Under Lock & Key: A Daddy Dom Romance (A Traditional Daddy Book 2) Read online

  Under Lock & Key

  Arabella Kingsley

  Published by Blushing Books

  An Imprint of

  ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc.

  A Virginia Corporation

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  ©2020

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The trademark Blushing Books is pending in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Arabella Kingsley

  Under Lock & Key

  Amazon ISBN: 978-1-64563-569-7

  Barnes & Noble ISBN: 978-1-64563-570-3

  Kobo ISBN: 978-1-64563-571-0

  Apple ISBN: 978-1-64563-572-7

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64563-573-4

  Audio ISBN: 978-1-64563-574-1

  v1

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Arabella Kingsley

  Blushing Books

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  Chapter 1

  Sabrina found herself slung over a man’s shoulder. Her small curvaceous body was naked. From her position she could not see the man’s face but the smooth caress of his large palm on her bare bottom was both reassuring and familiar. She was to be disciplined. A mixture of fear and sensual anticipation stirred her blood and moistened the tops of her thighs. Confused by this new feeling she sought to rebel, squirming and wriggling in her captor’s arms. The action was to earn her a sharp slap to her rear. The sound of the tall man’s punishing blow echoed around the walls of the large house and the sweeping staircase to which he purposefully strode. Sabrina gave a small whimper feeling the brand of his hand blaze hot. Never had she felt so vulnerable or so tamed into silence.

  The man mounted the stairs. His voice was French. He spoke to her in a calm but firm deep velvet tone evoking seductive fear. He talked to her of the beating her bottom was to receive with his belt. He was to take her in hand. By the end of the night he would ensure her submission and obedience to his will. She had put her life in danger, dared to hide her pain and fear of the man who stalked her and done all she could from preventing him from protecting her. Wrongly, she had believed she could deal with the matter alone. He would not tolerate her deceit and reckless behaviour any longer. In matters of her safety and protection he was in control and King in his household. Her lover was not to be crossed or her bottom would pay a dear price. He would not permit her rebellion, however much it enthralled and amused him. As if to emphasise his words he gave her bottom another hard slap. This time it provoked a cry from Sabrina’s lips, yet she did not rebuke him.

  She was too consumed by the increased arousal flooding her pussy. Her clit throbbed and a heavy aching need to be penetrated and firmly claimed by the man both overwhelmed her senses and outraged her thoughts. How could she feel this way with such humiliation? With the way he had publicly ripped the flimsy floral summer dress from her body in front of the house staff and ordered the young maid to remove her lacy white bra and briefs. Sabrina had struggled making the task difficult for the young woman but she had firmly persisted and won the battle.

  The man sternly informed Sabrina she would spend the weekend naked and locked in the West Tower of the house and for most of it over his knee receiving some much-needed discipline. She remembered the way she had desperately tried to cover her nakedness, cupping her pert pink breasts and crossing her legs as she watched the maid neatly fold her underwear and leave the room without one perturbed look upon her face. Sabrina had the feeling this wasn’t the first occasion she had been given such an intimate duty.

  Another older maid joined them on the landing and led the way to a large wooden door in the corner. The man stopped and waited patiently as she took out a set of keys and opened the door to reveal another set of enclosed dark, winding, stone stairs. Sabrina struggled over his shoulder but he hushed her with another fervent slap.

  Undaunted, the older woman moved up the stairs. Slowly they followed. They appeared to go on forever. At the top of the stairs there was another door. The woman opened it and entered. The room was dark but became softly illuminated when the woman turned on two of the wall lights. A large four poster draped in white silk formed the centrepiece of the room. The man turned to close the door and Sabrina was able to view the woman pulling out the pillows of the bed. She stacked four of them at the nearest end of the bed and held them there waiting for direction from her employer.

  Sabrina heard the man murmur his approval and approach the bed. She found herself being lowered down and placed over the pillows, facing the wall. Her buttocks were raised high and proud for all to view. She had been prepared for him, for his punishment. The man dismissed the maid. She heard him remove his suit jacket, loosen his belt buckle then quickly slide his belt from the loops of his black trousers. Her heart began to pound nervously but she did not dare move. She was too afraid to incur his wrath again by moving and a part of her was intrigued and curious. He had never been this way with her before. Perhaps this was elaborate foreplay. He wouldn’t really beat her bottom. But the sound of leather cutting the air and striking the pale delicate skin of her bare bottom sent her shrieking with surprise.

