It’s here! The much awaited new release of the latest Masters of the Castle books!
Five books, five authors, one awesome low price. This box set is going to be offered for ONLY and very limited time. So, if you want all five stories for the incredible price of $9.99, today is your chance!
Also, don’t forget: This morning from 9 am to 11 am EST, we are having the release party for the box set on Facebook. You don’t need an invitation. You don’t need an admission fee. You don’t need to buy the books. All you need to do is show up. We are having fun, games, and we are passing outcan win the box set as well as other books, gift cards to Amazon or Barnes and Noble, and even a brand new Kindle Fire! So stop by. Say hi. I look forward to meeting you all there!
Ready for the next installment?
Meet Abbie Adams, author of Buying Brianny!
“Be strong,” Sam said, arms folded across his chest, legs crossed at the ankles, doing everything but look at the girl falling apart on the other side of him.
And Jackson tried. He honestly did, but every gasping hiccup and whimpering sniffle was cutting right to the quick of him. One didn’t work in a place like this for as long as he had and not develop the ability to recognize a Little soul when he saw it. He’d always had a soft spot for Littles. That plaintive cry—I need a teddy bear!—had cut him just as surely as if that lost little girl had pulled a knife on him.
Shifting in his chair, he tried to harden himself against her crying. She seemed so bewildered. She probably didn’t even know what offense had brought her to sitting here, right outside Master Marshall’s office.
“I w-want to go home,” she whispered, pulling her legs up into the chair with her so she could hug her knees to her chest.
He couldn’t stand it.
Tapping Sam on the arm, he gestured for his friend to move. “Switch me seats.”
“He said be stern with them,” Sam told him.
Yeah, he had. But he’d been friends with Marshall long enough by now to know this was not what Marshall would have wanted.
“Move,” Jackson said again, and this time Sam did.
“You’re a Twinkie,” he said, not bothering to hide his grin. “A big ol’ cream-filled puff pastry.”
The big ol’ cream-filled puff pastry didn’t take that sort of thing from just anyone and told Sam so by smacking the shorter man upside his ponytailed head as they swapped places. Both Sam and Kade bust out laughing; the Little only hugged her legs tighter, trying to make herself small and invisible as Jackson squeezed his massive frame into the chair beside her.
Yeah, he was a Twinkie all right.
“Come here,” he told her, taking hold of her arm.
She was in entirely the wrong headspace for this. Lost as she was, when she crawled out of the chair she tried to go straight into spanking position across his lap. He had to turn her, pulling her down to sit on his knees instead. She needed very little encouragement to put her head on his shoulder, and she all but curled into his arms when he wrapped them around her.
“What’s your name, honey?” he asked, his Daddy Dom side rising hard and protectively fast over the Little in his lap.
“Abbie,” she said, still sniffling but already starting to calm. That was good.
“How old are you, baby?”
“I’m not a baby.” Her bottom lip protruded just a bit, her brow furrowing into a slight frown.
Jackson almost smiled. He’d take pouting over panicked any time. “You’re all grown up, are you?”
She nodded against his shoulder, but already that pout was fading into a look that seemed almost guilty. “Maybe not all grown up,” she confessed. “I might be just a little bit Little at heart. Sometimes I struggle with my desires to have a daddy who will keep me in line and yet still baby me. I’ve always lived in a make-believe world, unwilling to share this desire with anyone for fear they will laugh at me, or worse lock me up. That’s why I write what I do. It keeps me sane. It’s kind of like therapy.”
“I’m glad you brought your books up,” Jackson rubbed small circles in the small of her back, knowing even the smallest touches during the hardest conversations could make a Little feel better. “One of those books in particular is why you’re here, isn’t it, Abbie?”
Abbie looked at her neck so she wouldn’t have to look at him, but Jackson knew that evading tactic and he knew how to counter it as well. Tucking a finger under her chin, he rased her face until she had no choice but to bring her reluctant gaze to his.
“Isn’t it?” he repeated.
Slowly pushing against his shoulder, Abbie sat up again. She clutched her hands in her lap and fidgeted with her fingers. “Coming here has always been a dream of mine,” she whispered. She stole peeks at him, as if trying to gauge how badly he might be judging her. “I-I haven’t ever been to a club or experienced any ‘real’ BDSM. The Castle just seemed like the perfect place to order…I don’t know…the ‘sample platter’, so to speak.”
