Punishing Portia: A Masters of the Castle Novel

When well-known chef and restaurateur David Marone recognizes the food critic who just lambasted him in a review on the charity auction block, he bids an inordinate amount to keep her as his slave for three nights. He remembers the haughty foodie from culinary school seventeen years earlier, and relishes the idea of getting even with her for her mean-spirited review. Portia Sands hopes the dark and gorgeous Chicago chef who won the bid for her at the Castle charity auction doesn't know her real identity as the food critic who tore him apart in a review the week before. She finds he hasn't changed since culinary school - still arrogant, over-confident and domineering. Unfortunately, he has the same effect on her now as he did then: reducing her to a trembling mass of jello. When he pushes her to her limits, placing her in a cage like a pet, she discovers he knows who she is, and means to exact revenge. She considers calling the Castle safeword to end their time together, but some part of her won't allow it. Somehow she must survive three nights as his slave and keep her heart in the process. Originally part of the "When the Gavel Falls" Box Set Collection released in January 2015. . . 5 full-length "Masters of the Castle" novels for one low price - $9. 99. ?span class='maxbutton-1-container mb-container'>?a class="maxbutton-1 maxbutton maxbutton-buy-on-amazon" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" href="http: //www. amazon. com/Punishing-Portia-Masters-Castle-Darling-ebook/dp/B00UKGC7ZK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8038;qid=1428024200038;sr=8-1038;keywords=punishing+portia" data-mbga="{'cat': 'Amazon Buy Now','action': 'click','label': 'www. amazon. com','value': 0,'noninteraction': 'false'}">?span class='mb-text' >Buy on Amazon?/span>?/a>?/span>"That bitch!" David shouted, slamming a fist down on the stainless steel prep counter so hard he made everything on it pop into the air. "I know," Jerry, his sous-chef, said in commiseration. Jerry had just brought him the latest Windy City Eats magazine, which carried a scathing review of their new restaurant, and, in particular, of him and his skills as both a chef and a restaurant owner. David read aloud, "Megalomaniac Chef David Dean Marone has opened a second restaurant near the waterfront. As if appearing on the Food Channel and already having a restaurant (Marone's) named after himself wasn't enough, this one, too, takes his name?David Dean's." He skipped ahead. "Overall, David Dean's is much like its owner/chef; arrogant and pretentious. No wine on the menu is under forty dollars, and while our red was decent, it was served too warm, something that shouldn't happen at a restaurant that purports to take pains in sourcing and handling only the highest quality food products. Of course the food is what you would expect from an award-winning chef like Marone, but I found it at times cloying." He jumped to the end. "The service is haughty rather than humble. If you want to be looked down at for not having designer shoes and a matching handbag, this is the place to go. Three stars for food. One and a half for service, one for atmosphere. "He slapped the magazine down again. "That woman seriously needs to get laid. ""Honestly, a review like this will only help us," Jerry reasoned. "The phone has been ringing off the hook for reservations, and I don't have a single table free for five weeks. "David rubbed his face. "Yeah, but where does she get off?" He turned to look at his right-hand man. "Is this true?"Jerry hid a grin. "Look, boss. Your confidence is what made you the most successful restaurateur in Chicago. No-one here is complaining about you, and none of our customers are complaining about the atmosphere. The exclusive feel is why they want to see and be seen here. "David drew a breath in through his nose and exhaled, trying to relax the tension in his shoulders. His upcoming vacation could not be better scheduled. He looked down at the magazine review again. Portia Sands, Critic at Large. "I went to school with her," he said, pointing at the byline. "Oh yeah? Is that why she has a bone to pick?"He snorted. "I have no idea. I never did anything to her. I wouldn't even remember her if she didn't have a name straight out of a Shakespeare play. ""Was this in college?""No, the Culinary Institute. She and I were the only two who had graduated college first. Most people there were younger?nineteen or twenty. She acted snotty about the program?I think she found the classes below her education level. You know; it was vocational training, as opposed to a graduate degree. ""So now she writes scathing reviews about the people in her class? Lame. "David relaxed, calmer now that he had aired his anger. "Maybe she had a crush on you and you failed to notice. "He gave a short bark of laughter. "I think it's the opposite. I asked her out once, just for coffee, but