by Maren Smith
“Dungeon. They were very impressed with your efforts yesterday, so consider yourself assigned to the Dungeon until further notice. Off you go.”
Double damnit. Muttering a half-hearted, “Thank you, Mrs. Hardwick,” Tasha immediately decided she’d go and get a coffee on her way down. After all, Eamon wouldn’t know exactly when Mrs. Hardwick had sent her, would he? So what difference would five more minutes make?
Moving as quickly as she was able in those infernal heels, she tried to get a handle on her racing thoughts. Being assigned to the Dungeon meant one thing: she would see him again. It was pretty much the last thing she wanted. Aside from the fact that she was barely able to control herself around him, for reasons she didn’t want to examine, he watched her like a hawk, giving her almost no opportunities to slink off and look for Carmen.
Maybe it would be different today, though. Maybe he’d just been watching her so closely because it was her first day.
Even as she thought it, she knew she was deluding herself. Master Eamon—why did all the men around here insist on being called Master?—was gorgeous and a jerk, but he was no fool. Her reaction to his questions (and threats) would have set off all his alarm bells, surely?
As she entered the café and lined up for a coffee, she couldn’t stop herself from looking around, focusing especially on any man whose build and hair even remotely resembled Carmen’s or his henchman’s. At least her hours of stalking them across the country had branded the sight of the backs of their heads in her mind. Being around so many people all of a sudden felt odd, like she’d spent the last twenty-four hours underwater and was now coming up for air. While she’d eaten at the buffet restaurant the previous night, she’d been too tired and zoned out to really notice the crowds.
And too distracted by the memory of a pair of piercing, curiously hypnotic pale green eyes.
Focus, she told herself, ordering a large latte. While it wasn’t a given that Carmen would be there in the café at that exact moment, if he was, she needed to have a plan in place.
But what was her plan now? Would she still try to charm him? Wheedle? Beg? Considering she’d been summoned back into the dark isolation of the Dungeon, it was unlikely she’d be able to swing it so that she was assigned to him. She’d have to think of something else.
Like what? Slope off every chance you get and go looking? Eamon would love that!
Her upper arm tingled again at the memory of his grip on her, his whispered threat, and as she accepted her coffee and threaded her way out of the café, Tasha couldn’t stop herself from looking at the people around her in a different light. They had obviously all dressed for their respective roles, there was no modern clothing in sight. They all wore bracelets—black, white, yellow, pink, blue, purple, even with animal print—to denote what program they were in. They had traveled a long way and presumably paid good money to be here and indulge themselves in their kinky fantasies. And, for some, that included being scolded, threatened with, and even given corporal punishment. What the hell was the appeal?
Lishy hadn’t bothered to hide the excitement in her voice the previous evening when she’d described why she’d wanted to go and work at the Castle. A breathless confession that was so at odds with Tasha’s own flat statement when Eamon had asked her the same question. He had to have noticed.
She would ask Lishy at lunchtime, she decided, shouldering her way through the door leading down to the Dungeon. Right now, it felt like everyone else was in on some huge joke Tasha couldn’t understand. Maybe Lishy would be able to explain the punchline.
All she had to do until then was avoid Eamon as much as possible.
He’d lain awake half the night thinking about her. And, long before he’d gone to sleep, he’d decided to make sure she was assigned to the Dungeon again first thing in the morning. Even as he’d told himself it was because she’d done such a good job tidying up, he’d known it was a lie. The truth was, her behavior was fascinating and he wanted to get to the bottom of it once and for all.
Plus, she was extremely easy on the eyes.
“Good morning,” she said, her gaze fixed on the floor. She was clutching the biggest cup of coffee the Café had to offer.
“Good morning,” he said slowly, getting up to tower over her. “Sleep well?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“I see you came straight down.” Raising a sardonic eyebrow, he gestured to her cup.
She had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry. I missed breakfast. And I really, really need this.”
“Look at me.”
Her long, thick lashes flickered before rising, her big chocolate eyes finally meeting his own.
“Next time, come down here first and ask permission. Chances are, I’ll ask you to get one for me, too,” he said as gently as he could.
“Yes. Sorry. Er… Sir.”
“That’s fine. Well, you know what to do. I have an appointment soon so I’ll leave you to it.”
“An appointment?”
Amused by her honestly blurted out question, he hid a smile. “Yes. With a guest.”
“Oh. I see.” She clearly didn’t.
Deciding this was as good an opportunity as any for a little test, he went on to add, “Guests can book appointments with Castle Masters if they so choose. You know, for play sessions.”
Even in the dim, flickering light of the electric torches disguised as sconces on the walls, he could make out the color staining her cheeks. “Oh. Do you… never mind. Sorry.”
“Do I what?” He knew full well what she’d been about to ask. For some reason, he wanted to make her say it.
“It doesn’t matter. Please, I’d better be getting on with—”
With a single stride, he was so close to her, he could smell the soap on her skin. The coffee cup in her hand trembled. “Do I fuck them?” he said in a low voice. “Is that what you were going to ask?”
