TheDungeon

The Dungeon

Velvet

The Dungeon…where lust hurts so
good.

Kendall Hall has a successful
restaurant in Manhattan and a budding career as a television chef, but despite her
accomplishments, there’s still something missing—a satisfying love life. That
changes when she becomes a member of The Dungeon, a sensual, sexy and
stimulating club where a wide spectrum of BDSM fun is enjoyed. It’s at The
Dungeon where she meets her sub, whom she delights in dominating, though
Kendall keeps her identify well hidden.

Casino owner Magnus Richards is
handsome, charismatic and a member of The Dungeon. He has no idea his
Dominatrix is also his business partner, and with Magnus’ face concealed
beneath a leather hood,
his
identity remains secret as well. As they
work closely together to open a new restaurant, Kendall and Magnus begin to
fall in love…until their BDSM identities are revealed, which could destroy any
chance at happiness—professional
and
personal.

A
Romantica®
interracial
contemporary erotic romance
from Ellora’s
Cave

The Dungeon

Velvet

Chapter One

“So how was your date with that guy you met at the party?”
Sydnee asked over dinner at Niko, Soho’s latest sushi bar. She, too, had been
at their mutual friend’s cocktail party and had witnessed the chemistry between
Kendall and her would-be suitor.

Kendall picked up her saketini, took a sip and responded,
“Don’t even ask.”

“Why? What happened?” Sydnee was extremely nosy—or, as she called
it, inquisitive—and always wanted the 411. She and Kendall had grown up
together in Connecticut. They’d been best friends since grade school and shared
secrets like all BFFs.

“To make a short story even shorter, he didn’t measure up.”

Sydnee put her elbows on the table and scooted closer. “Why
not? You two were gabbing away at the party like old friends. I just knew it
was a love connection.”

“With the way he was talking about his sex game, I thought
it would at least be a sexual connection, but boyfriend’s ‘peter’ was,” she
held up her thumb and index finger, measuring two inches, “about this big.”

Sydnee let out a small laugh and put her hand up to her
mouth. “Shut up! You’ve got to be kidding!”

“I wish I were. I was so looking forward to getting laid. I
haven’t had sex in months,” she sighed.

“I know what you mean. If it weren’t for Victor, I’d be
climbing the walls.”

“Wait a minute—who’s Victor? You’ve been holding out on me.
Give me the goods on your new man.”

“No, I haven’t been holding out. Victor isn’t my new man.
He’s my trusty vibrator. He keeps my G-spot tingling on a regular basis.”

“Girl, I wore out my vibrator weeks ago. I’ve been meaning
to get another one, but I’ve been too busy to make a trip to the Pleasure
Chest. Besides, as much as I loved my Rabbit, there’s nothing like the feel of
a strong man holding you tight. I’m
so
ready for a relationship. I’m
tired of servicing myself. There’s nothing like a good hard dick, pulsating in
and out.” She closed her eyes as if reminiscing about her last sexual
encounter. “And in and out.”

Sydnee nudged her. “Uh, Kendall, snap out of it. You’re not
in your bedroom. You’re out in public.”

Kendall opened her eyes. “My bad.” She looked around the
room to see if the other patrons had witnessed her sensual display and spotted
a handsome man at the bar. “Now that’s somebody I can wrap up in a doggy bag
and take home,” she said, nodding in his direction. Kendall took in his
appearance, he was copper brown, with a goatee and strong masculine features.
He wore a black leather jacket with a stark white V-neck tee shirt, jeans, and
a camera bag hanging off his shoulder. He looked more suited for a biker bar
than a sushi bar. “Damn, he’s fine! I wonder if he’s straight.”

“Good question. He doesn’t look gay.”

“Let’s send him a drink and find out,” Kendall proposed. She
called the waitress over.

“See that guy in the black leather jacket, sitting at the
bar?”

The waitress looked in that direction. “Yes.”

“Put his next drink on our tab.”

“Okay. Should I mention who the drink is from?” the waitress
asked.

“Most definitely.”

The waitress walked over to the bar and spoke to the
bartender. Kendall and Sydnee watched as Mr. Leather Jacket finished his drink
and looked a bit surprised when the bartender brought him another martini
without him ordering one. He said something to the bartender. Kendall assumed
he asked where the drink had come from. The bartender responded, and Mr.
Leather Jacket looked in their direction, picked up his drink and walked over
to their table.

