"Sorry, I was miles away. Yes?" Dominick turned to the new in-staff Masters, Eric and Reeve. They were still in training; Marshall was anal about making sure his Dominant staff had learned all they could about all aspects of BDSM before they were actually allowed to play with real guests. A lot of that learning was done hands-on, with the established Masters guiding, teaching and testing the newbies.
"Breath play," Eric said. "We've done the class but we need more practice sessions. We were wondering whether you had any free time."
"It's a tricky one," Dominick mused. "Lots of people are terrified of it. I guess you could always practice on each other. I'd be happy to supervise."
Eric and Reeve exchanged nervous glances. "But… we're Tops!" Reeve said, incredulously.
"We're men!" Eric added.
Everyone else in the room chuckled. Dominick merely raised an eyebrow. "So?"
"So… I thought we'd practice on girls."
"You're not allowed to practice on guests, are you?" Without waiting for a response, Dominick continued. "So unless any of these lovely Ladies present would like to volunteer… it's each other or nothing."
Hope flaring in their eyes, Eric and Reeve glanced at Kaylee, Sara, Chelsea, Hannah, Sinclair and Selena in turn. As one, the girls shook their heads, to the delighted amusement of the other Masters sitting around the table.
"Besides," Dominick said, reaching out to pour himself a glass of water, "the best way to learn anything is by experience. You both have necks and lungs, don't you? We've all tried things out on each other—or ourselves. How could I possibly claim to be an authority on the bullwhip if I didn't know, first-hand, what it feels like? He," he pointed at Trevor, "likes to set girls on fire. You think he's never tried it on himself?"
"Actually, he tried it on me," Travis said, grinning. "Took all the hair off my arm. Much easier on freshly waxed skin." He wrinkled his nose. "Smells better, too."
Ignoring the bellows of laughter, Dominick nodded. "I think you'll find," he once again addressed the two newest Masters, "that Marshall here will never let you loose amongst the guests unless you've experienced what being on the receiving end of most things we do feels like."
"Correct," Marshall said, his pale blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
"So come see me at four this afternoon, and I'll spend an hour or so watching you both strangle each other."
"Oh," Selena gasped, wiping the mirth from her eyes, "I would love to see that. May I, please, Sir?" she asked, turning to Bill.
"No!" Eric and Reeve said in unison.
"Christ," Selena went on, still giggling, "It looks like we now have two sets of twins!"
Eric and Reeve both glared at her. "We're not related," they said, in identical offended tones, to more shrieks of laughter.
"All right, bugger off you lot, we have a Castle to run," Marshall said, lightly. "You know where I am if you need me."
As Dominick drained his water and got up from the table, he couldn't repress a sudden surge of hope that today would be the day where a pretty little painslut came barging into the dungeon, threw herself at his feet and begged him to make her suffer in all the ways he enjoyed the most. Alas, he was well aware of how unlikely that was. Instead he would be doing what he usually did… supervising guests' scenes, teaching people how to exert control and deliver pain safely, being held up as the Bogeyman for naughty slaves—and now, watching two ex-soldiers choke each other. Don't be so fucking ungrateful, he told himself sternly. You love this place and you love your job. Even if you don't get to play out your own twisted fantasies all the time, this is a million times better than any other place you've ever worked. At the memory of his last desk job, he suppressed a shudder and, squaring his shoulders, set off back to his room to get changed into his dungeon attire.
Chapter Two
Janice was toying with the froth on top of her Mocha, only half-listening as Ellen chattered away opposite her in the staff break room. His eyes are the same colour, she thought, stirring the rich, brown liquid. Just the memory of that intensely dark gaze settling on her was enough to send a tendril of wanton longing snaking to her loins. Unable to stop herself, she shivered.
"All right, spill it, girlfriend," Ellen reached out and tapped Janice's hand. "Who is it?"
"Who's who?"
"Don't play all coy with me. You've got a crush on someone. You have for weeks."
Janice took a huge gulp of Mocha to hide her surprise, then winced when it burned her tongue. "What makes you say that?" she spluttered.