She made a little noise somewhere between a squeak and a gasp, the blush deepening on her cheeks. Her brown eyes looked almost black in the half light.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said mockingly. “And the simple answer is: sometimes. Sometimes I just tie them up and whip them until they scream. Sometimes I make them come so hard and so often that they’re begging me to stop. And sometimes, yes, I fuck them. If I really like them—and they ask me to.”
“Oh.” She said it so softly, it was barely audible. She was trembling all over now, her delicious, milky cleavage wobbling above the tightly cinched corset. The naked, raw desire in her eyes was unmistakable and he was suddenly overcome with an urge to throw her to the floor, tear off her black lace panties, wrap his hand around her slender throat and bury himself inside her as deep as he could go. His dick chafed in his pants.
“That’s it? Oh?”
She bit her lip and looked away, breaking the spell.
“You’d better get on with it then. Don’t forget to change the sheets in all the rooms,” he said brusquely, taking a step back, using every ounce of self-control he possessed not to reach out and touch her. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did she affect him this way?
“Yes, Sir.” Still avoiding his gaze, she hastened away, her heels echoing on the stone floor.
Thankfully, Eamon’s appointment was with a regular guest, who came to the Castle once every few weeks to be caned until she found release. It didn’t take long, and he forced himself to concentrate even though his thoughts kept straying to Tasha. He was glad when it was over.
Much to his irritation, Dominick, when Eamon hunted him down immediately after the session to bring up his concerns about the new hire, was more amused than anything else.
“I don’t get it,” he said, vigorously drying his black hair with a towel. “What’s the fascination?”
“There is no fascination,” Eamon protested hotly. “She’s just not on the level. She’s hiding something from me. From us. I can’t shake the feeling that she shouldn’t be here. Surely with everything that’s g
oing on at the moment, with Marshall’s cousin and so on, we should follow up on things we find suspicious?”
Dominick snorted. “Calm down, Columbo. The only suspicious thing about her is that she’s the first staff member I’ve ever known to have you getting your knickers in a twist.”
“Fuck off,” Eamon growled.
Tossing his towel aside, Dominick pulled on his trademark black t-shirt and began combing his hair. “You weren’t at the gym with me this morning. Did you have an appointment?”
“Not first thing, no.”
“Not like you to miss a workout without good reason.”
“I had a good reason.” Actually, Eamon didn’t. Not really. He’d made arrangements for Tasha to be assigned to the Dungeon again and had spent the rest of the time before she arrived pacing. Waiting for her.
“A hard-on for the new hire doesn’t count.”
“Fuck off.”
Dominick sighed. “You’re starting to repeat yourself.” Then, “Look, I think it’s wonderful. About time you started looking twice at someone who doesn’t already have a set date for leaving. I’ve been waiting for you to fall for someone—”
“I haven’t fallen for anybody! Christ!”
“Methinks he doth protest too much,” Dominick said with a grin.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Are you or are you not the Master Gaoler, Master Dominick?”
“I am.”
“Then I, as your colleague, am asking you to just check her out for me.”
“As in?”
With a frustrated sigh, Eamon ran a hand over his closely cropped head. “I don’t know! Talk to her. Get Marshall to go through her job application to see whether he missed anything. Something! My gut isn’t usually wrong and I’m telling you, something is off!”
Dominick rolled his eyes. “Fine. You said she’s assigned down here today?”
“Yes. All day.”
“I’ll see what I can find out then. And when we discover that there’s nothing wrong with her, that she is who she says she is—a pretty girl who has landed a plum job at the best BDSM resort in the world—I want you to eat a huge slice of humble pie and admit that you’re only kicking up a fuss because you’re taken with her.”
“I am not fucking…” Eamon let out another sigh, trying to pull himself together. Dominick could be stubborn as a mule when he felt like it. The only way to get him to understand things sometimes was to prove them beyond a shadow of a doubt. “Fine. It’s a deal.”
“Good.” Closing his locker, Dominick attached his whip to his belt and turned to leave. “It’s okay, you know. Falling for someone. In fact, it’s better than okay. It’s amazing.”
Before Eamon could think of a suitably acerbic response, the Dungeon Master had disappeared.
What a load of crap. He wasn’t falling for Tasha in the slightest.
Was he?
Chapter 4
Tasha just couldn’t get away. Every time she turned around, Eamon was there. Doesn’t he have work to do? she asked herself grimly, yanking a fitted sheet to stretch it around the corner of a mattress. Or does his job purely entail standing around with his arms folded, staring at my butt?
She wondered whether he had any additional clients lined up for today. Guests can book appointments with the Castle Masters, he had said, nonchalantly, as if that were some kind of accolade. Something to be proud of.
In her book, it was no different to prostitution. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out how anyone would lower him—or her—self to providing sexual services for money unless they were in the most dire circumstances and had no other choice.
And yet he was bragging about it.
At least that meant he was single. Surely no self-respecting woman would put up with a boyfriend who went to work every day and did… that.
Whatever it was he did.
Sometimes, yes, I fuck them.
