Chapter Six

Dexter

Moonstone Beach, Santa Catalina Island, Channel Islands, CA…

“Do you always book out entire resorts for weekend club flights?”

Dexter was amused at Violet looking around in awe at the luxury surrounding them as they entered the cool main lobby of the Blue Paradise Beach Resort.

“This is a private mini resort, which I own, predominantly to accommodate overnight stays for our club trips.”

His gaze followed hers as he also appreciated their surroundings. The late afternoon sun streamed through the two-story windows, casting warm patterns across the polished limestone floors. The space opened up like a giant seashell, with curved walls in shades of azure and cream that seemed to spiral upward to the domed skylight.

A cascading water feature trickled down one wall. The rippling sound mixed pleasantly with the distant ocean waves. The curved reception desk, crafted from backlit onyx, glowed softly in the natural light. Oversized white orchids and birds of paradise arrangements added tropical touches without being kitschy.

He smiled at her expression.

“Every Club Decadent Skies owner across the different states owns one or two mini resorts. Max DuPont, the primary founder of the group, owns five islands in various locations that are available for our use as well. Membership doesn’t come cheap because we offer luxury, relaxation, and privacy.”

“Sounds somewhat overindulgent to me,” she murmured as she ran a finger along the smooth surface of a marble side table.

“Says the woman who paid an exorbitant price as a visitor just to attend the opening of the club.” Chuckling, he tapped her on the chin. “To each his own, right? No one forces anyone to join our clubs, but those who do, know beforehand what they pay for and can expect.”

“I’m not judging you; it’s just way more than I expected,” Violet said with her head tilted back to take in the scenery.

Dexter observed Violet’s expression soften slightly as she attempted to clarify her position. Before he could respond, a familiar voice rang through the lobby.

“Master D!” Shakira Withers, the resort manager, all five-foot-ten of toned elegance, swept toward him with the grace of a dancer. Her enthusiastic embrace was typical—full-bodied and lingering.

He returned it briefly, noting with surprise Violet’s subtle shift in posture from the corner of his eye.

“Finally, the day has arrived. Welcome to Blue Paradise… your home away from home, where all your kinkiest fantasies come to life.”

“Well-rehearsed, Shakira.” He surveyed the space with approval. “You’ve exceeded expectations. The atmosphere is exactly what I envisioned.”

“Your design concepts were impeccable. I simply brought them to life,” she said as she shrugged off the praise.

“Which is precisely why I trusted you with the execution.” He caught Violet’s slight eye roll at Shakira’s hands still trailing over his chest.

“You should really have visited sooner,” Shakira cooed as her tone dropped an octave. “We could have ensured all the equipment was properly… calibrated.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, give me a break,” Violet muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Dexter to hear. He noticed her jaw tighten and her fingers drum against her thigh in a telltale sign of irritation at Shakira’s comment. In it, he also had detected the unspoken, yet unsubtle proposition to scene with him during the visit.

Dexter felt Violet’s minuscule shift in position as she pressed her breasts against his arm in an unmistakably possessive gesture—a silent message of ‘he’s mine’ to the tall woman facing them.

The movement caught him off guard since it was markedly different from her previous reserved demeanor. Despite their intense scene on the plane, she’d maintained a certain emotional distance that made this sudden territorial display all the more intriguing.

His instincts, honed through years of reading people in both business and pleasure, sparked a warning. The contradiction between her earlier reluctance and this possessive display raised a red flag he couldn’t ignore. Something about her wasn’t quite adding up. While his attraction to her was undeniable, the protective beast within him urged caution. Violet Russo had something up her sleeve. No matter how attracted he was to her, Dexter always followed his gut… and this time, it warned him to tread carefully.

“Be nice, Spitfire,” he addressed the mumbled aside of earlier but ignored the sharp look she shot at him. “I’d like to go over the agenda for the weekend after breakfast, Shakira. For now, my sub and I are heading to my cabana.”