“Good evening, ladies, and thanks for the drink.” He smiled,
exposing a set of perfectly shaped teeth. They were bright, but not fake white.

“The pleasure is all ours. Please have a seat,” Kendall
offered. “I’m Kendall Hall, and this my friend Sydnee Davis.”

He shook their hands. “Pleasure to meet you, ladies, my name
is Robert, but everybody calls me Rob.”

“So, Rob, do you live in the area?” Kendall asked.

“No, I live in Bronxville.”

“Bronxville? What are you doing in Soho?” Sydnee asked, as
if Bronxville was on the other side of the world instead of right outside
Manhattan.

“I’m a photographer and had a shoot in the area. I stopped
in for a few drinks before heading to a club.”

“Oh yeah, what’s the name of it?” Kendall asked.

He took a sip of his drink, gave them each a discerning
look, and said, “The Dungeon.”

“The Dungeon? That’s an odd name for a nightclub,” Sydnee
commented.

He looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “It’s not
a nightclub.”

“You sound mysterious,” Kendall said.

“If it’s not a nightclub, then what type of club is it?
Sydnee asked.

Rob noticed their empty martini glasses and said, “I think
we need more drinks before I get into the particulars of The Dungeon.” He
summoned the waitress and ordered another round of martinis. After the waitress
brought the saketinis, Rob lifted his glass and toasted, “To new friends.”

“So now that you have our attention, tell us all about The
Dungeon,” Kendall said.

“Let me preface this by saying I’m not a pervert, just a guy
who likes to spice things up and—“

Just my type of guy
, Kendall thought, and cut him
off. “Enough with the preamble, just tell us about this place.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be so cloak-and-dagger. It’s just
that The Dungeon is not everybody’s cup of tea, and I don’t want to offend
either of you, if you know what I mean.”

“No, we don’t know what you mean. Now spill!” Sydnee chimed
in.

Rob took a few sips of his drink and then answered, “The
Dungeon is a BDSM club.”

Kendall and Sydnee both looked at each other and said in
unison, “BDSM, what’s that?”

“Bondage, dominance, sadomasochism,” he responded, without
skipping a beat.

“That’s a mouthful! Okay, now that we know what the acronym
means, exactly what goes on there?” Kendall asked, her curiosity piqued.

“The Dungeon is a safe place where willing participants can
express themselves sexually without judgment. It’s a members-only club, where
consensual use of restraints and fantasy role-play take place,” he explained.

“Wait a minute—did you say restraints, as in handcuffs?”
Sydnee asked, looking surprised.

“Yes, handcuffs, leather restraints or whatever your
preference might be. But keep in mind, it’s totally consensual. You can go
hardcore or not, depending on what you like. If you’re into power plays and
like to dress up in leather, latex or rubber, you can assume the role of a
Dominatrix.”

“Hmm, sounds interesting,” Kendall remarked. The thought of
dominating her lover was right up her alley, and she wanted to know more. “So
what else does the club have to offer?” She could just picture herself standing
over Rob, making him submit to her will.

“There are two different levels. The first level—“As he was
talking, his cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” Rob reached into this jacket pocket,
took out the phone and answered the call. “Yes, I’m ready… Okay, I’ll be right
out.” He put the phone back in his pocket. “Sorry, ladies, but that was my
wife. She’s waiting outside.”

“Your wife? You’re married?” Sydnee asked, totally shocked.

“Yep. I took the train in earlier. My wife had to wait for
the sitter. Tonight is date night and…”

“And you’re going to The Dungeon?” Kendall said, impressed.

“Yeah, we like to spice things up.” He polished off his
drink in one gulp, stood up and said, “It was nice meeting you, ladies, and
thanks again for the drinks and conversation.”

“Wait, one more thing. If we wanted to know more about The
Dungeon, how could we get that information?” Kendall asked.

Rob took a card out of his jacket and handed it to Kendall.
“This is the owner’s information. Tell her that Rob recommended you. Goodnight.”

“Thanks.” Kendall watched him strut out of the restaurant,
wishing that he wasn’t married. He was just the type of man she was looking
for—smart, handsome and freaky—but it seemed all the good ones were taken.

“Oh my god! Can you believe that?”

“Believe what?” Kendall leaned back in the chair, picked up
her martini and took a long sip.

“The Dungeon. I can’t believe he’s taking his wife to a
place like that.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it. I think it’s
progressive thinking. Why not give your spouse the same sexual experience you’d
give a lover?”