Even as he’d said it, the effect on her had been instant; the involuntary twist of lust deep in her belly, the sudden rush of moisture between her legs. Just like yesterday, when he’d threatened to take the belt to her. It was as if the more outraged she was, the wetter she got. Things that shocked, disgusted or even infuriated her—when they came out of his mouth, were uttered in that deep, gravelly voice, made her body react in ways she’d never experienced before. And she was helpless to stop it.
“Once you finish this room, you can go to lunch,” Eamon said from behind her.
“Thank you.” She hated the peevish tone in her voice but something in him brought it out of her. Pummeling the pillows rather than fluffing them, she laid them out on the bed and stared at them, wondering what exactly went on in these ‘aftercare’ rooms.
There was a pause. “Would you like me to join you?” His tone was casual. “Don’t know about you, but I for one dislike eating alone.”
“I’m not eating alone. I’m meeting a friend.” Thank goodness for Lishy.
“Oh. Right. Glad to hear it.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Have you met Master Dominick yet?” he went on.
“No, not yet.”
“No doubt you will, soon.”
Was she imagining things, or did that sound like a thinly veiled threat? “Meaning?”
“I’d watch the attitude if I were you. I purely meant that this is his dungeon. He runs things around here. So it follows that you’ll meet him sooner or later.”
“Oh. Sorry. What does he look like?”
There was a muffled chuckle. “You’ll know him when you see him. Not least by his signature bullwhip. Another reason for you to try being more polite.”
In real life, Tasha was extremely polite. To people who deserved it, anyway. So his implication that she was rude to him just added fuel to the fire. She wanted to spin around and ask him how he would like it if he were in her situation—in a strange place, being ordered about like a skivvy, told to address everyone as Master or Sir for reasons he couldn’t understand, being threatened with physical punishment if he raised an eyebrow the wrong way (and got an inexplicable hard-on every time that happened), not to mention his sibling being missing and knowing the scumbag responsible was in the building but not having five minutes to go and find him. She was pretty sure Master Eamon wouldn’t like it at all. But instead, she forced herself to take a deep breath. “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”
“That’s more like it.”
“Would you say this room is done? I just need to take out the trash.” She picked up the bag and slipped her bare feet back into her regulation heels.
“All right. Be sure to come straight back down here after lunch. Have fun with your friend.”
Was she imagining things, or had he put slight emphasis on the word friend? “I will.”
Eamon was standing near the door and made no attempt to move out of her way when she headed towards it, forcing her to pass him so close that she could smell him.
Leather, soap, and a distinctly masculine scent assailed her nostrils, rising like heatwaves from that hard, muscular body. She suppressed a shiver of desire.
Why did he have to be so goddamn attractive?
Throwing a hasty, “I’ll see you after lunch, then,” over her shoulder, she hurried out to find Lishy, hoping against hope she would be eating at the same time.
Tasha was in luck. She had barely entered the restaurant before a stunning girl in a Little Maid’s uniform accosted her. “I’m Lishy,” she said, tossing a long strand of chestnut hair over her shoulder. “You’re Tasha. We’re having lunch.”
“Yes, we are.” Without further ado, Tasha allowed herself to be towed to the buffet line.
“First tip: try to avoid overeating. Hard to do, since the food is so good. Cook Connie is a goddess. But remember, you’re here all the time and you can always have the dessert tomorrow. I’ve had to have my uniform altered three times already and I do not plan to let it happen again,” Lishy said chattily, piling some salad onto her plate.
“Right. Thank you.”
“Unless, of course, you’re getting some regularly. Nothing burns calories quite as well as sex.” Lishy shot her a wink and Tasha giggled, liking her immediately.
“I guess not,” she said, adding a slice of bread to her plate.
Lishy frowned. “I miss carbs. But you’re new, and I guess they’re working you hard enough over in… where have you been assigned?”
“The Dungeon.”
“Oh, jackpot! It’s been six months and I still can’t decide who’s dreamier—Master Eamon or Master Dominick. Although only one of them is available.”
Tasha shot her new friend a sideways glance, praying she would continue unprompted.
Lishy didn’t disappoint. “Dominick is the epitome of a tall, dark, brooding Dom. Maddy is so lucky.”
Ah. Not sure whether she felt relief or something else at the thought that Eamon was still single, Tasha busied herself with the chicken salad. “And you?” she said. “Are you involved with anyone right now?”
“Not at the moment. I prefer to keep my options open. Oh, I play, sure, but I’m too young to tie myself to one guy,” Lishy said chattily, hustling her along the line. “Do you like seafood?”
A sudden image of Eamon and Lishy together, naked, her dark hair streaming across his broad chest, accosted Tasha and she closed her eyes against the disturbingly sexy picture. She wouldn’t ask. She couldn’t. “Fish is okay, but not a huge fan of seafood, no.”
“Me either. We can skip this section then.”
As soon as their plates were filled, Lishy hustled Tasha to a small table in the corner of the vast restaurant.
Tasha couldn’t help closely examining every male duo, still hoping against hope that she’d bump into Carmen.
“It’s a shame the Masters have their own private dining room,” Lishy said, picking up a stick of celery. “Otherwise I could point them all out for you.”