she pulled the old arriving with a gaggle of friends thing. Nothing shows indifference better than bringing all your girlfriends on a date with you. "Jerry laughed. "Didn't want to get stuck alone with you, eh? That's rough. She really is a stuck-up bitch, isn't she?"'David laughed, the gossip eroding his bad mood. "Just frigid, I think. Probably, underneath it all, she's just dying to get nailed, but she can't let herself go." Something teased the back of his mind? as though he'd had a conversation like that with her, all those years ago. Not able to retrieve it, he let it go. She wasn't worth any more brain space. The thought of sex lured his mind to his New Year's holiday. Once a year he took a trip to the Castle, a BDSM fantasy locale in the middle of Nowhere, Ohio. A real Scottish castle, transported and reconstructed brick by brick, the vacation spot indulged every sort of fetish, and provided the opportunity for him to play Dom to eager subs. It was something his local BDSM group could probably provide as well, but his workaholism interrupted any potential playtime in the city. For him, a getaway was a necessity?and sexual fantasy fulfillment was just the kind of recharge he needed. While he didn't play often, he'd been on the scene for almost twenty years, and sexual dominance had been hard-wired in him since puberty. He also prided himself on being able to read a sub well enough that he'd never had one call her safeword, and he always received repeat invitations to play. "Hey boss," Carrie, his house manager called out, coming in early, as usual. Most of his staff hung out even when they were off-shift; David Dean's or his first restaurant, Marone's, becoming their social outlet as much as their place of employment. There was an addictiveness to the food industry?the rush from busy shifts, the instant gratification of cash in the pocket at the end of the night. They'd become a tight-knit group, like a family, with all the same in-fighting and love, dependence and dependability, drama and more drama. He adored them all?his mad, mad family. "This review is bullshit," she said, throwing Windy City Eats down, her eyes flashing. "I can't believe that bitch. If she ever shows her face in this restaurant again, I will serve her warm red wine with rabbit turds floating in it. "He burst into laughter. "Thank you, Carrie, I appreciate that. Don't worry, Jerry says the phone's been ringing off the hook for reservations. All that review did was solidify David Dean's position as the place to see and be seen in Chicago. "Carrie relaxed, taking her cues from him, as always. "You're not upset?"He smiled. "Only for a minute. I'm over it now. In fact, I think I'll send her a note thanking her. ""Just don't invite her back, because I'm serious about the rabbit turds. You know I have a pet bunny, right?"He laughed again. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave the bunny turds at home, Carrie, even though she does deserve them. "Carrie grinned. "Okay, boss. But I have them if you need them. ""I'll keep that in mind. Now, you both know I'm going away for New Year's. ""Yep," Carrie said. "Jerry is in charge, but I expect you to run things smoothly out here, because he might be needed in the kitchen. ""Yep, no problem. I can handle it. ""I know you can. ""Where are you going? Any place fun?""Ohio, actually. And it will definitely be fun." He said no more and Carrie was too well-mannered to pry. "Well, it's a good time to get away, what with the review and all. ""I can't wait," he said, Portia Sands already forgotten as he contemplated all the sexy women with whom he would get to play. #Portia took another sip of her ginger spice latte. She and her friend Tina stood outside the coffee shop, watching the people get off the bus that had just pulled in from the Castle. Just the sight of it made her want to chuck her beverage in the trash and run for the rental car. What the hell was she doing here?She'd been on the BDSM scene for a little more than two years?ever since her divorce from Fred, when she'd finally admitted to herself that the reason she'd never wanted to have sex with him was because she didn't like slow and tender. She regretted not learning that one important fact about herself earlier, because it probably could have saved her marriage. After ten years of her perceived frigidity, her husband had thrown in the towel. Her inability to conceive may have helped his decision?no children to keep things together. The doctors had never found anything wrong with either of them, but she always felt as though Fred blamed her for it. But she couldn't hate Fred for calling it quits. She wouldn't have wanted to be married to herself, either. The years of trying everything?spending their entire savings on one in vitro treatment after the next?only to wallow in failures, had left her more than a little bitter. The divorce had been a wake-up call. She discovered yoga. And BDSM. She'd