Mastering Inga (Service & Submission Book 2) (6 page)

Well, that’s a start at least.

She continued. “I know it seems out of reach, but at one point submission seemed out of reach also. Isn’t that the point? I mean if it was easy, everyone would do it. I want to try something deeper… and I would like to be a slave to a Master. I know I’ve probably ruined any chance for me to experience that due to my little fit, but really… I want to try it.”

Is she asking me to train her as a slave? Is this real? I mean do bastards like me get this fucking lucky?

Garrett took a deep breath as he walked toward her. She swallowed hard, her body stiffening, but to her credit she didn’t back up. She dropped her gaze though, staring at the floor.

He tilted her head up with a finger under her chin. “Are you asking me to train you as a slave, Miss Inga? I’m not sure I’m qualified. I mean, being a ‘pompous arrogant’ Master and a ‘stupid man’. And what was that I was called? Oh yeah, an asshole — a ‘stupid asshole.’ Someone just recently told me that I need to work on that.”

“Um. I didn’t… I mean, I just was trying to—”

“I guarantee, you won’t call me names again. We’ll nip that behavior in the bud tonight, bad girl.”

The blush rose again on her neck and face. He wondered if it was the same color as his handprints on her bottom, or better yet, if her nipples were the same color.

Stop thinking about that. Christ, you’ve got a hard on just thinking about her nipples.

“Very pretty blush, Missy. Want to know what I just wondered?”

She nodded.

“I wondered if the color of your blush is the same color as your nipples, or if my handprints on your bottom have the same tint.” He ran his forefinger along her jaw line.

“I guess we’ll be finding out. Since you just asked me to train you, lesson one of your training — if you agree — will occur tonight. It’ll be for your little outburst, snapping your fingers, and the name calling. I believe a spanking is in order. Don’t you, Miss Inga?”

Chapter Five

S
he took in a shivery breath and couldn’t seem to exhale. Her body stiffened with excitement, anxiety and… what was that? Sexual arousal?

This man is a widow — you can’t have feelings for him!

Inga stared at him. She couldn’t get her throat to work, to let the words come out. He’d said he’d be spanking her.

And he’d just agreed, by the sounds of it, to train her.

“What happened to the mouthy nanny in my house? Where did the fiery wannabe slave go?” Garrett slid his finger down her neck slowly until it was in her cleavage. Her nipples had tightened, the hard points obvious through the thin fabric of her top, and he stared at them like a predator spotting its prey. His warm, smooth hand cupped her right breast, pulling it free from the confines of her bra while his other hand made a slow, delicious trek down her belly. Her juices coated and seeped from between her nether lips, and she struggled to keep her hips still. All she wanted to do was grind on his thigh until her juices drenched the gusset of her panties.

As if he’d read her mind, his thigh slid between her thighs, pushing up until her pussy and pubic bone pressed firmly against the hard, muscled plane of his leg. Inga gasped softly, rolling her head back in ecstasy. She didn’t care what he thought at that moment, her thoughts were focused on her clit, the pleasure erupting from that little bundle of nerves chasing everything else away. Her clit begged to be stroked, rubbed and ground against that hard thigh. She rolled her hips, lightly rubbing against him. Her pussy had soaked through her panties by this point and she wouldn’t have been surprised if she found a wet spot on that beautiful, hard thigh wedged between her legs, pressing against her pussy.

How long has it been since you had sex, Inga?

He grabbed her head, weaving his fingers in her long hair, fisting it until her scalp burned. The pain only added to her arousal. She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, and then he lunged for her mouth. His soft lips melded with hers, his tongue probing her mouth. Both of his hands dropped to her ass, kneading and squeezing, pulling her against his groin. His cock pressed into her belly through his jeans. She rose up on her toes to line up that hardness with her slit, his throaty groan in response melding with the sound of her own keening. Her womb clenched and tightened with need. Her hips convulsed against his hard cock, pressing, swiveling, and then with no warning, his hand slapped her bottom. She instantaneously came, shouting her release, digging her fingernails into his shoulders until the rolling multiple orgasm finally subsided. Still very aroused, he continued to grind his cock upon her sensitive clit.

While her body shivered with residual tremors, Garrett tucked a hand under each cheek of her bottom walking with her over to the couch. He laid her on the couch, his bulky body pressing her into the cushions, his hips a perfect fit between her thighs. She lifted her hips, wrapping her legs around him, her heels against his ass, pulling him tightly into her, her wet pussy pressing against his hard length. With one tug, he ripped her thong off her body, tossing it over his shoulder.

“Christ, I feel like I’m gonna burst out of these pants like the Hulk. Are you okay with this? He chuckled and shook his head. “God, some Dom I am. What is your safe word, sweetheart?”

“Rabbit.”

Garrett blinked, staring at her for a moment. “Rabbit?”

“Yeah, if a guy is enough of a douche that I have to safe word, then my Rabbit vibrator is the safest thing for me, right?”

Garrett dropped his head to her shoulder, laughing with a deep chuckle that warmed her heart. She hadn’t heard him laugh since she’d arrived at the house. It was a comforting sound. Sensual. Warm.

She knew she needed to make him laugh more. The laugh lines around his eyes belied the serious man she’d seen up until that moment. This was a man who was used to laughing. She needed to bring that back.

“I guess a vibrator would be a safe place and a very appropriate safe word in a bad situation. Anyway. I hope you never have to use that safe word in this house. But if you need to, you don’t hesitate. Not for a minute, not for a second. Punishment for not using your safe word is very serious. Understand?”

Inga could see the sternness in the set of his jaw once again. This was a man who wanted his woman — well,
any
woman — safe.

She nodded back at him.

