by Maren Smith
Lishy shrugged. “Best chances of finding a suitable candidate to serve, I guess. Guests who have a hard time matching up, or who chose not to be matched up with anybody specific can find a play partner there.”
Tasha’s mind was racing. An hour. She could do an hour with Carmen. Or his bodyguard, servant, whatever he was. She could pretend not to want to kill him for an hour. Long enough to get the information she needed. “So what kind of misdeeds will get you a demerit?” she said quietly.
“Being late. Being out of uniform. Being disrespectful to someone.” Lishy shrugged again. “Depends on the Master and his mood, really. Demerits give the Little Maids something to do and the Castle guests something to enjoy, so they’re a pretty common occurrence.”
“Would you like me to work off one of your demerits for you?” Tasha asked suddenly. “As a thank you for being so kind to the new girl?” Please say yes.
Lishy peered at her, the suspicion obvious in her hazel eyes. Then her beautiful features lit up. “I get it! You finally had your play cherry popped, didn’t you? Let me guess… you loved it so much, you’re hoping to get another round.”
Tasha was suddenly unable to look at her. “Maybe,” she said slowly.
“Who did the honors? Was it Master Dominick? Master Eamon? Someone else? What exactly happened?”
“If you don’t want me to join you in the Rainbow Room, I need to get down there.” Tasha pointed to the closed door leading to the Dungeon. “Maybe we can catch up later.”
Lishy bit her lip, obviously torn. “I don’t think we’re allowed to work off demerits for each other.”
“That’s okay,” Tasha said, as casually as she could despite the crushing disappointment in her chest. “I don’t think anyone would find out—after all, you yourself said Master Grimsley’s been distracted lately—but we can play it safe if you prefer. Like I said, we can get together and talk later instead.”
Maybe it was better that way anyway. For one thing, it would be hard to concentrate on finding Carmen with Lishy attached to her side, and for another, she was keen to see Master Eamon again. She’d felt terrible about sneaking out that morning but, worried she’d get into trouble for not sleeping in her own bed, she’d been unwilling to risk making it worse by being late for the morning inspection.
Had she known about the demerits thing earlier, she may well have simply rolled over and snuggled up against his huge, warm chest.
Lishy was still chewing her lip. “I don’t want to risk it,” she said eventually. “It’s a really sweet offer but there are different levels of trouble and I don’t want to lose my job.”
“Neither do I. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was that serious a rule.”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure that it is,” Lishy confessed, “but I’d rather not risk it.”
“Understood.” Tasha once again reached for the door handle. “Have fun, I’ll see you later.”
“I’m still going to find out where you were last night,” Lishy called out as Tasha tugged open the door and descended the stairs.
“I’ll tell you later!” Tasha tossed back over her shoulder, gripping the banister as she navigated the steep steps in her heels.
In just a few moments, she would see Master Eamon again. Just the thought was enough to make her heart pound and her mouth go dry. Just what was it about him that made her so—
She felt him before she heard him. Distracted by her thoughts, Tasha had descended the last step and walked straight into a huge man-chest. It was so hard, it could have been hewn out of granite.
“Hey,” said a deep voice. “You need to watch where you’re going, little girl.”
Taking a step back, she tilted her head to look at him. “Sorry,” she said breathlessly. The man had light brown eyes, dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Her eyes wandered lower, taking in the broad shoulders, bulging arms, flat stomach and… oh God, the whip coiled at his belt. This must be him. Master Dominick himself.
“You’re new,” he said. Something about the way he was looking at her made her skin prickle.
“I am.”
“Tasha?”
How does he know my name? “Yes. You’re Master Dominick, right?”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “Nice to know my reputation still precedes me.”
“I’m sorry I bumped into you, but I have to go,” she said hastily, suddenly desperate to get away from his coolly assessing gaze. “Master Eamon is no doubt expecting me.”
“It’s Master Eamon’s day off,” Dominick said.