  Sabrina jolted awake, shocked and alarmed by her dream. To her horror she discovered her damp arousal had been real. She shuffled uneasily on the leather seat of the car wondering if her dream was pure imagination or an old latent memory lost when her memory disappeared ten years ago. Memories had been sparse since she’d walked into a London hospital after having been injured. She hadn’t even been able to tell them her name. She played the new memory over in her head again. She hadn’t been able to see the man’s face. No matter how hard she tried to remember his dominant figure, she could not recall his face. Unsure she even wanted to admit it was some distant memory of a former life, she glanced out of the car window and watched the moon cast her silvery shadow over the pretty French countryside.

  The black Mercedes glided over a hill following a narrow ribbon of road towards the illuminated Chateau Valois, suddenly dominating her view. A majestic building set in vast grounds, its tall, cream, fairy-tale turrets capped with smooth grey strained to their fullest height. It only served to show the house was not just a home but also an impenetrable fortress like its owner. She’d expected something grand, after all her host was a wealthy businessman but this was beautiful. It could have been stolen out of a fairy-tale.

  The car travelled over a drawbridge that lay over the moat surrounding the chateau. It drove through an arch nestled between two towers, and Sabrina heard the car’s wheels softly crunch over the gravel of the inner courtyard opening out in front of them.

  He was there striding out of the house as the car came to a halt. His tall intimidating frame sent a curious mixture of excitement and fear tingling the
length of her spine. It was a feeling that had seized her the first time they met and continued to provoke her curiosity. He opened the door before the chauffeur alighted and offered his hand, giving her no choice but to accept his assistance. She felt his hand linger, smoothing the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. It was an intimate caress, one of lovers which startled her senses and made her pull her hand away in embarrassment.

  He gave her a hooded smile as though he fully expected the reaction and remarked on the coldness of the weather. Expressing his concern that she would be feeling the chill, his arm hung loosely around her waist bringing a healthy flush to her cheeks as he guided her into the house.

  The housekeeper was waiting for them. She gave Sabrina a cordial but guarded greeting making her believe the woman was unsure about her presence in the house. She led them both up the snaking stone staircase blanketed by a luxurious red carpet to Sabrina’s room.

  “I put you in this room, Sabrina because it has a good view of the grounds,” her enigmatic host told her as they entered one of the guest rooms. “Do you like it?” he asked moving away towards the white marble fireplace at the side.

  He appeared eager for her approval but it was hard to look at her surroundings when Raoul Valoire was around. His very being dominated the pretty blue room with its mahogany four-poster dressed in sensual blue and white satin bedding. Somehow he made its luxurious splendour insignificant.

  “Yes, of course I do. It’s beautiful. Being here makes me feel as if I have stepped into the past,” she gushed nervously.

  Raoul was on his haunches stoking the fire to make it blaze higher. He stopped for a moment and she was sure she could see his mouth curve into a knowing mocking smile. She prickled. Why did she get the unsettling feeling Raoul Valoire knew more about her than she did and was enjoying it?

  She began removing her gloves, loosening the buttons on her coat, her mind echoing with abuse, arrogant, pompous… She stopped as he stood and turned to advance towards her. He dwarfed her small curved form and she found herself straightening her back to rise to her full petite height.

  “You haven’t taken your coat off yet,” he said with a frown. “Is there something wrong? Are you cold, Sabrina?”

  It was the way he said her name, the way it rolled off his tongue with that sexy melodic French lilt, like an intimate caress that made her soften. It bore a strange familiarity.

  “No, thank you. I’m fine. I was just about to.”

  But he was there before she could raise her hands to begin the task, slowly slipping the cashmere coat from her shoulders and depositing it on the bed behind her. Why stop there she mused with irritation at the liberty he was taking. Cold? How could she be? Every time he was near her she quietly burned with the warmth of a blazing furnace ever since their first meeting. And he knew it. It was disturbing. It wasn’t like her to allow any man to have this effect on her. Yet here she was allowing Raoul Valoire to exert his power and reel her in like a fish.

  Damn it, Sabrina. Get some control.

  For a fleeting moment she lowered her eyes to his hands. They were large, masculine and well manicured. Her mind pictured them cupping and squeezing the weight of her breasts, firmly holding her hips as he rode her bottom from behind, tightly, painfully pulling through her hair to hold her in place as he kissed her deeply and then splayed across her bare bottom as she lay face down over his knee… Sabrina gave a small gasp and looked up quickly into his eyes.

  The man was a virtual stranger. She knew nothing about him but her body spoke to her in fleeting images of them both, of past encounters entwined together in unbridled passion. It was crazy. They were so vivid they felt like memories. She looked up at him wondering if somehow he’d seen it too.

  Raoul’s eyes were dark and fathomless. They were dangerous eyes, the type that swallowed you whole and didn’t allow you up for air. They drew her in and held her prisoner.