“Nuh-uh, that won’t cut it. Not anymore. When a question is asked, your response is what?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll use my safe word if I need to.”

Garrett brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “Good girl. Very pretty. I like hearing you say ‘Sir’. Now, let’s talk about the uncomfortable state you’ve left me in. I
really
want to fuck you. Are you okay with this?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Inga giggled as she used her legs to pull against her, grinding brazenly against his cock, reaching around to grab and squeeze his ass cheeks. She wanted those jeans of his off
now
.

“Bad girl.” Garrett groaned and pulled up enough to unzip his jeans and pushed them down, his erection finally springing free. He kicked his pants off, giving him the freedom he needed to move upon her just as he liked.

Inga grabbed his cock, the skin hot and silky smooth against her hand. She gently stroked the length.

“You’d better let go or I’m not going to last,” Garret said, his voice thick. “It’s been a while for me too, Missy.”

He thrust into her then with one fluid move. He filled her to the brink of discomfort. It wasn’t just his length — it was his girth, too. He stilled within her, letting her body adjust to him, giving her control of the situation, if only for a moment.

Inga slowly rocked her hips, feeling him roll and thrust inside, her pussy pulsating around him.. She luxuriated in the sensation of fullness, squeezing him hard until he sucked in air through clenched teeth.

“Jesus!” He gravelly groan made her clit vibrate. “If you keep this up, it’s going to be fast, girl.”

“I want it fast and hard,” she said, almost pleading. “We can do slow another time. Fuck me fast!” To prove her point she clenched her cunt around his penis again, holding it tightly despite the low growl coming from his throat.

Garrett quirked an eyebrow at her. “Later, when you’re receiving extra swats for this, remember that you asked for it.” He pressed himself deeper, his cock hitting her cervix. The almost uncomfortable yet tingly feeling had her sex convulsing around him, her heels pressing against the under-curve of his ass, spurring him to go even deeper, even harder.

“I’m coming!” Inga dug her fingernails into the fleshy part of his ass, pushing his cock in to the hilt. “Oh—oh, God, I’m coming!”

“Not... until I say! You wait, girl!” His lips sought hers with a frenzy, pressing hard and insistent, his probing tongue moving in time with the thrust of his cock deep within her. He wound both hands in her hair, tilting her head up, pressing kisses to her neck while pounding into her with such force that she slid up into the corner of the couch.

He rose over her then, hammering her pussy. “Now, Inga! Come now!”

They shouted their mutual release, finally collapsing in satisfaction. Sated.

In a tight clasp, they clung to each other gasping for air, Inga’s mind started to swirl with doubts and questions — wondering how this happened so quickly, why she hadn’t halted it, and wondering if he had doubts also. She hadn’t expected to react to him sexually. It frightened her the attraction she felt for him—and obviously he’d felt it too.

But her ‘temper tantrum,’ as he’d called it, made her question if she was really ready for this.

* * *

G
arrett pulled his semi-erect cock out of her, tucking her under his arm and covering them both with the blanket draped over the back of the couch.

He’d forgotten about Anne. Not for long, but he
had
forgotten about her.

How do you forget your wife? Asshole.

Sadness filled him, but there was more to it than that. Could it be relief too? The conflicting emotions had him wondering where he went from here. After all, Anne had been gone for over nine months. He’d cried almost daily since her death.

He knew it wasn’t cheating when a spouse died, but deep inside, irrational or not, it still felt too much like a betrayal.

She’s gone, Garrett. Gone. Until death do us part...

Having sex with a Swedish nanny in his living room — like he was a teenager again — had been exhilarating. He’d agreed to train her, and would be punishing her shortly.

The guys at work would never believe him. Ever.

Inga the Swedish nanny — Job duties: Caretaker for the children during the day and slave servicing his cock at night.

Inga, the Swedish sex slave? Snap out of it, Garrett!

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like standing on a roof and shouting out his happiness. Well, except for the day he’d married, and the births of both children.

And yet, part of him wanted to just sit and cry. It felt like a final good-bye to Anne. He would always have a soul tie to his wife; she owned a part of him that no one would ever be able to touch. She’d carried and given birth to his children — with no medication. All natural. He’d to go to bed dying with a head cold, and she’d had the fortitude to pop out a nine pound baby without so much as an
aspirin.

When Madalyn had come down with pneumonia at eight months, Anne didn’t sleep in their bed for days. Instead she’d held Madalyn in a chair so she would be upright and not struggling for air. When Liam had a febrile seizure at one, she’d slept on the floor by his crib. When Garrett had found her in the morning, her response was “That’s what Mommy’s do.”

The smell of lilacs in the spring would bring her memory back to him — forever. He wondered if the smell of her perfume would always make his cock hard.

But those memories reminded him of more than the loss of a wife. He’d lost a friend. A true and faithful friend. Having sex with Inga… felt
disloyal
.

Until death do us part…

He knew the words, knew what they meant. But his heart and emotions, felt like he’d been disloyal — like he’d betrayed her. Lying with another woman in his arms felt wrong, even though he knew he hadn’t committed a crime, or even a sin. And he knew that Anne would probably be cheering that he had a wannabe slave in his arms. She would be the first person happy that this situation had fallen into his lap — and his house.

Part of him wanted to find Anne and say, “You aren’t going to fucking
believe
what happened last night!”

It happened several times a day. He’d pick up his phone to send a text… and then remember that she was gone. Or he’d call her to pick up something at the grocery store, and before he’d finished punching in her number, that old, familiar pain would hit him again.

Until death do us part…

Inga made a sound and stirred against him. He turned to her, thinking she may have been asleep, but those big, beautiful blue eyes stared up at him. Eyes filled with tears. “I know. it’s hard. I’m sorry.”