“Of course, Master D.” Shakira's professional mask slipped seamlessly into place. “I've taken the liberty of having refreshments prepared for you.”

Dexter wasn’t oblivious to the disappointment in her voice when she realized he had committed to one submissive for the trip. The irony wasn’t lost on him since he rarely limited his options, preferring the freedom to explore variety. That he had claimed the one submissive on the Airbus III who sparked suspicion as to her motives for being there for the entire trip was beyond comprehension.

Except the thought of watching another Dom enjoying the pleasures of her luscious body had been more of a challenge than locking his choker around her throat.

“Excuse me.” Violet’s ice-cold tone halted his stride. He raised an eyebrow, deliberately toying with the chain—a restriction she had very loudly objected to as they left the plane—while awaiting her outburst. “The fee I paid included my own private suite. Your claim on me for scenes doesn’t equate to constant companionship.”

Dexter turned to Shakira, who was still watching them. “Shakira, please arrange an immediate and full refund to the guest sub, Spitfire.”

“Oh… er… of course, Master D,” she responded in befuddlement.

“No! I don’t want your fucking refund. I want my privacy for one and my rights respected for another.” As she stamped her foot with irritation, Dexter had no recourse but to drop his gaze and appreciate the delightful jiggling of her breasts.

Dexter was utterly entertained by her defiance. Most subs carefully measured their responses, playing within established boundaries. Personally, he always preferred the challenge of correcting brats. Violet’s raw authenticity and her complete disregard for the usual power dynamics stirred something primal in him. Her sass wasn’t calculated or performative—it was a pure, unfiltered challenge.

“I’m all for cursing the fuck out of me during a scene, but I suggest you refrain from doing so outside of one.”

“Or what?” The tilt of her chin and the flash in her eyes were all signs that she was spoiling for a fight and likely expected him to respond in the usual big, bad Dom fashion.

He almost chuckled at her transparency. Although he admired her spunk, she was definitely barking up the wrong tree by challenging him publicly. She was about to learn that he didn’t react well to such manipulation… definitely not in the way she was clearly expecting. The wicked gleam that entered his eyes made her falter slightly, a reaction he reveled as her confident stance wavered the moment she recognized a different kind of threat.

“Well, with that attitude, I assume you’re itching for a spanking or a whipping.” His predatory grin spread in a slow, promising smile. “I, on the other hand, believe in more pleasurable ways of extracting punishment... pleasurable for me, of course.”

The way her pupils dilated, and her breath caught teased the Dom inside him. Sassy Spitfire just realized he wasn’t a pushover Dom who would allow a sub to top him from the bottom.

A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face as she processed his words, clearly recognizing that she had miscalculated him. Dexter was amused by the internal struggle visible in the way she shifted her weight and unconsciously wet her lips.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she challenged, but the slight tremor in her voice suggested she knew better. No doubt, the memory of how quickly he had dismantled her resistance on the plane was still fresh in her mind. “You have no recourse.”

“I don’t?” He shortened the chain between them with a deliberate wrap around his fist, drawing her closer until her breasts were flattened against his chest. “The moment you accepted me as your Dom with the conditions I very clearly spelled out, it was as binding as if you had signed a contract, Spitfire. Although it was a verbal agreement, as an attorney, I had no recourse to believe you wouldn’t honor it. So, the said agreement gives me quite a bit of creative latitude in handling insubordination.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her earlier bravado started to crack under the implied threat. Still, her eyes sparked angrily, and he had no doubt it was due to his reference to her honor as a legal professional.

The lobby was charged with tension; even Shakira’s presence was forgotten in their private battle of wills.

“The bungalow arrangement stands,” he continued. His voice dropped to that commanding tone that had made her shiver during their scene, “But you’re welcome to try to argue your way out of it. I have several interesting ideas about how to occupy the extra time that would take.”

His gaze drifted to the statue of Zeus perched on a throne chair in the center of a fountain in the courtyard. A broad smile split across his face as he already envisioned her future punishment.

