty green by the time he was a teenager. He had deep dimples as he smiled in his picture, and again she wondered if those might have came from his mother. He still had the pudginess of a baby moving into toddlerhood. She imagined him, waiting for the picture to be taken, bouncing on his feet , with all the vigor of a child who couldn’t wait to explore life.

When she looked at the picture Mr. Anderson had sent, they looked like a normal family. She would have never guessed the pain and heartache they’d suffered in such a short time. What an awful situation to be in. This family would require extra care and sensitivity. She was pretty sure that the house would be a mess and that the children would need to re-establish routines again.

Inga had decided she would take the job as soon as she’d read his letter, and saw the pictures. This would be a perfect home for her. She loved serving... in every sense of the word.

Don't get ahead of yourself, Inga. You have no idea what he's like – or what he likes.

Still, a part of her wondered — and longed.

Inga looked at his hands. They were the hands of a white-collar worker, and definitely matched how she’d imagined a surgeon’s hands might look. Long, slender fingers, smooth but strong. How would those fingers feel sliding into her pussy, squeezing and caressing her breasts? She visualized sucking those fingers, their smoothness gliding upon her tongue. How would those hands feel spanking her bottom? With those long fingers, she knew his hand would cover a large area, if not all of her bottom.

Inga moved her hand into her panties, the other slipping inside her bra, massaging her nipples. She brought the juices from her pussy up to her clit, lightly circling it with feathery touches. She imagined
his
hand was the one in her panties. She focused on his long, slender fingers in the picture, imagining how smooth and soft they would feel, wet with her juices as they slid over her smooth labia. He would bring his finger to her clit, while his other hand would knead her breast, pulling and pinching her nipple. Inga rolled onto her stomach on the bed, imagining that she was over his knee getting a spanking.

What would he be like as a disciplinarian? Would he scold? Would he be the stern and silent type?

She continued stroking her clit, reaching over and grabbing her rabbit vibrator, flipping the switch to turn it on. She pressed the cold latex into her pussy, initially feeling resistance until it was coated with her juices, her sex adjusting to the length and girth. She twisted the rabbit until the vibrating ears hugged her clit. Grinding and humping the toy in a slow, steady rhythm, she imagined herself moving the very same way on his muscular thigh, as those soft hands of steel rained down smarting spanks onto her naughty bottom. She imagined the feel of his denim pants brushing roughly against her bare pussy, her juices soaking the denim to his thigh, the sticky wet spot rubbing on her labia as she ground her pussy into hard, unyielding muscle.

Her sex squeezed the vibrating length. She flicked a button on the handle and the Rabbit twisted in a circle, the vibrating head brushing her cervix. Grasping the handle, she pressed it against her vagina. When she twisted the rabbit, it would slide over her g-spot. Alternating between thrusting against her cervix, gliding the spinning, hard rubber along the wall of her pussy. Each time it gently stroked over her g-spot, the muscles of her womb clenched, her hips thrusting in response to the spasms.

She lifted her hips, slowly rotating them, then pressed down hard and fast onto the dildo, her thighs shaking as her arousal climbed. She moved her hips in short, quick motions to the left and right, the ears of the rabbit stroking her clit, making the juices in her sex seep down onto the hard rubber. Again, she pressed down onto the mattress and the rabbit, imagining that she was clenching her bottom in pain. The tightening of her ass and thighs made her clit strain for release, escaping from the little hood exposing the bundle of nerves to the increased vibrations.

She took quick intakes of breath saying quietly, “Oh God, oh, God!” until her orgasm hit. Blinding white stars burst behind her closed eyelids and she groaned, thrusting her hips. Her sex clenched around the slick, vibrating length, her body shivering and convulsing with the final spasms. She continued to grind slowly as she came down from the orgasmic high, until her sensitive clit begged her to shut the vibrations off.

She let the rotating rubber cock continue stroking her sex until her breathing was back to normal, and she fell asleep on her belly, the rabbit still in place, comforting and caressing her, filling the void she wanted filled by a man. And hopefully soon.

Yes indeed, Garrett Anderson, you’ve just acquired your very own Swedish, live-in nanny, cook, cleaner, and maybe even more. I hope you’re ready.

Chapter Two

G
arrett looked around the house, feeling pleased with his progress. It wasn’t as clean as Anne would have made it, but it was clean enough. His mother, sister, and mother-in-law had come to the house with pails, cloths, and cleaning supplies, and they’d done their best to get it in order. The last thing he wanted would be for Inga to turn right back around as soon as she saw the state of his house.

He’d received a letter back from Inga, and she’d seemed very anxious to meet them all. She’d sent a picture, and he’d completed the necessary background check and finger print checks. She came out clean for the background check and fingerprints, and she had excellent references. They’d Skyped one evening… and her voice was the hottest thing he had heard in ages.