Fulfilling Her Fantasy (11 page)

All
the vindication she'd experienced when writing it now ebbed in the reality of
having to see the man face-to-face and stand behind her critique. She grit her
teeth. But she could. She'd said absolutely nothing that wasn't true. David
Marone deserved to be put in his place—he was not God's gift to diners,
as he seemed to believe. Nor was he God's gift to women.

Although
seeing him here did make her squirm a little in her seat. He probably made a
damn good Dom. He'd had the confidence of a politician even as a twenty-two
year old.

She
looked at the back of his head where he'd chosen to sit about four seats ahead
of them. With dark, thick, wavy hair, brown eyes with curling lashes and one
dimple on his cheek, if she remembered right, he had the handsome look of a
politician, too.

She
squeezed her fingers together to stop the trembling, which was just nervousness
about having to defend herself to him. It had nothing to do with the strange
squirming going on deep in her belly when she thought about his aggressive
charm.

#

He
could not believe it. Portia Sands, here at the Castle. She'd recognized him,
too. He'd seen the way she'd dropped her coffee and left it spilling across her
boots when he'd stepped out of his car. And she'd come alone. Or at least, not
with a partner. She and her friend both had the aura of submissives, no matter
how haughty they'd tried to appear. And they'd sized up him and Paul with the
assessing interest of females in search of a mate.

He
sank into his seat on the bus, realigning his view of the stuck-up princess
from culinary school with a BDSM submissive. Maybe that was why he'd been
interested in her way back then. He'd picked up her vibe. But she certainly had
rejected his.

He'd
tucked a copy of
Windy City Eats
in
the outer pocket of his suitcase, not because he wanted to read the review
again, but more to prove to himself that it truly didn't matter, and that he
wasn't hiding his head in the sand by running off this New Year's. Now he
rejoiced at that stroke of genius, because before his trip had ended, he
resolved to get the little brat over his knee for a thorough
spanking—with the rolled up magazine, of course. The thought cheered him,
and he smiled to himself in anticipation.

The
bus pulled up at the Castle and he got out, stretching his legs. On going to
retrieve his suitcase, he was reminded that the Castle porters brought all
luggage to the respective rooms. David hadn't visited in winter before, but, if
possible, the structure appeared even more impressive; the great stone
structure appearing like a mirage against the Ohio landscape. Just seeing it
made his pulse quicken with excitement at all the thrills the coming days would
hold for him. He couldn't wait to put on his white Dominant's bracelet and
begin the play.

"Welcome
to the Castle," the submissive at the outdoor reception tables said with
her sweet, eager-to-please smile.

He
gave her a wink and handed over his paperwork.

She
wasn't quite his type—big-eyed and dimpled, with the naïve innocence of
the submissive who needs a strong daddy. No, his type was more... he stole a
glance to his left where Portia stood, her back ramrod straight, her black hair
twisted and pinned on the back of her head. With the regal composition of her
face, only the tight cords in her neck belied her nerves. Yes, he preferred a
challenge. He liked a complex woman, the kind he had to drag to the edge but
take care not to drop. A woman with a heavy dose of pride, where humiliation
became the game but crossing the line ended it. Okay, if he admitted it, he
wanted Portia Sands. He wanted her on her knees begging his forgiveness for the
damn review; not out of fear, but out of a genuine desire to please
him—her only master.

He
gave himself an inward shake.
Pull it
together, David; that's not going to happen.
And the sooner he got over her
nasty review, the sooner he could start enjoying himself with the multitude of
other submissives far more likely to kneel at his feet.

Mrs.
Hardwick, a stern-looking housekeeper, called them over for orientation and he
dallied, watching the others moving toward the cluster of new guests.

"See
anyone interesting?" Paul said, appearing at his elbow.

It
took David tremendous willpower not to turn his head toward Portia.

"Not
yet," he said, making his decision and striding toward a seat. He took the
place directly behind the slender food critic, loving the way she jerked her
head straight forward to avoid seeing him. But he knew she'd noticed him. The
flush of color spreading down her bare neck told him everything.

He
wanted to torture her until she screamed.

Mrs.
Hardwick gave her usual lecture about safety and Castle rules, which he barely
heard. Instead, he spent the entire introduction becoming intimate with every
detail of Portia Sands's back. She'd crossed her long legs, her full-length,
fawn-colored jacket falling open to expose tight black jeans and high heeled,
knee-high boots. The toe of her boot jiggled in a frantic dance. She held her
hands clasped in her lap, her lightly manicured nails appearing natural and
healthy under a clear coat of gloss. She wore the yellow wrist band for the
naughty maid program, and she and her friend also sported black velvet ribbons
around their necks. He couldn't recall seeing neck ribbons on any of his past
visits. What could they designate? He made a mental note to find out as soon as
possible.

He
pinned his gaze to her left ear and willed her to turn and look at him. People
know when they're being watched, particularly so intently. She would feel it.
Sure enough, her head wobbled a little on her neck and her chin began to turn,
her eyes sliding to look over her shoulder.

He
smirked, meeting her gaze with cool amusement.

She
drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widening before she whipped her head back to
face the front, sitting up straighter than an Army general with a pole up her
ass.

David
almost laughed out loud. Paul shot him an amused look, and he grinned. If life
came with a personal DJ and soundtrack, right now he would cue "Bad to the
Bone" because he truly felt like the big, bad wolf.

Mrs.
Hardwick divided the group into Dominants and submissives, and his group left
for a separate orientation. David knew without looking that Portia's eyes were
following him as he left.

After
the Dominants' orientation, he stopped at the reception desk. "What do the
black velvet ribbons designate?" he asked the sweet-looking girl who had
checked him in earlier.