“Because the marriage bed is sacred and not sleazy. If I
were married, I’d never go to a place like that with my husband,” Sydnee said,
suddenly sounding as if she were an idealistic young woman.

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re taking that position as freaky
as you are, Ms. Vibrator.”

“Victor the vibrator is one thing, but I draw the line with
sadomasochism. I’m not that adventurous,” Sydnee answered, shaking her head.

Kendall thought about continuing the conversation with
Sydnee, but she could tell that her friend was turned-off by the idea of
dressing up in leather and making her lover lick the soles of her boots.
Kendall, on the other hand, was totally intrigued with the idea. She looked at
the card that Rob had given her and put it in her purse. The Dungeon had her
curiosity piqued, and unlike Sydnee, Kendall planned on doing more than just
talking about changing her love life…

She planned on getting her freak on with a pair of
handcuffs, a whip, and a willing participant.

Chapter Two

Magnus was dressing for his dinner date with Amber, a woman
he’d met at a speed dating event. His buddy, Kevin, had dragged him to the
outing against his will. Kevin was recently divorced and wanted to meet new
people, and a round of speed dating was right up his alley. Magnus wasn’t one
for forced setups, but he ended up having a good time. Initially, he and Amber
had hit it off without any glitches. They went on two dates before falling into
bed. The sex was okay, not mind-blowing. He wanted more than regular missionary
sex. He suggested that they try different positions, but Amber resisted. Magnus
had grown up with a houseful of women. He had two older sisters, and two
younger sisters. He had profound respect for women and would never pressure
someone he was dating to perform sexual acts outside their comfort zone.

Not wanting to waste any more of Amber’s time, he thought it
best to end things now. He made reservations at Lavender, one of New York’s
premier restaurants. Magnus was a class act and wasn’t about to take the
coward’s way out by sending a “Dear John” text. He preferred the face-to-face
approach.

Magnus buttoned the black Burberry shirt, leaving the top
two buttons undone. The shirt fit his muscular physique perfectly. He put on a
black blazer, called the building’s valet—who had been washing his car—and
asked if he was finished.

“Yes, Mr. Richards, your ride is polished and ready when you
are.”

“Thanks, Johnny. I’ll be right down.” Magnus grabbed his
keys and wallet off the nightstand and headed out the door.

The minute he stepped through the glass revolving doors of
his building, he could hear the screeching of his Pirelli tires before the car
rounded the corner.

“You’re driving my car as if you’re in the Indy 500?” Magnus
told the young attendant once he stopped and got out.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Richards, but I can’t help it. Your whip is
the bomb!” Johnny ran his hand across the hood of the shiny black TVR Sagaris.
Magnus had had the unique sports car imported from Britain and received
compliments on it daily. “If you ever wanna sell it, let me know,” Johnny said,
standing there, still admiring the car.

“Sorry, my man, but it’s not for sale.”

“You sure? I got some savings, and I could pay you in
installments.”

Magnus patted him on the back. “How much do you have saved?”

“Fifty-two hundred dollars,” Johnny said proudly.

Magnus had grown fond of Johnny. He was a good, hard-working
kid. Magnus didn’t have brothers and had taken Johnny under his wing as his
protégé. “Instead of spending that money on a sports car, let’s talk about you
enrolling into college. You don’t want to be a valet the rest of your life.”

“You know how expensive college is? I don’t have enough
tuition for four years.”

“Don’t worry about it, pay what you can, and I’ll take care
of the balance.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m dead serious. I didn’t go to college, but I had a
mentor who taught me about the gaming business. I started working in one of the
old boardwalk casinos when I was a teenager. With my mentor’s help, I moved up
in the business, and now I’m the co-owner of one of the hottest casinos in
Atlantic City. I believe in paying it forward. I want to help you, like
somebody helped me, and one day, you’ll be able to do the same.”

“Wow, Mr. Richards, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t go getting teary-eyed on me,” Magnus said as he
watched a lone tear ease down Johnny’s face. “Once you’ve decided on a college,
call me with the particulars, and I’ll handle the rest. Gotta dash now.”

“Thanks again, Mr. Richards.”

“No problem.”