"I'd be a pretty crappy best friend if I didn't notice something that obvious," Ellen countered, tossing her long, glossy hair over one shoulder. "And I meant what I said earlier. Either you tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, or I'll find a way to make you."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Oh, really?" Ellen raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Try me."
"It's not a crush," Janice muttered. "It's… it's hard to describe."
"Try me," Ellen said again.
"Oh for fuck's sake. Fine. God, it's like being friends with a member of the Spanish Inquisition."
"Nah." Ellen grinned. "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition."
Janice laughed. Their mutual love of everything Monty Python was one of many things the two girls had in common—which was why they had clicked instantly; becoming fast friends almost the very day Ellen had started to work at the Salon, across the way from where Janice worked in Wardrobe.
"So it's not a crush. But I wasn't far off, was I? Tell me!"
Janice took a deep breath. "Remember a few weeks ago, when you were away visiting your relatives?"
"Yes…"
"Well, I had a day off. And I was bored. So I thought I'd head down to the dungeon to watch a scene or two. See some of my handiwork in action, so to speak…"
"Yeah," Ellen rolled her eyes. "That's why you went down there. To look at the costumes."
"Shut up," Janice said, grinning. "Okay, so it wasn't just to look at the costumes. Like I said earlier; it's been a while since I last played, and I thought I'd take the opportunity to… oh I don't know, live vicariously through someone else."
"In other words, you were feeling horny."
Janice blushed. "I guess."
"Nothing to be ashamed of. We don't stop having needs and desires just because we work here. Go on!"
"I watched a scene there and realized just how much I've been missing it… the pain, the pleasure, the lack of control… all of it." Janice shrugged. "That's all."
"Who was playing?"
"Does it matter?"
"To me it does. You know I'm notoriously curious. Okay then, was it the scene itself or the participants tickling your fancy?"
Janice shrugged again. "Bit of both, I suppose."
"What were they doing?"
"Break time is over." Janice pointed at the huge clock on the staff room wall. "Anyway, what they were doing isn't important. It just… oh, I don't know. I kind of had a breakthrough; realized that there's something I really, really want to try." And exactly the man I'd like to try it with.
"Aww," Ellen patted her friend's arm. "Poor little Cinderella, always making everyone else look gorgeous but never going to the ball herself."
"Don't be silly." Janice got up and drained the rest of her Mocha. "I don't do pity parties. Anyway, we should get going."
"Fine, I'll leave it there for now," Ellen grumbled, getting to her feet. "We going to the gym tomorrow morning?" She lifted a perfectly toned, slender arm and flexed her bicep. "I always have to be ultra-careful at this time of year. So much temptation in December. Although," she shot a cheeky smile at Janice, "I still believe you're craving a particular man more than chocolate right now."
"No man could ever be better than chocolate," Janice responded tartly. "I’ll meet you there at eight."
As she headed back to Wardrobe, she suppressed another shiver of longing at the memory of that evening in the dungeon. The Master
had been so detached, so in control, so menacing as he'd reduced his victim to a screaming, gasping, sodden puddle of orgasmic bliss. Vanilla men don't know what they're missing out on, she thought with a smile. The way I feel when a man's dominating me… controlling my body like he owns it… it doesn't even begin to compare to any of the mainstream sexual encounters I've ever had.
As she began to unwrap the freshly laundered costumes from their plastic sheaths and hang them back in the relevant sections of the Wardrobe, Janice wondered how Ellen would have reacted had she told her the actual truth. The reason why that scene in the dungeon had so captivated her. The thing that she'd never experienced, not in two years of working in a fantasy BDSM resort, but that she'd always, always wanted to. She simply hadn't known it yet…
Janice pushed back her brown hair and sighed. She'd always had a spanking fetish—ever since she could remember, anyway. And once she'd actually been brave enough to step out into the big wide world and attend munches and events with like-minded people, she'd soon discovered that she was a bit of a masochist, as well. She'd been bent over, bottom bared and teeth clenched a number of times; with a firm hand, wooden paddle, whippy riding crop or even a nasty cane being applied vigorously to her backside… and no matter how much it had hurt, or who the Top had been, she'd left with a gnawing, unfulfilled ache deep inside her. And soaking wet panties. Until she'd been in the dungeon that day, she'd never twigged exactly what it was she'd been missing. And now that she knew, she wondered whether she'd ever be brave enough to ask for it.