  Nervous at the curious effect he was having upon her and her mixed up broken memories, she pulled away to admire the roaring fire, rubbing her arms. A part of her knew this man intimately and he her. She didn’t know how. Maybe it was that past life nonsense her friend Lorna kept on about. No, it was ridiculous. It was mere wishful thinking. He was handsome and dominant. Maybe her mind fantasised it could convince her he was the one who had cared and loved her before her attack and memory loss, that it was he who’d spanked her in the memory she experienced in the car. Perhaps, his dominance made her feel safe on some strange buried level of her psyche. Yet she’d experienced the same surreal feeling when he had first been introduced to her at that cocktail party only two weeks ago. There seemed no logical answer for it.

  “Are you feeling all right, Sabrina? Is there anything I can get you?” he asked.

  She turned around. There it was again, that knowing smile, as if he knew exactly what she was feeling and it amused him. She studied his face looking for some clue as to the game he was playing but he was giving nothing away.

  Sabrina watched him smile innocently clearly aware of the purpose of her scrutiny. Every time she looked at him he took her breath away. That was what made him so deadly, she decided. He possessed the type of looks that would seduce a woman from a mile away. An English mother and a French father had provided a light warmth to his skin and an aristocratic smoothness to his face. A neatly groomed beard clung close around his mouth and jawline. His hair was short, on trend and a luxuriant brown. It begged for her to run her fingers through its rich shiny texture. Everything about him was powerful. He made her feel vulnerable and coy around him. His whole persona seemed to arouse her deep feminine need for his protection and to her horror, his dominance. She wanted him to be the man in her memory. She pictured him spanking her. His hands were just the right size and firmness to make her punishment effective and ensure her obedience.

  Sabrina felt her breasts swell and push painfully against her bra demanding freedom. Sex had never been anything but vanilla for Sabrina for the last ten years. Thoughts of being disciplined with spanking had never occurred. But this stranger was provoking buried sensations she would never have thought herself possible of experiencing. Deep inside she tried to hide the fact she wanted this man to belong to her from the past, for him to take her in hand, spank her into submission, to love and protect her. It didn’t sit with her surface feelings. She was a strong capable woman who had survived kidnap and rape.

  For the last ten years she had taken care of herself. She did not require a man’s protection, company and certainly not his discipline. How could she even consider having these feelings after what had happened to her? But they did not in any way resemble the intense fear, oppression and revulsion she felt when her memory flashbacked in broken interrupted images to her attack. Her feelings with this man were loving, arousing, protective. These memories made her feel cared for on a deep level. Still her surface consciousness sought to protect her, would not permit any consideration of the difference. All men and their actions were to be viewed with caution. Whatever she had been before her attack she could not afford to allow herself to be again. It was too dangerous to trust any man, especially in a sexual way.

  Alarmed as he strode towards her purposefully, she backed away but there was no safe retreat. Her back was just about hitting the fireplace and the heat of the fire was about to scorch and melt the leather of her boots if she got any closer.

  Sabrina’s blue eyes searched his face, looking for some explanation, when his eyes narrowed at her. More than a little nervous she made an attempt to move away to the side. But she found her chin being lifted and her head tilted sideways.

  Raoul trailed the warm tips of his fingers along her neck, gently probing the aching stiffness that tormented her so often. She froze with fear.

  “You are always tensing, Sabrina. When will you ever learn to relax?”

  Her mind was screaming caution but her body had a will of its own paralysing any movement she made to escape. Traitorously the aching muscle softened, melted a
gainst his fingers as though it had a mind of its own. The man knew just where to touch, to soothe and to deepen the massage to ease her pain. She would swear to it. What was happening? More to the point, what was she doing allowing him to touch her?

  “Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” the housekeeper stopped her speech abruptly, her eyes resting anxiously on her employer. They hadn’t even heard her knock.

  Raoul lowered his hands and Sabrina edged away, afraid to meet his eyes or the housekeeper’s for the sake of embarrassment. She thanked the woman and announced she would dress and be downstairs as soon as possible. It was the cue for both of them to leave and the housekeeper took it at once but Raoul lingered.

  Sabrina felt afraid and for a moment considered making some excuse to leave the chateau. But her common sense made light of the situation. She was imagining it. He obviously liked her and she was flattered. Perhaps it was simply wishful thinking that she’d known him before. But she had come to do a job and she wasn’t leaving until it was done. She would conduct herself professionally from now on and stop acting like a schoolgirl.

  Yet the strangeness of the whole occurrence kept intruding on her thoughts and try as she might she could not put it aside. There was something about this house and the people who inhabited its walls, a déjà vu feeling she couldn’t explain.

  Raoul interrupted her ruminations. His hands were firmly in his trouser pockets as if to keep them from further mischief, his speech formal and distant once more.

  “I will see you later. Please call either myself or my staff if you require anything.”