Chapter Three

Dexter

The Sky Dungeon of L.A. Club Decadent Skies…

“Are you looking for a sub for the night, Master D?” Willow, a club sub, approached Dexter as soon as he entered the dungeon.

With a gentle smile, he cupped the beautiful brunette’s chin. “I already found one, subbie.” Looking around, he wiggled his eyebrows. “But I see quite a number of members eyeing you.”

“Maybe so, but I was looking forward to the scene you promised a couple of weeks ago at the NY club.”

“Patience, Willow. This is our first flight, and there will be many more. For this trip, I’m afraid I have made my selection.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Master D.” Willow’s voice dripped with a honeyed challenge as she turned and walked away, her departure a deliberate performance. Each step was a calculated seduction, with her hips swaying in a hypnotic rhythm that demanded attention. The soft rustle of her clothing and the click of her heels against the floor echoed in the charged atmosphere in a siren’s call that Dexter found impossible to ignore.

“Electrifying… that’s what women are,” Dexter mused with a broad smile spreading across his face. He was an ass man, through and through, and Willow’s retreating form was a masterpiece of temptation. Nothing excited him more than the prospect of watching a tight ass wobble and shimmy under an erotic spanking or flogging. The anticipation of such delights sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine.

Watching her join a group of eager Doms, the anticipation of scening with Violet spread like a flashfire through him to settle in a heavy throb in his groin. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced for a very long time.

“Perhaps she’s the one I’ve been searching for. The one… my very own subbie,” he muttered as his gaze swept across his newly minted domain. “Finally, here we are. The opening of my club.”

The pride in his voice was unmistakable and bathed with a hint of impatience that was finally sated. To be the owner of one of the Club Decadent Skies Airbuses had been a long-held dream, and the wait had felt interminable. Now, standing amidst the fruits of his labor, a surge of euphoric satisfaction flashed through him.

He reveled in the details of the dungeon, a space crafted to his exacting specifications. Rich copper walls gave the impression of a medieval castle’s rough-hewn stone, which was a striking backdrop for the sleek, modern equipment throughout the area. The juxtaposition was jarring yet aesthetically pleasing, creating an atmosphere both timeless and cutting-edge.

Lightweight aluminum frames supported plush black and dark emerald-colored leather padding on various pieces of equipment that caught the warm light from the sconces mounted on the walls. These fixtures, wrought in dark copper, cast a mysterious glow that danced across the surfaces, creating an ever-shifting tapestry of light and shadow.

The air was thick with the spicy aroma of arousal and sex, punctuated by the muted screams of pain and pleasure from couples already scening. Deep, taunting Dom voices provided a steady bass line to the sonata of sensations.

“Yes! This is what Club Decadent Skies is all about. Domination and submission. Consensual exploration aimed at mutual pleasure and understanding.” The timbre of his voice echoed through his mind.

He had spared no expense to ensure his club would stand out. And it did, like a beacon of decadence and desire that would draw members back week after week. Standing there and drinking in the atmosphere, Dexter felt a surge of satisfaction. The stage was set, and the players were assembled.

“All that’s missing is my own recalcitrant bratty sub,” he muttered sotto voce.

“So? Where do you want me?”

The husky voice behind him, vibrating with irritation, sent an electric current down Dexter's spine. The sassy redhead’s unfiltered annoyance thrilled him to no end. Her tone was a siren’s call that beckoned his darker instincts. Nothing pleased him more than breaking down a brat’s defenses, peeling away layer after layer until they lay bare before him. The process of dismantling this particular sub’s walls offered him a challenge he relished with every fiber of his being.

Something Spitfire, aka Violet Russo, was about to learn first-hand.

“And there she is,” he drawled in a darkening voice.

Dexter's photographic memory had been both a blessing and a curse throughout his life, but was also what had driven his success to be in the financial position to be an owner of the Club Decadent Skies group with his own GoldenEye Airbus club. He just never expected to meet the perfect sub on the maiden flight. His instinct warned him she might just be the one to clip his wings of variety for good.

“How did I know you were going to be a delight in the dungeon, Spitfire?” he murmured as he faced Violet. The words escaped his lips like a secret whispering into the wind.

Keeping his expression unchanged, Dexter reveled in the irresistible pull to her. It was like a gravity that went beyond her striking appearance. Her fiery red hair danced in the light in a cascade of silk that brazenly defied the very air around her. Her vivid green eyes were sharp, piercing, and held an intellect that sparked like a live wire. He silently accepted their unspoken challenge, which invigorated him to the depth of his wicked soul. The proud tilt of her chin was more than a display of beauty but rather a declaration of her strength and self-assurance.

His gaze lingered on her rosy lips, perfectly shaped like Cupid’s bow. A grin tugged on his mouth as she nervously flicked her tongue over them in a brief, almost imperceptible sign that betrayed her discomfit. It was a small crack in her armor, revealing that she, too, felt the electric charge between them. It pleased him to no end.

His eyes trailed over her body in blatant appreciation of her curves, each one beautifully accentuated. From the top of her head to the tip of her toes, Violet Russo was the personification of grace and poise.

Dexter acknowledged that it wasn’t only her physical allure that held him captive. It was the way her mind worked, the sharp wit and brilliant intellect that danced behind those emerald eyes. From reading the newspapers, he knew that in court, she presented herself with eloquence and unyielding logic. Violet Russo was not just beautiful; she was a force to be reckoned with.

“You’re not just a pretty face, are you, Violet?” Dexter murmured in a low and thoughtful tone. He could see the gears turning in her mind, the calculations and assessments she was making. He was intoxicated by this dance of intellects and the silent sparring of wits.