The drive to Manhattan was smooth sailing with light traffic
on the turnpike. Magnus pulled in front of the restaurant and turned his car
over to the valet. He strolled in, and took in the décor. Lavender was a French
soul food fusion restaurant. The interior was classy yet comfortable, with
lavender table linens. Cozy booths lined the windows and petite chandeliers
hung over head. Claude Monet and Romare Bearden prints decorated the plush
purple walls, bringing together the French and African-American theme.

“Good evening, and welcome to Lavender. Do you have
reservations?”

“Yes, Richards for two,” he told the hostess.

As Magnus was talking to the hostess, his cell phone rang.
“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Amber. I’m so sorry for calling at the last
minute, but I won’t be able to make dinner tonight. I’ve come down with a nasty
stomach virus. I thought I would be better by now, but I’m not.”

“You think you need to see a doctor?”

“No. Aside from tossing my cookies every fifteen minutes,
I’m fine.”

“Can I bring you anything?”

“No thank you. I can’t have you seeing me like this.
Hopefully, it’s just a twenty-four-hour thing. I’ll call you when I’m feeling
better.”

“Okay, take care of yourself.”

After his call, he turned to the hostess and said, “Looks
like it’s going to be a table for one.”

“No problem, sir, right this way.”

Once Magnus settled into his table and ordered a drink, he
perused the menu. The specialties included collard greens flavored with truffle
oil and smoked squab, lobster macaroni and cheese, fried chicken dusted with
herbes de Provence, and catfish sautéed with shallots and haricot vert. When
the waiter returned, he ordered lobster mac and cheese, and an order of truffle
collard greens.

Magnus polished off every bit of the gourmet meal and felt
quite satiated.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Another double shot of 1738, and my compliments to the
chef.”

The waiter returned with the drink in a crystal snifter. As
Magnus enjoyed his cognac, he looked around the restaurant and saw a beautiful
woman in a lavender chef’s jacket going from table to table, speaking to the
patrons. She was gracious and smiled as she spoke.

Magnus couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She’s gorgeous
,
he thought, admiring her milk-chocolate skin. She was tall and lean, but curvy
at the hips. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck began to rise as she neared
his table.

“Good evening, I’m Chef Kendall Hall.”

Magnus looked up into her warm sable eyes and was at a loss
for words. Her beauty rendered him speechless. He continued to stare and she
returned his gaze. “Please have a seat,” he offered, finally finding his voice.

“Thank you. The dinner rush is over, so I finally have time
to breathe.”

“Would you care for a drink?”

She chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re being the perfect host as if this is your
restaurant, instead of mine.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep, but growing up my mother
instilled in me the virtues of being a gentleman.”

“No problem. It’s rather refreshing to see that chivalry
isn’t dead. Excuse me, Harry,” she said to a passing waiter, “can you bring me
a glass of Veuve?”

“I’m Magnus Richards,” he said, extending his hand. The skin
on the back of her hand was soft as velvet and he didn’t want to let go. He
held her hand a few seconds longer than he should have, and she returned his
grip.

“Did you enjoy your dinner, Mr. Richards?”

“Enjoy is an understatement. My meal was so tasty, I almost
ordered twice.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the compliment.”

Magnus studied her face. Her eyes were almond-shaped. She
had a cute button nose and juicy Sade-like lips which were covered in crimson
lipstick. Hers was a face he could look at on a daily basis. He suddenly felt
nervous, as if they were on a first date. “Have you always been a chef?”

“No. I was a model before entering culinary school.”

“I should’ve known—you’re so beautiful.”

She smiled and blushed slightly. “You’re too kind.”

Magnus couldn’t believe his luck. He had come here to break
up with Amber, and now he was sitting across the table from a woman who had him
captivated.

“Excuse me, Chef, but Mario needs you in the kitchen,” the
waiter said, interrupting them.

“Okay. I’ll be right there.” Kendall stood up. “It was nice
meeting you, Mr. Richards, and thanks for dinning at Lavender.”

Magnus also stood up. “The pleasure was all mine.” As he
watched her strut toward the kitchen, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck
rose once again, which only happened when he was aroused.

On the ride home, Magnus couldn’t help but think about
Kendall. Their brief conversation left him wanting more. Questions began
running through his mind. Was she married? What did her naked body look like?
Was her skin soft all over? Magnus thought about calling the restaurant and
asking to speak to the chef, but he didn’t want to come off as some type of
crazy stalker. Over-aggressiveness with a complete stranger was a turn-off.
Besides, Magnus would make it his business to see her again in the very near
future.