Temptation (Dungeon Elite Book 1)

by Leigh Lennon

  Chadwick

  My mind—no, more like my dick—can’t stop thinking about her. Fuck, I want to train her. I have to show her a life of submission is not about losing yourself, but about having the control in your hands. And it’s about freedom to experience a new sexual revolution, one she’ll be begging for if she could just give in to her preconceived notions.

  Scanning the facility, I’m able to rewind the security tapes and see that Taya, one of our Dommes, has led her to the changing rooms. I know they’re still inside because her key card has not swiped other parts of the club yet.

  Calling her directly, she answers the phone and shows me the respect I deserve, not as a Dom but as her boss. “I need to speak with Ms. Lipton. Please instruct her to stay put. I’ll be there shortly.”

  The second I open the doors, a bit more forcefully than I’d thought, Nina is out of her seat. “Sir, can I get you something?”

  “No, just sit there and look pretty. And sure as fuck, if Jared comes back, he better wait for me in my office.” Looking over the balcony to the main entrance of the club, I twist my head back to her. “On second thought, summon him. Tell him I don’t care what the fuck he’s doing. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll be in my office.”

  Nina is beautiful, and I have no doubt she can fulfill her role of sitting there and looking pretty as I’ve instructed.

  I pass Taya in the hallway before she turns to her little shop of wonders—as I call it. It’s mainly for staff, but I open it up for my members to shop in during the day, too.

  “Taya, how does Ms. Lipton seem to you? And please be honest.”

  Pursing her lips, she pulls me out of the main part of the hallway. “Chad, she’s not what I’d pick as your normal submissive. She doesn’t seem to be trained at all.” I give Taya a pass when it’s just her and me, and we’re away from the rest of the staff. I trained her as a dominatrix, and we’ve always shot straight with one another. “Shit, Chad, tell me it isn’t so.”

  My gaze narrows in on her, and I give her some slack but not too much. “She’s new and not a sub, but in this club, she’s under my control and not one person but you, me, Jared, Kira, Nina, and Todd Teely know this.”

  Cocking her head to the side, she looks at me. “Who the hell is Nina?” Oh, fuck, I better send out a memo letting everyone know Nina’s new name.

  “My new assistant is Nina. And everyone will call her that.” I stop with a silent warning, then continue, “And somehow, Jared’s bleeding heart is now my fucking problem.”

  Understanding covers her face, along with a smirk. “But the Dom in you sniffs out a challenge, and you have to train her, is that it?”

  “Fuck, Tay, you know me too well.” She starts to walk away from me and turns ever so slightly. “Good luck with the challenge, Mr. Westbrook. I think you’ll need it.”

  I haven’t trained many dominatrix in my life. She’s only the second but one of the best, probably better than I am. She’s much kinder, but I think that’s the female genes coming out in her.

  I could barge into Eve’s changing room because I have the key to let me in, but I knock. Taya’s niceness is rubbing off on me. Fuck, I’m becoming a pussy. I knock anyway.

  “Come in.” Her voice cracks, and I wonder if she’s scared. I guess I could have told Taya to calm her nerves, but hell, why would I? “Evelyn,” I call out. “Are you decent? May I come in?”

  “You’re asking permission?” Fuck, this woman is cruising for a spanking.

  But the one thing my subs never see is my anger or the out-of-control version of me. Shit, I’ve never had to pursue a woman before in my life. They come to me. I’m a hard Dom, but women fucking love their men as assholes, and since I am one, I’m loved a lot.

  With the door cracked, I call out. “Ms. Lipton, you’re pushing your luck, and as much as I’d love to have your ass as mine, I can think of many different ways I’d like it first. So, I’ll ask you again, are you decent? May I please come in?”

  “Yes.”

  I try not to chuckle because I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. “This is your last chance, Ms. Lipton. Let’s try this again. Are you decent, Evelyn?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her reply is quick, and because I don’t know her super well, I give her the benefit of the doubt that she’s not being sassy.

  Pulling the door all the way back, I walk into her personal dressing room. These women are not strippers. They are the first line everyone sees, regardless if they are down in the dungeon, in our restaurant, or a hostess at the entrance of the club. Because the basement of this mansion has a parking area in the back, people who come strictly to play enter through the dungeon. All those coming through the main doors upstairs must adhere to a strict dress code.

  I see all her outfits hanging up in a small closet with no doors. I walk over to look at her play clothes for the dungeon. “Ah, Taya picked out the perfect items for you.” There’s a black one-piece that looks like a catsuit teddy with a matching garter belt and hose. I need to see her in it. The other is a leather skirt and black corset top. And of course, Taya selected a little bit less of a provocative leather dress in case I want to have dinner with her in the restaurant.

  “Ah, I love these. Do me a favor and take this into your bathroom for me.” I hand her the catsuit-looking number. “I’d like to see you in this now.”

  Her hands find their way to her hips. Fuck, she’s cute. “And you think you have a choice in this. I’m telling you, I just want to make sure you’re ready. And listen, Evelyn, I’m three seconds away from putting you over my knee.”