learned more about herself in the past two years than she had in the entire first thirty-seven years of her life. What a fucking waste. She pulled out the crumpled letter accepting her as a slave for the New Year's Eve auction. She'd read and re-read it a dozen times. Her questionnaire, with her interests and hard limits, would be passed on to the Dom who bought her. Her safeword would always be honored. So why did she feel like the coffee was shooting through her digestive system like the metal ball in a pinball machine? Because knowing she was a submissive who likes it rough was one thing; volunteering to sell herself in a charity slave auction quite another. What the hell did she know about being a slave? For three nights and two days, no less. This was going to be a total disaster. "Look how happy everyone looks getting off," Tina chirped, with her characteristic optimism. Portia saw nothing of the kind. Some people looked relaxed; some exhausted. Some actually looked like they were going to cry, but that probably didn't mean they'd had a terrible time. She'd felt like crying at the end of a BDSM party before. Tina had talked her into volunteering to be a slave along with her because it gave them a chance to experience the Castle for free, when normally a three night stay like this would cost upwards of four thousand dollars. It had been on her wish list to attend ever since she'd first heard of the place. The idea of showing up and being someone else?leaving her entire, uptight, barren journalist life behind and just living out her fantasies?made her ache with wanting. But now the reality of it had her chewing the inside of her cheek. She'd never scened with any man for more than a few hours?how could she possibly be one man's slave for seventy-two? What if she didn't like him? What if he played too rough? Well, of course she knew she'd have a safeword, but still. . . she didn't want to fail at this. Failure was the one thing she avoided at all costs. A car pulled up and two good-looking men got out, looking confident in the way Dominants always do. Her heart rate picked up speed just thinking about all the alpha men she'd be rubbing elbows?and other parts?with very soon. "Mmm, mmm. They look yummy," Tina remarked out of the side of her mouth, not turning away from the men. "Tell me about it. Oh shit!" Portia said, dropping the coffee cup, which promptly lost its lid and splattered creamy liquid all over her boots. "Oh no. Oh God. This is bad," she said, turning away from the men and pulling up the collar of her coat. "What? What is it?""David Dean Marone. Owner of David Dean's, the five-star restaurant I just ripped apart in last week's Windy City Eats. ""Uh oh. Does he know what you look like?""I don't know. He might. We went to culinary school together, but that was almost twenty years ago. He is notoriously self-absorbed, he probably would never remember me. ""Good. Then just play it cool. Dropping coffee all over our boots is not cool. ""Sorry," she muttered, bending to pick up the cup. "I'll get some napkins. ""Don't. Just chill out. Everything's going to be fine. "Easy for her to say. "Come on, let's get on the bus," Portia said between clenched teeth. "Okay," Tina said, grabbing the handle of her rolling suitcase. The two of them marched forward while she held her breath, trying to look as though she owned the place. This New Year's was going to suck. Big time. The bus driver checked off their names and took their bags. They found a seat in the back. It was like junior high all over again?the cool kids seeking out seats where they could stake out their own space. Portia slouched in her seat and pretended to check her email on her phone, stealing glances at each person who climbed on the bus. Lots of other excited submissives, coming alone, like them. A handful of couples. And three Doms. David Marone and his friend, and one other guy. David looked right at her when he climbed on, but his gaze traveled to Tina and then around the bus to the other women with nothing more than an assessing gaze. She exhaled. He didn't recognize her. If he had, he surely would have stalked over and given her a piece of his mind because her article hadn't just been negative?it had been scathing. And she'd hit below the belt, attacking David Dean as a human being, not just as a chef. 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 na?ve 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?""The naughty maids, actually," she said. He gave her a leering up and down look. "Mmm, I hope I get to see you in one of those outfits," he said, lifting his chin toward a girl who tottered by in high heels and the most revealing maid costume she'd ever seenPortia managed a tight smile, but turned away, toward Tina, who had not yet picked up the 'save me' vibe. She couldn't explain why she'd taken a disliking to the guy, who had done nothing worse than show an interest in her, but she had. *****