“Oh. He never mentioned that.”
Dominick arched a dark brow. “He probably wasn’t aware he had to inform you of his comings and goings,” he said tartly.
Crap. Too late, Tasha realized she’d goofed. “That’s not… I didn’t mean—”
To her astonishment, Dominick chuckled. “Don’t look so frightened, little girl. I was messing with you. I know you spent the night with him.”
“How?” Did they have hidden cameras everywhere? Oh, God, had Eamon told him? She wasn’t sure which would be worse.
Dominick’s handsome features contorted into a frown. He seemed to be considering something for a moment before he replied. “He told me in the gym this morning.”
“Oh,” Tasha said. His intent gaze was making her more and more uneasy.
“So are you here to work, or are you simply looking for Master Eamon?”
“Work,” she said quickly.
“Good.” Dominick’s entire face lit up when he smiled, a sharp contrast to his previous, darkly brooding expression. “You’ve done an excellent job so far, especially considering regular and thorough cleaning is not really part of your job description. I’ll be sure to mention it to Master Grimsley.”
“Thank you.” For the umpteenth time, she wondered what her actual job description entailed. Waving a duster around and looking pretty?
“Follow me. I’ll show you where I’d like you to start.” Without waiting for a reply, he spun on his heel and prowled off down the corridor, his long legs eating up the distance.
Tasha had to scuttle to keep up with him, especially in those impractical shoes.
“How are you enjoying the Castle so far?” he asked, flinging open a door to reveal an exceptionally untidy aftercare room. “Is it all your hopes and dreams combined?”
Staring in dismay at the chaos, certain she’d left that very same room spick and span just yesterday, Tasha nodded absently. “It is.”
Dominick leaned close, his eyes suddenly intense, pinning her in place without him so much as laying a finger on her. “I wonder, is your lack of proper address intentional?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m a Master of this Castle—a senior one, at that. You’re a brand new Little Maid. You should be addressing me as Master Dominick, or Sir, at the very least.”
Crap. How did she keep forgetting that? “I’m sorry. Sir,” she added hastily.
“Yes. Like that. So, do you neglect to use honorifics on purpose?” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you that desperate to get punished? Or is it simply a case of forgetting?”
Tasha’s heart was suddenly pounding under his close scrutiny. What to say? She couldn’t possibly admit that she genuinely forgot, could she? She opened her mouth to speak, found it impossibly dry, swallowed, and tried again. “I… Um. I’m sorry, Sir. I just like… being disciplined.” She had to force the last two words out, hating the lie even as a part of her wondered whether it didn’t actually contain a kernel of truth. She’d enjoyed what Master Eamon had done with the belt…
“I see.” He was still watching her like he was an owl and she a mouse. “What kind of discipline do you like?”
“Um.” Her mind went blank. What was it with these Masters and their constant, probing questions about her preferences?
“Do you like being spanked? Paddled? Cropped? Strapped?” He fingered the nasty looking coiled whip at his side. “Whipped?” His voice was low,
dangerous. “Just tell me and I’d be happy to oblige.”
Was he seriously threatening to whip her? With that? They were still in the doorway to the aftercare room and she found herself backing up against the jamb, trying to make herself as small as possible to put some distance between them. “I… er…”
“Or is pain not really your thing? Do you prefer tasks? Demerits? Being scolded?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing like a small child that if she could no longer see him, he’d actually disappear.
His chuckle reverberated through her entire being. “Never mind,” he said easily, straightening up as though they had been discussing the weather. “Keep forgetting to address me properly and I’ll find out soon enough. And then I’ll be sure to punish you in other ways instead.”
Evil. The man was pure evil. And she’d thought Master Eamon was scary.
“In the meantime, you’d better get cracking. Lots to do.” He indicated the messy room with a broad sweep of his huge arm.