“See Zeus’ marble throne over there, subbie?”

A deep frown formed between her brows as she searched around until her eyes settled on the fountain through the glass wall.

“Another ostentatious monstrosity, I have to say.”

“Ah… but this one was designed with a divine purpose in mind, my pet.” He chuckled as she retreated out of reach, as if she expected him to grab her and haul her over to the immovable figure outside. With the devil in his eyes, he pointed to a spot in front of him. “Get over here, Spitfire.” His voice dipped lower than his usual Dom’s voice. “Now, subbie.”

Her feet carried her closer within seconds. Leaning in, he breathed against her ear, “Step out of line one more time, and we’ll be visiting Zeus. Be warned, he has a dark liking for submissives perched on the edge of his throne and sitting back on his protruding thumb.”

Dexter suppressed the laugh crawling from deep within with difficulty as her eyes widened when realization struck. The edge of the throne was designed in the form of a penis… a huge penis, and close behind it was Zeus holding onto his staff, with his thick thumb sticking up in the air—shaped like a phallus. The monstrous cock he had mentioned made her eyes grow huge. A sub’s punishment would have her be embedded in both holes by the sleek marble statue.

“You’ve been warned, my pet. Don’t cry wolf when you end up there, merrily riding a marble cock in your cunt, and a finger dick up your ass as a result of your impertinence.”

“I… you can’t be serious.” She pointed at the fountain with indignation painted across her face. “If anything, it’s unhygienic!”

“Oh, no. Never fear. I’ll never take the chance of any submissive catching any diseases here at Blue Paradise Resort. Before any punishment, every surface is disinfected and cleaned properly.” His smile widened. “Also… we always ensure whatever tool is used to penetrate any part of a submissive’s body is covered with a very thick and heavy-duty condom. So, my little recalcitrant subbie, you have nothing to fear. I’ll take good care of you… including your punishments, should the need arise.”

“I’m sure you will,” she muttered under her breath.

“Speak up, Spitfire. I hate mumbling subs.”

“I said, how very kind of you, Master D.”

“You see? We’re like yin and yang. Two peas in a pod… already on the same wavelength.”

Weaving his fingers through hers, he tugged on her arm as he started down a path weaving through the garden toward a large cabana on the beach. “Come, we can each do with a refreshing shower.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m sure you’ll love it. It’s an outside shower with a wonderful view of the ocean.”

“I am not having a shower in full view of the entire island,” she cut back with her eyes darting around.

“The location of my cabana was chosen very carefully. It’s completely secluded and cut off from the main beach. No one will come and go. We can walk naked outside and not be seen.”

“Still, I don’t like to flaunt my nakedness.”

“You don’t? Hmm… if my memory recalls, your limit list clearly stipulates the opposite.”

“In a club environment, yes,” she snapped. Gesturing around, she struggled for words. “This… it’s not… it’s…”

“Part of and an extension of the club environment. Every weekend trip of Club Decadent Skies involves a stayover, and the conditions are very detailed in the contract. Whatever you concede to onboard GoldenEye Airbus III and Club Decadent Skies is extended to the entire weekend, no matter the location at the time.”

“Fucking hell.”

“If I hadn’t seen clips of your brilliance in the courtroom, I’d be worried about your legal acumen, Counselor. You should know better. Every contract, no matter the contents, is important and, therefore, must be very carefully considered before committing to it. In the environment we play in… it’s even more important.”

“I’m well aware of that, Master D.”

Amusement sparkled in his gaze as she held up a hand when he opened his mouth to counter her response.

“I did read the contract properly, but needless to say, this is quite… different from the norm, so excuse me if I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed is to be expected from a newbie to our lifestyle. You’re anything but. However, I’ll let it slide… this once. Be warned, Miss Russo, try to use it as an excuse to get out of punishment, and you’ll be the reason the dark beast wakes up inside me who won’t care how hard you cry or beg for mercy.”

The way her breath caught stirred the very beast, eager and ready for any chance at coming out to play.