  Her hands leave her hips. Pulling at the outfit I’ve given her, she looks at the items and back at me. “Where is the rest of it?”

  Now, I let her see my humor, first and foremost. “This is all there is to it, Ms. Lipton.” I wave my hand, gesturing to her bathroom. “Unless you’d like to get dressed out here.”

  Sulking away, she gently takes her outfit and locks the door behind her. “I’m not going to barge in, Evelyn,” I add, sitting in the one chair in the room in front of her vanity. Glad to see she has both club makeup and work makeup.

  I’m particular what my employees wear in my club. Down to the underwear, shoes, hose, and sure as fuck even the makeup. I don’t want my employees looking like Bozo. My subs, I love with makeup on—but just not clown status.

  The lock unclicks, and she scurries out, covering the cleavage spilling over in her catsuit teddy number and looking edible with red heels to complete the outfit. I internally chat with the other part of my body who has a head, too, telling him silently to behave. But shit and fuck, this girl. Her arms are toned but not like she could out bench me. I’ve already talked about her tits—how they spill over—and her hips, the curves, making her waist look as if it’s so slender that my hands could touch if I place them on her. And though she’s on the shorter side, with her red heels, her legs call for me—telling me they were made to wrap around my body.

  “Evelyn, though you aren’t my sub, you’re still my employee. You won’t cover yourself in my presence because hell, you’re stunning in this getup.” Her eyes stare at me, and I swear she’s silently challenging me. “Drop your fucking arms.” She obeys instantly but slaps them down with a huff as if she’s a fucking four-year-old.

  “Come here,” I demand in a controlled tone. She stands still. Pointing at her and then the space between us, I begin again. “Don’t fuck with me, Evelyn. Come here.”

  “Please, Sir, I’m sorry, Sir.” Her eyes drop from my own, and I do the one thing I’ve never done with a sub or my employee—give them a second chance.

  “Okay, Eve, but no more warnings. Next time, you will be spread over my lap.” Dropping her chin and raising her eyes, she nods her head in understanding.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  I move a stool in front of me, and pat it, instructing her to come to me. “Come sit, I’d like to chat with you.”

  “May I change first, Sir?”
<
br />   Hmm, this is an interesting question. Yep, I fucking know the answer before it rolls off my tongue. “No, now sit.”

  She sits and, at first, attempts to use her hands to cover her tits, but when I narrow my gaze her way, she drops them to the side.

  “Now that you have signed your contract, gotten clothes, and been shown your dressing room, do you have any questions?”

  “Just two. First, when do I start?”

  Fuck if I know. But I answer her, trying to show a little bit of kindness. “The restaurant manager will be in contact with you, but my guess is tomorrow.”

  She nods. “And second, your lawyer, Mr. Teely, told me I’m not allowed in the club without you. If you travel, I can’t be here.”

  “True, you’re under my protection, and I keep my word.” I try to stare in the chocolate of her eyes, but I’m distracted by her cleavage.

  “How would I get paid?” she asks.

  “That’s a good question. I’m not sure, but for now, I’ll be here for the next six months, traveling no more than four days at a time.” She had told me two questions, and this is what I’ve answered, so I move on. “Now that you’re dressed for the dungeon, would you like me to show you what it’s like? It’s open from ten a.m. to three a.m. We can go down there now since you’re dressed for it.”

  “Am I allowed to say no? Do I have a choice, Sir?”

  Her question is very telling. Someone has taken away her basic choices in life. She’s given me very little to go on, but with this little tidbit of information, I can sense some hesitation for submission. In my request, it’s one way I know that I can build toward dispelling her disbelief about submission. It’s not an overnight sensation. I have to be patient, something I seem to lack.

  I lean forward, tipping her chin. “Yes, you do. I’ll take that as a no then.” I pull out my phone, send a text, and stand. “Every time you come to this club, you will wait for me in my office. For that reason, be sure to arrive two hours before your shift.” I stand, walking to the doorway. “And, Ms. Lipton, I’ve arranged for an Uber to take you back to Ms. Singletary’s apartment.”

  “Um, I’ll wait for Kira,” she begins. I immediately am aware of her concern and hesitance.

  I turn around quickly, trying to summon all common sense to that part of my body who wants to come out and play. “When I say you are under my protection, I mean it. I’ve paid for the Uber. If you find you need something, please come to me.” And I leave her alone with her thoughts and move quickly to my apartment I keep on this level. Fuck, I need to find someone to help me out and soon. Picking up my phone, I see who’s in the building. Ariel is here. She’ll do.

  Chapter Seven

  Eve

  I’m on the front steps of this mansion/club waiting for the Uber driver Chadwick Westbrook demanded he’d arrange for me. The double doors of the club open, and I turn to see the sweet eyes of Non-Nina behind me. “Eve, Mr. Westbrook wanted me to give this to you and to tell you exactly, from him, ‘This is not up for negotiation. I take care of those I protect. Take this and get some decent clothes that fit and groceries for the week.’” She laughs, and then asks, “How did I do? Did I sound like him?”