She finally found her voice. “Yes, Sir,” she said hastily, sliding past him and tugging the rumpled sheets off the mattress. “Thank you, Sir.”
“That’s better,” he said coolly before turning and leaving her alone at last.
She sagged against the nearest wall and ran a trembling hand through her hair. This couldn’t continue. She was pretending to be someone she wasn’t—pretending to have a job she didn’t actually have, for God’s sake—and she just knew it wouldn’t be much longer before she was found out and thrown out on her ear. Or worse.
Not to mention she still hadn’t got any closer to finding Carmen. He’d brought luggage with him, so she’d figured he would be staying for a night or two, at least, but what if his visit was really short? What if he’d left already? While it would be a stretch to track him down in a place as vast as the Castle, it was still a damn sight easier than trying to find him anywhere else. And here she was, wasting her time cleaning rooms which would only be messy again within hours—when she wasn’t selfishly luxuriating in her inexplicable desire for Master Eamon.
She was the worst sister in the world. With a sudden rush of guilt and frustration, she kicked a nearby trash can, sending it—and its contents—flying. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she bit her lip, trying to hold them back.
This wasn’t the time for self-pity or self-loathing. She had to come up with a plan, and fast.
Chapter 10
After an intense session in the gym, Eamon had gone back up to his apartment, taken a long, refreshing shower, and sat on his bed for some time, finally allowing himself to mull things over.
Constantly refusing to properly analyze his feelings, doubts and insecurities was, after all, getting him nowhere. And Dominick was absolutely right—his mind was no longer on his job, which was a problem for two reasons: first, because he absolutely loved it at the Castle and had no intention of getting fired, and second, because he put clients at risk if he was distracted during sessions. What if he missed a signal or a safeword? Just the thought was enough to make him feel ill.
The coffee mug and brandy glass Tasha had used the previous night were still sitting on the breakfast bar but otherwise there was no sign that she’d spent the night. God only knew how she’d managed to get back into that fancy gown all by herself but then again, she’d been able to take it off without any help from him.
Rubbing his eyes, he forced himself not to get distracted by thinking about her naked. He needed a clear head, some kind of plan going forward. The best way to do that was to write things down in bullet points—at least, that usually worked for him. Reaching over to get a notepad and pencil from his nightstand, he set the paper on his knee and began to jot down the main issues as they came to him.
1. Self-control.
He needed to figure out why he was so unable to control himself whenever Tasha was around. Eamon was big on control. He got paid to be in control, for fuck’s sake. And he hated the raw, visceral reactions she evoked in him—or rather, his inability to maintain his composure in the face of them.
2. Suspicions about Tasha.
If Dominick didn’t get off his ass soon and help him form a second opinion, Eamon was going to have to go to the top—to Marshall himself. Because without trust, there could be no relationship, and right now, while he desired Tasha with every fiber of his being, he didn’t trust her completely. She was hiding something from him. He was absolutely certain of it. The problem was, he had no idea what, or how bad it was.
His fingers tightened around the pencil as he went back over that last little train of thought. Relationship? Where the fuck had that come from? He wasn’t seriously considering a relationship with Tasha, was he?
Resisting the urge to go and get a beer—it was still only mid-morning, for Christ’s sake—he took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to relax. Only after his neck had popped with a loud crack did he cave and write down the next point.
3. Would a relationship be so bad?
Truth be told, he didn’t know. He’d always been terrified of the thought of tying himself down to just one woman. Then again, it seemed to work well for so many of his friends, even one-time legendary playboys like Travis and Trevor, Kade, Reeve, and Alan. None of them had ever voiced any regrets about meeting their partners—at least, not to Eamon. In fact, they seemed happier than they’d ever been. So why was the mere idea enough to make him want to run a mile? Surely it couldn’t just be because he didn’t want to admit that Dominick had been right when he’d said it would happen to him too? They enjoyed some friendly rivalry when it came to things like how much they could bench or how well they could intimidate submissives but even so, he was fairly certain he wouldn’t deny himself a woman he really desired just because he didn’t want to admit he’d been wrong.