He frowned slightly, intrigued by the enigma before him. As a defense attorney, she held power and knowledge, but there was something more, something that didn’t quite add up. He could sense it, a depth and complexity that begged to be explored. His mind effortlessly recalled the videos he’d watched of the infamous court case that had cemented her success as a defense attorney in Los Angeles. The way she’d stood, poised and determined in the courtroom, had left an indelible impression. With her hard-assed and unyielding attitude in the face of corporate giants, had won her, not only the case, but also Dexter’s grudging admiration at the time. He’d been captivated as she systematically dismantled the opposition’s arguments.

Dexter made a mental note to dig deeper, to unravel the mystery that was Violet Russo.

“Whatever thoughts are running inside that head of yours, believe me, Master D, you’re wrong. I am no more than what you see standing in front of you at this very moment. A submissive willing to yield power to a very sexy Dom,” she lilted in a sultry voice, forcing him back to the present. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, as if she knew the effect she had on him.

He smiled. The little spitfire just made a big mistake by showing her hand. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips.

“Hmm, to the contrary, little one, I believe that you are a puzzle I’d very much like to solve.”

He sensed her mentally stepping back. Her eyes flickered as if she was dousing the rising attraction she felt toward him.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to work,” he said in a darkening voice. “Not in here and definitely not with me.”

Just like that, the lines had been drawn, and the game was on. The attraction between them crackled like a live wire. Violet Russo had a brilliant mind, and it was the one thing in a woman he couldn’t resist. He had no doubt she was going to fight to come out on top… but here, at Club Decadent Skies, he held the power.

No matter how drawn he was to her fierce intellect, instinct told him that dominating her would be an experience unsurpassed.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to, Master D.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I assure you, challenging you was the last thing I intended to do when I applied to attend the opening of the club.”

“And yet, here we are.” His lips twitched at her continued defiance. He was a little disappointed when she refrained from offering another spitting response.

The small bakery she had represented as her first big case had walked away with millions, transforming from a single shop into a national brand. Her victory had been more than just a legal triumph; it was a David versus Goliath story that had captured the public’s imagination and admiration.

And now, here she stood before him with the same fire burning in her eyes as she boldly challenged him in a way few dared.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he once again curled his fingers around her throat, forcing her onto her toes while maintaining eye contact. That her breath hitched when he tightened his hold filled him with devious pleasure.

“Ah, little Spitfire, it’s going to be such a pleasure watching the walls of your defenses crumbling.”

“Good luck with that, Master D. Just so you know, I’m not a rookie. In fact, I’ve been playing in the BDSM scene for many years.” Her chin drifted upward, and her eyes sharpened with unchecked defiance. “More than that, I don’t think you know what I do for a living, Sir. I don’t fold easily… in fact, unless it’s my desire to do so, I never do.”

“Hmm… challenge accepted, subbie.”

“Of course, you’ll see that as a challenge, even after I just said it’s the last thing I am here for,” she shot back indignantly. “So typical of a Dom.”

Dexter’s chuckle crawled from deep within as the beast inside him slowly stirred to life. Sparring with Violet Russo was going to be a delight.

“You’re in a BDSM club, Spitfire. If you expected to find a vanilla man in here, I have to question that number of years you’ve been… how did you word it again? Ah, yes… played in the BDSM scene.” His eyes darkened perceptively.

“So, which is it, subbie? Are you a real submissive, committed to the lifestyle and releasing the true needs within you under the care of a dominant, or are you just… playing at it for sexual kicks now and then?”

“Since you’re not giving me much of a choice, Master D, at least I am committed to completely submitting to you for tonight.”

“Submission isn’t done by choice, little one. It’s a deeply ingrained desire to be dominated. Either you desire that with your entire being, or you don’t. I have no interest in accommodating a forced or half-hearted sub for the weekend, so stop wasting my time. Which are you? A true submissive… or a fake?”

He tightened his fingers and forced her onto her toes.

“Don’t even think of going there, subbie.” Dexter didn’t have to elaborate. The flash in her eyes was indicative of her realizing that he was onto her, and he wouldn’t consider releasing her from the claim he had made on her by lying about her true nature as a submissive.

“I can’t breathe,” she gasped as she clawed at his hands.

“If you couldn’t, you wouldn’t be able to speak,” he shot down her plea. “I’m waiting, subbie.”

“I’m…” She swallowed as she visibly strained to calm herself. He was grudgingly proud of her for refusing to back down in the face of his growing anger. “I’m not a fake.”

“I didn’t believe you to be.” His grasp didn’t relax as he continued to stare at her for long, quiet moments. Within that short span of time, he drank in her beauty, her resilient confidence, and the brat hovering in the background, ready to pounce the moment there was an opportunity.

Of course, he wasn’t a Dom who would deny her such pleasure, and he made a mental note to ensure there would be many opportunities for her to dig a hole for herself. One, he would gladly help her out of… with the appropriate punishments, of course.

“Since we have consensus now, shall we proceed with our scene?”

“We haven’t discussed a scene.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re an attorney, Miss Russo, which is why I assume that you studied every aspect of the contract, the NDA, and the club protocols when you applied.”

“Of course, I did.”

“Then your response bears no weight.” His voice darkened perceptively. “I believe you require a lesson in restraint.” He gestured to the platform in the center of the dungeon, where a bright spotlight marked the spot. “I want you up there… naked, if you please.” His eyes drifted to her bright red painted toenails encased in silver strappy stilettos.

“Except for those fuck me shoes. Keep them on.”