***
Master Dominick suppressed a yawn as the man standing opposite him droned on and on. He'd heard it all a thousand times before.
"I don't actually want you to whip her," he was saying, earnestly, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Just frighten her a bit. She's terrified of the whip, is my wife. Maybe you could crack it once or twice, make that wonderful noise?"
"Actually, if applied correctly, the bullwhip can be easier to take than several other implements—depending on severity and force of application, of course," Dominick said. "Including the cane. A lighter flick with the tip of a whip is far less intense than a hard cane stroke across the naked bottom."
"And don't touch her anywhere. With your hands, I mean," the man continued, as if Dominick hadn't even spoken.
The Castle Dungeon Master was growing irritated. "How about my tongue? Or my dick?"
"Good golly, no. No, no, no," the man replied with a frown. "Just do what we agreed. Leave the touching to me. After all, she is my wife!"
"Lucky you," Dominick said, barely able to conceal his sarcasm as he glanced over his shoulder to where the woman was absent-mindedly scratching her nose. Reaching for his trademark leather hood, he tugged it over his head. "Was that all, or do you have any other questions?"
"I don't think so. Just what we already discussed… you come in and act all scary, and then when she's cowering against me, let me take over. Once I've started…" the man actually blushed to the tip of his receding hairline, "you know… touching her, then you can discreetly leave us to it."
Biting his tongue, Dominick managed to restrict his response to a firm nod, then he squared his shoulders and turned around to face the woman—who, in all actuality, seemed far less frightened of him than her husband obviously was. Let the show begin, he thought, letting his lip curl into a sneer and narrowing his eyes. "Your husband tells me you've been a naughty girl," he growled, brandishing the bullwhip. "Now, what do you think should happen to naughty girls like you?"
A very short time later, having closed the private door behind the frantically necking couple, Dominick made his rounds through the rest of the dungeon, his eagle eye roving over every piece of equipment, every hook, coil of rope, and checking in on the scenes taking place in the public spaces. A lean young man was licking his Mistress's boots while she raked over his scalp with long, pointed fingernails, and in another corner, a young woman was on her knees, enthusiastically sucking one man's cock while another stood behind her, tapping her upturned backside encouragingly with a switch.
It had been too long since anyone had sucked him off, Dom thought ruefully, feeling himself harden just at the thought of it. Since he'd had any kind of sex, come to think of it. Maybe that was why he'd been feeling so tense and tired lately.
The door to the last private chamber was ajar, so he pushed it open to make sure it had been cleaned and re-equipped properly.
Twin Masters Travis and Trevor both glanced over at him in surprise. The middle-aged woman lying spread-eagled on a table between them had less restraint. As soon as she saw Dominick, she raised her head. "Two men, I said," she exclaimed, loudly, "I don't want three."
Trevor, standing behind her, rolled his eyes.
"You left the door open," Dominick said, by way of explanation. "I do apologize."
"Not a problem." Travis grinned. "We haven't actually started yet." He ripped open a condom packet with his teeth. "Sure you don't wanna join in?" Then, as the woman opened her mouth to protest, "Oh shush, sweetheart, I was only kidding."
"I'm not paying you to kid around," the woman snapped. She twisted around to look at Trevor. "And don't pull my hair that hard again. I don't like it."
Biting back his laughter at Trevor's pained expression, Dominick backed through the archway, pulling the heavy wooden door firmly shut after him. Slumping against it, he took a deep breath and shoved a hand through his thick hair. Is there anyone left in this place who doesn't top from the fucking bottom? Christ, what's a guy got to do to get a real, submissive fucking painslut around here? They can't all be taken, surely?
"You okay?"
Dominick looked up to see Eric and Reeve standing in front of him, grinning. He didn't return their smiles. "Good," he said curtly. "I'm in the mood to throttle someone. Follow me."
***
"Are you actually going to lift that, or are you going to stare at it?"
Janice jumped. "I hate working out," she retorted, sliding her ankles half-heartedly under the padded black bar.
Ellen looked like a fitness model, clad in hot pink lycra, her cheeks flushing a pretty rose to match her outfit as she worked the thigh press diligently. "I love it."
"Then there's something wrong with you." With a grimace, Janice pushed a stray curl from her face and began her set. She always felt so plain and dowdy beside her friend; especially today, as her usual workout clothes were in the laundry and she was, therefore, wearing a hastily-grabbed combination of black tracksuit pants and a wrinkled t-shirt which read, 'For God's sake don't give me any drugs'.
"Why do you come to the gym with me, then?"
"Because you make me."
"I do no such thing! I merely ask whether you would like to accompany me!"
"Ellen, honey, I love you, but you never 'merely ask' anything. Don't think you ever have once in your life. And besides…" Janice trailed off as she caught sight of the man who had just stalked into the gym.
He was huge; his dark eyes blazing, his wide mouth set in a grim line, his dark hair tousled and, when he tugged off his shirt, she found herself biting her lip at the sight of his ripped, honed stomach. Idly she wondered whether his cock was as wide around as the rest of him… then, when Ellen flapped a hand in front of her face, she pulled herself together and looked away, certain she was scarlet.
"Oh. My. God. It's him, isn't it? He's the one!" Ellen looked from Janice, to the man, then back to Janice again. "I would never have thought… not in a million years, that of all the men here in the Castle, Master—"
"Don't say his name," Janice hissed, resuming her thigh curls in double time. "It's not him, okay?"
"Is, too!" Ellen whistled. "Well, well, well. Now I really am gonna need all the sordid details." She shook her head. "I knew you were a bit of a maso, but jeez Louise, not that much!"
I should have stayed in bed, Janice thought grimly, staring at the floor. "It's not what you think," she mumbled instead. "Look, can we just drop it?"
"Sweetheart, I'm sorry." Ellen laid a perfectly manicured hand on her arm. "I love you. I'm only teasing. Do you want to go?"
"Yeah, I think I will. Don't feel as though you have to come with me, though. I know you're very particular about your routine."
"This is way more important." Ellen slid off the machine, wiping it down with a towel. "Come on, let's go to my room and really talk about this."
As Janice picked up her own towel and water bottle, the man turned and looked at her. Humiliatingly slowly, his eyes travelled up and down the length of her body before returning to meet hers. Then, he gave her a lazy, predatory smile. Flushing to the roots of her hair, she spun on her sneakered heel and hotfooted it out of the gym.
A short while later, they were back in Ellen's room. Janice hadn't said a word; when Ellen had offered her a coffee or 'a stiff one', she'd merely shaken her head and sat down on the edge of the bed, still reeling.
Never, not in all the books she'd read or the films she'd watched, had she ever imagined that a simple eye-meet could have such an impact on her loins. Just the memory of those intense, dark eyes on hers, looking at her with such detachment, turned her desire to liquid, and she found herself digging her fingers into her thighs in an attempt to quell the pulsing need between them.
"All right, sunshine," Ellen said bossily, setting two mugs of coffee down on the table in front of them. "I've been patient enough. You are going to tell me what the hell's going on now, whether you like it or not."
"I-I can't," Janice whispered. "It's too embarrassing."
"Fine. Have it your way. I don't like resorting to threats, but for you I'll make an exception." Then, as Janice simply stared at her, wide-eyed, Ellen shrugged. "I asked Master Marshall. He said you're still owed time off and you're welcome to take part in the auction if you want."
"What? No! I don't want to take part in the auction!"
When The Gavel Falls (Masters of the Castle) Page 2