"Oh!
Those are worn by the slaves who will be participating in the charity auction.
Do you plan on attending?"

"Hmm,
no. But what happens if I change my mind? Do I need to register or
anything?"

"No,
you can sign up when you get there. The auction will take place in the Middle
Ballroom, and there will be a Meet and Greet in the adjoining ballroom an hour
before the auction so you can mingle with the slaves and get a feel for each
one."

He
tapped the counter thoughtfully. "About how much would you guess the
slaves will go for?"

"I'm
not entirely certain. Of course, all the money goes directly to charities that
fund cancer research."

"Yes,"
he mused. "But do you know what the starting bids will be?"

"I
heard two hundred dollars, but please don't quote me on that."

"Thank
you," he said, giving her a smile.

He
went straight up to his room, hardly aware of all the frolicking going on
around him. His mind kept repeating one thrilling idea:
he was going to make Portia pay.

#

Portia
and Tina followed a pretty staff member named Kaylee to the orientation for the
auction slaves. She counted twenty or so women in all, but probably quite a few
more had arrived the day before. She'd been told they could come up to
thirty-six hours in advance in order to enjoy the Castle experience prior to
the auction. Tina had not been able to afford an extra day off work, and Portia
hadn't wanted to come without her only friend, so they would only have the
remainder of the day. She didn't mind. She knew it would be easier to
experience all the Castle had to offer under the direction of a Dominant.

That
was the beauty of submission—all she had to do was follow directions and
she couldn't mess up. She found it far easier than attempting to navigate
situations on her own, where she got bogged down with trying to figure out just
how she was supposed to act, or what she should do or say.

Master
Marshall, whom she recognized from the brochure as the head honcho and one of
the owners of the Castle, greeted them himself. She tried not to stare at the
handsome man, who cut an elegant figure in a nineteenth century gray suit, his
piercing blue eyes sweeping across them. "Thank you all for volunteering
to serve as slaves for our New Year's charity auction. While you will not have
a choice of who you will serve, nor will you have a choice of how you serve,
your hard limits will be respected, and the Castle safeword,
"onions," will always be in effect."

Tina
looked at her and grinned, her nervous excitement palpable. Portia returned the
smile, but with slightly less enthusiasm. After sweating through the first
orientation with David Marone breathing down her neck, her nerves had frayed.
While fairly confident that he hadn't recognized her, the less she had to see
of him, the better. Honestly, she couldn't wait until the auction when her
master took control of her and she no longer had to worry about interacting
with the masses.

Portia
had given the name "Kitty" as her alias while at the Castle. Not the
most original name, but it seemed like a decent porn star name. Tina had opted
for "China," which suited her in a china-doll sort of way. Portia
didn't know whether Kitty really suited her. The cutesy vibe wasn't her, but
she did have the aloofness of a cat, and she had a feeling she could wear the
hell out of a catsuit. Not that she'd checked 'pet play' on her interest list.

After
the welcome, she and Tina walked to their adjacent rooms to check them out
before the optional tour.

"Oh
my God," Portia said in awe, when she opened her door. The four-poster bed
sported rings, and more rigging hardware had been installed in the ceiling. Her
nipples tightened at the thought of being strung up from one or more of them,
the pulse beginning in her sex making her squeeze her thighs together.

"Nice,"
Tina said, entering behind her to look around.

"I
hope I get strung up to one of those tonight," Portia said, imagining
herself blindfolded and secured spread-eagled, while her new master fucked her
with a vibrator. Or his hot cock. A tremor ran from her pussy, down her inner
thighs, to the arches of her feet. Now she knew where the term 'curled her
toes' came from. She suddenly wished Tina would leave so she could get busy
with her fingers. But no, they had to meet back downstairs for a Castle tour in
fifteen minutes. Tina had befriended a submissive who'd offered to take them
around with some other new arrivals.

"I'll
just head to my room and freshen up," Tina said, rolling her shoulders.
"Meet you back here in ten."

"Sounds
good," Portia said absently, still imagining the feel of restraints on her
wrists and ankles. Shaking herself, she removed her winter coat and threw her
suitcase up on the bed. Pulling out her cosmetic case, she went to the bathroom
and freshened up herself, brushing her teeth and reapplying lipstick. She gave
the mirror a fake smile, examining herself critically. She rubbed the line
between her brows. Worry marks. Her face looked pinched and anxious. She
stretched her lips wider, as if the smile could hide the almost forty years of
high stress living. Well, the lighting would probably be dim at the auction.
And besides, a Dominant looked for more than just a pretty face when choosing
his play mate.

She
met Tina in the hall and the two walked back downstairs, joining a group of men
and women for a tour. "First of all, everyone will need to visit Wardrobe,
because street clothes are not allowed. Otherwise, you risk being
spanked," their guide said cheerfully.

A
man with dark hair, ocean-blue eyes and a goatee gave Portia a seductive look,
just bordering on a leer. "Your first time, too?"

She
gave a nervous bark of laughter. "Does it show?"

"Well,
no. But you're on the tour."

"Oh,
right," she said.
Duh
.
"Sorry, I'm a little nervous."

He
moved in closer, his predatory look warming into a friendlier one.
"Nothing to be afraid of. Everyone here just wants to have a good
time."

She
should appreciate being chatted up by a good-looking Dominant. So why had her
belly tightened into a knot? "Right," she said, drawing a breath and
looking around for an escape.

Tina
caught her eye and gave her an encouraging smile.

The
Dom picked up her hand and touched the bands on her wrist. "Yellow is
for... what? The school room?"