  She isn’t a dick, and for this reason, she could never sound like Chadwick Westbrook. I could imagine, knowing him for less than an hour, these words falling from his lips, but in his entitled everyone is going to do what I say sort of way. But I don’t mention this to her. She’d feel put in the middle since she’s clearly a sub, too.

  When I look in the envelope, not only do I find a thousand dollars, but there’s a note, too.

  Evelyn:

  Here’s my number below. Program it in your phone immediately. I expect a return text right away with your number. You need anything, I’m a phone call away.

  CW

  He’s not anywhere near me, and he’s still fucking demanding.

  I’m back in my apartment, or should I say Kira’s. But hell, it’s not hers either. My fucking father is the reason I’m up the creek without a fucking paddle. If it weren’t for him, I’d at least still have a roof over my head.

  The thirty-minute car ride back to the apartment had been long. And it leaves me thinking how the fuck will I get out to the mansion of kinkiness every day. I’ll have to search the L and a fuck ton of buses, but I’ll leave that for later.

  A text alert, a lonely chirp not assigned to anyone, brings me out of my funk, and the hairs on my arm stand on its ends. Shit! I secured the money deep in my purse along with my phone so I wouldn’t lose it and forgot to send Chadwick a text.

  Unknown number: Ms. Lipton, I had to go search for your cell phone number, and I don’t search for or chase anyone. Do you understand me? For someone who’s afraid of getting spanked, you sure are asking for it.

  I save the contact number in my phone and chuckle. He can’t see what he’s saved as—or I’d really be getting that spanking I’m avoiding like the black death.

  Me: Sir, I’m very sorry.

  In my text, he can’t hear the sarcasm in my voice.

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I can’t hear you right now. Be ready at 8 p.m. tonight. You are needed at the club.

  Me: What? I start work tonight?

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: I have no idea. But I want you here.

  Me: Um, sorry, Sir. I don’t understand. I’m not your sub. I don’t have to obey you like this.

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: You’re my employee. Be here. Or you don’t have a fucking job.

  How will I get there? I guess I can have an Uber take me, but it seems like a waste of money since this job is in my rearview mirror the second I have enough cash to find a normal waitressing job. Having an employer who’s not a controlling dick is just a bonus.

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: Ms. Lipton, I’m waiting.

  Me: Am I going to get a spanking?

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: No, not for this. I know you’re overwhelmed. But if you want a spanking, I’ll gladly give you one.

  Oh, he thinks I want pain? As if I need pain and I crave it. Does he think I’m a masochist?

  Me: No, it’s not my style.

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: Oh, by the time I’m done with you, my kitten, it will be.

  Me: Are you a betting man?

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: This just got interesting, Kitten.

  I chuckle. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s flirting with me.

  Me: Don’t call me Kitten, please. Sir.

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: Oh, Kitten, I think we’ve already established that I call people anything I fucking well please. Now back to the bet. Let’s place one.

  Me: I have nothing to offer you.

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: Are you forgetting something, Kitten?

  I exhale a deep breath and summon my nonabrasive self to deal with this jackass.

  Me: I have nothing to offer you, Sir.

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: Now that’s better. Thanks, Kitten. Back to our bet. You do have something I want.

  Me: So what’s your suggestion?

  I understand I’m a forbidden fruit to him, not one to allow him access to my sweet peaches.

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: Let’s see, in a month, if you are not fully turned on and ready to explore BDSM with me, you’ll have earned fifty grand. But you have to be willing to learn about BDSM on my terms. It doesn’t mean you’re mine, but you’ll be required to accompany me to the dungeon and live in the apartment next to mine for the duration of the bet.

  Me: What? You want me living next to you?

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: Yes, I have an extra apartment. What’s your answer?

  Technically, I’m not hoeing myself out. No sex will be involved, though being around him all the time, the likelihood of my mouth causing my ass to be spanked is high. One month for fi
fty thousand dollars. It’s not conventional, but no money is being exchanged for sex. Actually, quite the opposite. If I have sex with him, the bet’s off, and I lose.

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: I’ll raise the ante, Kitten. One hundred thousand dollars.

  Holy shit, I almost drop the phone.

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: I’m waiting for your answer.

  In one month, I’ll have enough money to leave the city and settle down in a place I don’t have to auction off a lung to live.

  Me: You’re on, but I want it in writing, Sir.

  A couple of minutes go by, and I’m left waiting as I’m sure is his ploy.

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: Okay, I’ve contacted Todd Teely, and he’s drafting the contract. I’m guessing you haven’t unpacked at Ms. Singletary’s. Leave all your belongings there. I will have it packed up at a later time. I have a car on its way to pick you up. Get your sweet ass back to the club, and we’ll get you moved in.

  Me: The club?

  The hot asshole who wants to spank me: It’s where I live, when I’m in Chicago.

  Ah, fuck, I ask the same question again; knowing it’s not the last time I’ll ask this. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter Eight

  Chadwick

  I’m looking at my texts, peering through all the transactions of what I’ve agreed to. The money—a hundred G’s is a drop in the bucket to what I bring in monthly, not making a dent in my self-worth. But 24/7 basically with this chick?