Letting out a deep sigh, he scrubbed his face with his hand and looked back down at the notepad. As he’d suspected, things didn’t seem quite so overwhelming when they were laid out in his admittedly untidy scrawl. Just three little lines. The first he could work on, especially after he’d addressed the second. And as for the third… well, it was far too early to even think about anything like that yet, right? Besides, that also had to wait until he’d got to the bottom of point number two.
So there it was. Before moving forward, he had to find out once and for all what Tasha was hiding.
After that… well, he’d just have to wait and see.
Tugging on his trademark black leather pants and sleeveless t-shirt, he laced up his boots and headed down to the Dungeon. A traitorous little voice inside him asked whether he wasn’t really going there to see if Tasha had been assigned to work there again, but he quickly quashed it. The place was big enough, and he was going to see Dominick. Chances were, even if she was there, he’d be able to avoid running into her.
If he couldn’t find the Dungeon Master, he’d go straight up to see Marshall. Or, he reconsidered, he’d go up after lunch. He’d skipped breakfast and the smells emanating from the kitchens as he passed them were mouthwatering.
Eamon was equal parts relieved and disappointed when Dominick cornered him the moment he set foot in the Dungeon.
“Good,” Dominick said in a low voice, “I was just coming to find you. You saved me a trip.”
“You’re welcome,” Eamon said drily.
“I met her. We need to talk.” Dominick glanced over his shoulder. “Not here. She’s on duty back there.”
The last time Eamon had seen her, she’d been curled up naked against him, her soft skin like satin against his, her boldly streaked hair streaming like a silk curtain over his arm. He swallowed. “Where then?”
Dominick shrugged. “You hungry?”
Five minutes later, they were in the buffet restaurant, opting not to eat in the private dining room for fear of unwanted company. The senior Masters were constantly going in and out of there, often accompanied by their various submissives. It was not the place to hold a one on one conv
ersation.
“Okay,” Eamon said, picking up the club sandwich he’d grabbed. “So you met her.”
“I did and, I hate to admit it but you’re right,” Dominick said. “There’s something off about her. At the very least, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was a complete newbie to the lifestyle.”
“As in: vanilla?”
“Even if not, I can assure you she’s never set foot in a BDSM venue before last Thursday, or had many—if any—interactions in real life. Has she mentioned an ex of some kind? Dom? Daddy? Kinky boyfriend?”
Eamon chewed, the delicious sandwich turning to sawdust in his mouth. He swallowed before replying, “Nope. I mean, she wasn’t a virgin in the traditional sense, but aside from that… If she ever did have anyone kinky, she’s never mentioned any training, preferences, nothing.”
Dominick picked up his water bottle. “Little tendencies?”
“Honestly? I think there’s something there, just based on the way she’s reacted to a couple of my casual comments. But she’d never admit to them. In fact, I get the feeling she has no idea about age-play.”
Setting down his half-eaten burger, Dominick frowned. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Marshall would never hire a complete newbie, especially not as a Little Maid. Or, even if he did take leave of his senses and hired one, I can’t imagine he’d just send her out to work without at least warning the other members of staff—or getting us to introduce her to various elements of what she’ll be exposed to before she plays with guests. I’ve known the guy for well over a decade and there’s no way he’d put his reputation on the line, risk her well-being or the guest experience in that manner.”
Even though he’d only taken one bite of his sandwich, Eamon pushed his plate away. He suddenly felt ill. “I took a belt to her yesterday. Christ, do you think it was her first ever time?”
Dominick narrowed his eyes. “I fucking hope not, but even if so, this is her fault for deceiving us. Because, let’s face it, if we’re right, she has no business being employed here. And if that’s the case, it begs the question: why is she here? And how did she get in without having to go through the usual channels for staff or guests?”