“I understand.” Jackson switched his touch from the small of her back to the top of her bottom. He patted, just once. “But you broke some of our rules in that book, didn’t you? You put my family in your book. My wife, our newborn baby, and worse, Kian and Brianny, two of our paying guests.”
Abbie wasn’t just fidgeting with her fingers now. She was squeezing and wringing, strangling them until the blood choked off at the tips turned them red. “I wrote about Brianny and Kian because Brianny is probably the most like myself. It has been terribly hard for me to share my shameful desires with my husband. And some of the hot and/or humiliating scenes in Buying Brianny actually are real experiences between my husband and I.”
“So you do have some real life BDSM experience,” he said, to which she held up two fingers a scant inch apart. “Would I also be correct in guessing that our Nursery program might be a good place to put you?”
She strangled her fingers even harder. “Maybe I could try the school age program, too.”
“With Master Emerson?”
Jackson gave her bottom another pat. “That might be arranged. I know this is where Marshall will want to know which of us to pair you with, but I think I have my own ideas about that. A little girl without a Daddy Dom is, by nature, a very naughty little girl in need of firm guidance. I don’t think I’m in a mood to let that continue today.”
She blinked at him, her lips parting, her chest rising and falling just a little faster than normal. She wasn’t crying or calling for a teddy bear to hold anymore, so he almost hated to do it, but he agreed with Marshall: Certain things couldn’t be allowed to slide, and she—just as the other four women—had crossed a line. Abbie knew it was coming, too. He knew she could see it when he hardened the severity of his expression, and he knew by the way her body tensed that she could feel it in that last ominous pat he placed upon her hip.
“When little girls are naughty at the Castle,” he told her sternly, “they get punished so they can be good girls again. You’ve accrued a lot of naughty botty punishments with this book you wrote, isn’t that right?”
Her little breaths came even faster. Her eyes were wide and locked on him and her nod of ascent, when it came, was very small. But, she gave it, and that was consent.
“You have a choice, Abbie. You can stay here and talk to Master Marshall.” He waited, letting that sink in a moment. “Or, you can come with me right now. Daddy’s going to take his belt off,” he warned, before she could answer. “You’re going to get the ginger plug and ten minutes on the pouty chair in the corner.” He softened his severity. “But once it’s over, it’s done. Then you’ll be Daddy’s good little girl again. How does that sound?”
She was trembling on his lap, but she wasn’t crying and if he had to guess, he was willing to bet at least half of that trembling was due to sheer relief.
“I-is there a teddy bear I can hold?” she asked, and just like Big Abbie lost her tentative hold, leaving only Little Abbie behind.
Smiling, Jackson offered her his hand. “Let’s go see if we can find one.”
To Be Continued…
He was a man for God’s sake. A man living in the twentieth century where treating a woman delicately had been bred into him. You never hit a girl, his mother had taught him that from a tender age. Women’s rights were touted hither and yon. Spanking was for disobedience in children. No, children weren’t spanked anymore either.
Kian had been spanked many times as a child. His single mother might have seemed like a country mouse, but she’d walloped him good on more than one occasion. And he’d deserved everything she dished out. He knew it—and he knew she loved him and wanted the best for him too.
That hadn’t worked with an ex of his though. She hadn’t thought of it as loving when he’d busted her ass for drinking and driving. No, she’d ended the relationship in a hurry. Of course he’d never repeated the mistake with another women. Not even his Brianny, who as it turns out, has craved discipline among other things.
Brianny has a bucket list, not the kind you want to do before you die—the kind you do before you get married. Okay, maybe not that either, but her sister says unless Brianny explores her inner submissive, she’ll never be content with her future husband.
But what if said future husband turns her away because he doesn’t like her submissive side? It had taken Brianny a pint of Hot Damn and her kinky sister to even put voice to her secret desires.
Some people go to strange and amazing lengths to prove their love. All Brianny wants as proof is for Kian to buy her at The Castle’s New Year’s Eve charity auction, then tie her up and take away her control. Consentual, non-consent, that’s what her sister had called it. Was that too much to ask?
Will Kian pay the asking price? Money might not buy love, but at The Castle it can buy a submissive for the week.
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Would you like to read more by Abbie Adams? Just click these links below: