by Maren Smith
Dominick sometimes teased him about it, suggesting he was scared of commitment. Eamon was inclined to disagree. He wasn’t scared. He was just having too much fun to want to tie himself down.
And while falling in love didn’t make any of the other, committed Masters work any less hard, or any less good at their jobs, as far as Eamon was concerned, they had all changed after meeting their significant others. Marshall, previously unflappable, was now vulnerable where Kaylee was concerned. Understandable, but still. Travis and Trevor no longer partied nearly as hard as they used to, and Eamon missed the old days, where they used to compete to see how many women they could seduce in a weekend. Kade, who’d never bedded the same girl twice, was now devoted to Chelsea. And Jackson was no longer just wrapped around Sara’s little finger but his daughter, Regan Emily’s, as well. While Eamon had to admit the little girl was completely adorable, he never saw his friend anymore—Jackson spent all his spare time in his new home, which Marshall had built behind the Castle to keep the kids away from all the debauchery.
Dominick looked up when Eamon tracked him down in one of the aftercare rooms. “Well?” he said impatiently. “Are they sending someone?”
“In a little while. Grimsley and Miranda are dealing with the new hires who arrived this morning, and the other domestics have all already been assigned other duties for the day.”
“Thank God it’s a slow morning,” Dominick said, fluffing a pillow.
Eamon bit back a smile at the sight. “For you, maybe. I have my first appointment of the day in a few minutes. Forty-six. Brunette. Newly divorced. Apparently, she’s quite the painslut.”
“Lucky you,” Dominick said drily.
“Indeed.”
“Make sure you don’t take her to that pigsty.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the station they’d just checked.
“I won’t. I was thinking stocks, a violet wand, maybe a Hitachi…”
“Just your average Thursday then.”
Eamon chortled. “Pretty much.” He turned to leave, to start getting everything ready.
“Did they give you an estimate?”
“Huh?” Eamon turned back to face Dominick.
“Any idea how long we’ll be waiting for someone to get down here and do some cleaning?”
“Nope. Said they’ll send one of the new hires as soon as orientation is done.”
“Christ. Nothing like being thrown in the deep end. Hope she’s capable.”
“If not, I’m sure we’ll whip her into shape.” Grinning at his own pun and Dominick’s exaggerated eye roll, Eamon left to prepare the station for his first appointment.
Chapter 2
This had to be, without a doubt, one of the longest—and strangest—days of Tasha’s life. And it was still only the afternoon.
Alternating between crushing boredom and sheer disbelief, she had gone through three hours of orientation, filled out reams of paperwork (lying on pretty much every page, as she didn’t understand more than half the questions and terminology), been dressed in the skimpiest maid’s outfit known to man, sat through a talk which seemed to last an ice age, and been taught CPR.
And my goodness but they took things seriously around here. One woman was dismissed on the spot for snorting in response to something Grimsley had said. That lovely girl Eden had vanished for a while sometime during the morning and returned, apparently shell-shocked, clutching what looked like a pager, before being personally removed by Grimsley during one of the interminable talks. God only knew where he’d taken her.
After witnessing those two incidents, Tasha no longer felt quite so confident about slipping away to find Carmen. Instead she decided it would be safer to fly under the radar for a bit, do as she was told without argument, and wait until an opportunity presented itself.
In other words, until she could breathe, eat, or even just sit somewhere without being watched.
Earlier, the group of men and women had been asked to identify themselves as ‘dominant’ or ‘submissive.’ On instinct, Tasha decided to go with the majority and had aligned herself with the ‘submissive’ group, even though she felt it was ridiculous to label herself that way. Meek, she was not. Nor was she weak. And for the life of her she couldn’t understand why anyone would want to go through all this hassle just for a job.
At least uniforms are provided, she thought wryly, tugging at the skirt which barely covered her ass. Just as well she wasn’t shy, else she’d have been mortified when she and the other ‘Little Maids,’ as they were called, had been taken to an enormous wardrobe, complete with attendants, and given identical black micro-skirts with white ruffles, stockings with real, actual garters, high heels, and corsets which would make an A-cup look like a C, and which made Tasha’s already generous boobs stick out like a shelf.
Instead she’d been amused at the idea that anyone would be expected to do any actual work while wearing that ensemble, especially the ridiculous shoes.
She’d also had her hair and make-up done and been given a yellow bracelet, which she was told to wear at all times. No exceptions.
At least she now knew where she was. That much she’d been able to glean from the hours and hours of being lectured.
This was the Castle, premier BDSM resort. A place for people with just about any kink to go for a vacation and to let their freak flag fly. Whole areas were dedicated to fetishes Tasha had never even heard of—and some she didn’t really want to know more about.
And now, apparently, she was a fully-fledged staff member, waiting for her first assignment.
Please don’t let them send me to the medical area, she found herself praying. Earlier, Mrs. Hardwick had actually listed how many people had done how many things to her during her first week… describing instances of rectal temperature taking, spankings, even a speculum! Even more bizarrely, she’d spoken as if she’d enjoyed the experience!
Tasha didn’t think she’d ever understand the appeal. She hadn’t missed the sheen of excitement in her fellow submissives’ eyes when Grimsley had talked about punishing naughty girls, working off demerits, or being sent to see Master Marshall, the legendary CEO of the Castle. It was rumored that no submissive ever left Master Marshall’s office without being spanked.
How could getting in trouble be exciting? How could anyone enjoy being spanked?
“You.”
She looked up to see Mrs. Hardwick pointing directly at her and swallowed, hard. “Yes, Ma’am?”
“They need someone down in the Dungeon. Please make your way there immediately and present yourself to Master Dominick or Master Eamon. Off you go.”
Dungeon? Wiping suddenly sweaty palms on her ridiculously short skirt, Tasha gave what she hoped looked like an excited nod and set off, glad she’d actually been paying attention during the tour and knew where to go.
That was where her feelings of relief ended, however. If a new hire was so thoroughly… used… during her first week in a medical bay, what on earth should she expect in a dungeon?
For as thorough as the orientation process had been, the tour had not been quite so in depth. True, they had all traipsed from place to place, led all over, from the Rainbow Room to Maybe’s candy store, but they hadn’t actually been inside all the facilities for fear of ‘disrupting play.’ So while she had been shown one of the many doors leading to the Dungeon, Tasha hadn’t actually seen inside it.
Yet.
Teetering on those stupid, uncomfortable heels, she cursed William for getting her into this mess—and immediately felt bad. He had never asked her to look out for him, or go looking for him. He hadn’t made her decide to follow Carmen on a whim, landing her in this incredible, imposing, terrifying place.
But ever since the accident, it had been just the two of them—Tasha and William—and she had vowed to protect her little brother no matter what.
Not that she could ever have imagined it would come to this.
The Dungeon lived up to its name, she realized immediately. It was
a veritable rabbit warren of dark rooms, all filled with the most ominous equipment; stocks, big crosses, chests full of God only knew what, ceiling, floor and wall hooks, ropes and chains.
She could hear a woman screaming in the distance, above the steady dripping sound of water. Unnerved, annoyed by the clacking of her heels on the stone floor, she slipped off her shoes. Wall sconces flickered, casting an eerie yellow light over everything.
In the distance, she could make out what looked like a booth and, praise be, a woman in a uniform identical to Tasha’s own was sitting there.
“I, um, I’m looking for Dominick or, er, Eamon?” she blurted out as soon as she was within urgent whispering distance.
The woman, looking thoroughly bored, pushed a lock of fiery red hair off her forehead. “You mean Master Dominick or Master Eamon?”
“Sure.”
“That way.” The redhead pointed. “You’re new, huh?”
“Is it that obvious?” Tasha tried to tug down her skirt for the millionth time.
A brief, derisive snort greeted her statement. “Yeah.” Then, “Look, Master Dominick is in a snit because someone left his precious dungeon in disarray and they’ve been waiting for you for hours. If I were you, I’d go to Master Eamon first.”
Tasha took in the maid’s uniform the redhead was wearing. “You couldn’t help them out?”
The woman snorted again and indicated where she was sitting. “Implement return booth always has to be manned. I can’t leave here.”
Deciding not to ask why not, Tasha took a deep breath. “I see. So… Master Eamon? Where do I find him?”
“First door on your left.” The other maid pointed again. “We’re not usually given proper, thorough cleaning duties but hey, it’s your first day and we seem to be seriously understaffed right now. No idea what’s going on. So if you want my advice, just do as you’re told and keep your mouth shut. Everyone’s seriously short on patience at the moment for some reason. Especially Master Dominick.” She took in the high heels swinging from Tasha’s left hand. “And while you can probably take those off while cleaning, I’d put them back on for the time being. You do not want to run into either of the Dungeon Masters barefoot. Believe me.”
“Thanks.” There was an obscenely loud clatter as Tasha dropped her shoes and slipped her already aching feet back into them. “Sorry.”
The redhead shrugged. “Believe it or not, I’d be happy to trade places with you right now. You cannot imagine how boring it is to just sit here, especially on a quiet Thursday afternoon.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’d genuinely rather do some cleaning!”
Not sure what to make of that statement—wasn’t cleaning basically the Little Maids’ job description?—Tasha forced herself to smile. “Well, thank you for the advice. Much appreciated.”
“Any time. And don’t pity me too much. No doubt you’ll be sitting here soon enough.”
Not sure whether that was a threat, Tasha stretched her smile even wider and headed in the direction she’d been told.
She knocked on the massive door, jumping almost out of her skin when a voice boomed, “Enter.”
“I, um, I’m looking for Master Eamon,” she stammered, trying—and failing—to sound confident as she pushed the heavy wood aside and made her way into the room.
A huge man turned to look at her. His dark hair was closely cropped, matching the stubble covering his square jaw. His bulging muscles were covered in tattoos, with one even winding its way up his neck. And his eyes… Tasha’s heart actually skipped a beat. The pale green of a ripe avocado, they almost seemed to be caressing her. Feeling suddenly inexplicably warm, she reached out to steady herself and found herself clutching at thin air.
“That would be me,” he said in the most delicious, gravelly voice. “And you are?” Those hypnotic green eyes bored into her.
“T-Tasha,” she stuttered, wondering whether he could see her blushing in the dim light. “I-I was sent for. To… uh…”
“To clean house.” He smiled, then, and for the first time all day, Tasha felt herself genuinely grinning back. Inanely. Like an idiot.
“I’m new,” she blurted out, always one to talk too much when she got nervous.
“I can see that. How are you liking it so far?”
Not at all… until about twenty seconds ago. “Great. Wonderful.”
His incredible smile broadened. “Orientation is boring as fuck,” he said, “but believe me, it gets better. I think you’ve survived the hardest part. Now you just have to get through your ninety day probationary period.”
Considering she was managing to retain her self-control and wasn’t already licking one of his spectacular biceps, Tasha was inclined to agree with him. What the hell was wrong with her? No man had ever incited such a visceral reaction in her. Ever. Not even her biggest unrequited crush at school. “I can only hope.”
“Well, we’d better put you to work. Dominick’s been antsy all day, waiting for someone to come and put things in order.”
“Yes, Sir.” Where the hell did that come from?
Her sudden, impromptu honorific engendered a tiny flash of appreciation in his expression before he indicated her shoes. “As sexy as those make your legs, they’re not really practical for our purposes. Little Maids don’t generally do any real cleaning around here but hey, there are always exceptions. Take them off and follow me.”
She did as she was bid with trembling fingers, trying desperately to ignore her pounding heart.
Eamon—Master Eamon, she reminded herself—turned and strode back out of the open door, leading her to another room.
“You can start here,” he said. “Take out the trash, make sure all the dispensers are filled, straighten everything out, wipe down the furniture. The garbage chute is at the end of the corridor, on the left. New bags, cleaning stuff, and everything you’ll need to refill the dispensers can be found in the stock room beside the implement return station. You’ll need a key.”
As he handed it to her, their fingers touched and she jumped as if she’d been stung.
“Hey.” He placed a huge, warm hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
“Don’t ever lie to me. It’s fine to be nervous but I promise, everything will be okay.” He patted her shoulder, once, then removed his hand. “Besides, what are you afraid of? Getting into trouble?” He chuckled as if he’d just made the biggest joke. “Isn’t that what you Little Maids live for?”
Tasha bit her lip, unsure how to reply.
He stared at her then, an unreadable expression in those piercing eyes of his. “You’d better get on with it,” he said at length. “If you come across Dominick, be sure to let him know Master Eamon said you could take off your shoes.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“I’ll be around to check on you.”
And just like that, he was gone. Tasha’s watery knees finally gave up the battle and she sank to the cold stone floor, trying unsuccessfully to regain control over her breathing.
She had never been a romantic and had never believed in love at first sight. Until she’d laid eyes on Master Eamon, Keeper of the Dungeon and, no doubt, a man with sexual appetites she couldn’t ever hope to fulfil.
Well, fuck.
Eamon was distracted. Despite his enormous to-do list, he kept finding himself hovering outside whichever room the new hire was tidying up.
And it was annoying the hell out of him.
There was just something about her, though, something that didn’t feel quite right. Was it the way she’d turned those big doe eyes on him with something akin to disbelief when he’d said cleaning duties weren’t usually in the Little Maids’ repertoire? Or the bizarre reaction she’d had to his comment about getting into trouble? In his experience, the female submissive staff always behaved the same way around him—with a combination of excitement and almost mocking deference. Whereas this one—Tasha—had just seemed… overwhelmed. Genuinel
y apprehensive. Scared, even.
Dominick had been his usual bemused self when Eamon had told him about her.
“Is she pretty?” he’d asked, quirking an eyebrow.
Eamon knew Dominick wasn’t asking for himself. He was devoted to Maddy. No, Dominick saw each female new hire as a potential challenge; each could be the one to make Eamon forget his own rule about not playing with fellow staff members.
“Yes,” Eamon had answered flatly. And she was. Shoulder-length hair, streaked in chunky, bold shades of honey and coffee, and huge brown eyes framed with long, inky lashes. A slightly upturned nose. A wide, generous mouth. And a veritable mountain of cleavage—helped along, no doubt, by the requisite Little Maid’s uniform corset, but even without it, Eamon could tell she had great tits.
In fact, she had curves in all the right places, as far as he was concerned, but that wasn’t what was distracting him. Eamon was surrounded by gorgeous women every single day and it would take more than a beautiful face or amazing body to get his attention.
Still, Tasha had done it.
But that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
“She seems… off,” he’d gone on to add, wondering whether he could even properly describe his concerns to his best friend.
“In what way?”
“Just odd. Feels out of place, somehow. It’s hard to put into words.”
“No kidding,” Dominick had said drily.
“She didn’t behave anything like Little Maids usually do.”
“How long did you spend with her, exactly?”
Eamon had shrugged. “A minute or two? Maybe a few more?”
“And she didn’t fall, naked and panting at your feet?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Good for her.” Dominick had resumed oiling one of his favorite leather straps. “And that’s probably what’s bugging you.”