His Leading Lady
His Leading Lady
Jenny Nordbak
Copyright © 2021 by Jenny Nordbak
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: Jacque Sewell @onthesamepa9e
Cover Image: Michelle Lancaster @lanefotograf
Cover Model: Heath Hutchins
First Developmental Edits: Melinda Utendorf
Final Developmental Edits: Jen Prokop
Line Edits: Erica Russikoff
For my Coven
Contents
1. Elena
2. Alex
3. Elena
4. Elena
5. Alex
6. Elena
7. Elena
8. Alex
9. Elena
10. Elena
11. Alex
12. Elena
13. Elena
14. Elena
15. Alex
16. Alex
17. Elena
18. Alex
19. Alex
20. Alex
21. Elena
22. Alex
23. Elena
24. Elena
25. Alex
26. Elena
27. Alex
28. Elena
29. Alex
30. Elena
31. Elena
32. Alex
33. Elena
34. Alex
35. Elena
36. Elena
37. Alex
38. Elena
39. Elena
40. Alex
41. Alex
42. Elena
43. Alex
44. Elena
45. Elena
46. Alex
47. Elena
48. Alex
49. Elena
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Elena
“I love my job.” I sighed dramatically and flopped down onto the dressing room couch next to my favorite coworker, Ophelia.
She grinned conspiratorially and reached over to help me untie my corset. She’d been a dominatrix longer than me, so she was intimately familiar with the special high that came after a good session.
I was the good kind of exhausted after six back-to-back sessions, having started my shift as a flight attendant and ended as Catwoman. I was absolutely spent, but filled with a sense of purpose.
It was an adrenaline rush to be under pressure to find the exact right way to bring someone’s fantasy to life, and I was floating on the bliss of having nailed it for a very nervous regular who shared a desire with me he’d never told another soul.
It was already 2 a.m. and I was ready to go home, crawl into my comfy bed, and sink into the bliss of oblivion for a few hours before I got to start it all over again.
My phone went off with an urgent appointment alert.
I groaned, not sure I could muster the energy to give another client the focus they deserved.
“Who’s scheduling this late?” Ophelia’s tone made it clear what she thought of their manners. Some of the most powerful people in the world cowered before that tone.
Mistress Ophelia was an attorney by day who mostly worked on endorsement deals for NBA and NFL players, and the scariest dominatrix I’d ever encountered by night. I’d once seen her force a male sub to use his tears as lube. She gave not a single fuck about what anyone thought of her and fully embraced every ounce of her feminine power.
I opened the alert to see if there was any other info, but shook my head. “It just says ‘VIP’.”
Great. Someone with an ego and extra fear of getting caught. The dungeon we worked in kept a low profile and had such focus on privacy that our standard level of service was VIP. We were the most elite house of fantasy in the world, priding ourselves on discretion, and the accompanying price tag meant all of our clients were VIP in one form or another. The last time I had a client flagged like this, he was an Emirati Prince.
I gave Mistress Ophelia the begging puppy face she could never resist, but she put a hand up so she didn't have to see it.
“Hell no,” she said. “I’m not taking that even if it’s the Queen of England. Anyone who’s impolite enough to schedule a last-minute appointment at 2 a.m. isn't worth dealing with.”
I sighed. “I’m not even taking new clients. Not since the stupid video of me flogging the Vice President leaked.”
Ophelia cackled. “What did he think was going to happen if he did a session outside of the dungeon? Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”
“He swore his team could guarantee it was secure. I’ve spent my whole damn career keeping a low profile. I don’t have so much as a Facebook page. And now? I’m all over the internet.”
I’d warned him a less secure location would be risky, but he’d insisted, and now we were both paying the price. It was only a ten second clip of me trampling him and then flogging him, but it had gone massively viral.
I was being flooded with new client requests, but wasn’t willing to take anyone who hadn’t been vetted first. The media fiasco would bring out the wackos in droves.
Ophelia tossed the last of her stuff in her locker and kicked it shut. “Text V and tell her you’re not doing it.”
The owner of the dungeon, Victoria, responded to my text almost immediately.
Trust me, you want to take this.
I rolled my eyes and showed it to Ophelia. “Cryptic as usual. It’ll be more of a headache in the long run if I bail on her precious VIP.”
The alert went off to let me know my client had arrived and was waiting in the penthouse.
Ophelia paused. “Want me to wait for you?”
It was a genuine offer. She’d sit there all night if I asked her to, but there was no need since our head of security would wait and walk me to my car.
“No, it’s okay. Dean’s still here. One of us should get some sleep.”
She booped me on the nose on her way out. “Make him suffer.”
With resigned frustration, I glanced in the dressing room mirror to pull my disheveled black hair into a bun and carefully reapplied my signature red Wicked Queen lipstick.
My phone buzzed again with a text from security.
Client in penthouse wants to know when you’ll be up.
I had to delete my response twice before sending, Presently. Thanks. It wasn’t Dean’s fault the client was high maintenance.
I swiped my key to access the elevator. Victoria had special fobs made that were fashioned to look like antique keys, and we wore them as a necklaces that didn’t detract from our costumes with a clunky badge. As technology improved, she also added a bluetooth panic button with an audio link to security built into the key should things go awry.
Every detail here was meticulously considered to bring about fantasies for our clients that felt real, but since this person had scheduled so last minute, they would simply be getting the penthouse as is—which meant it was essentially identical to the penthouse suite of a very high-end hotel.
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open silently. My black Louboutin stilettos, a gift from one of my regulars, clicked on the marble foyer floor as I walked confidently towards the living room where I could see not one but two men sitting.
I sighed. This night just kept getting better.
They looked up as I drew near, and I instantly recognized the blonde man, but deliberately let my eyes slide over him as though I didn’t, addressing the other man instead.
“Good evening. I’m afraid I only have one client scheduled, but there’s a very comfortable private lounge downstairs where your friend may wait until the end of the session.”
The man I’d spoken to looked mortified and glanced back and forth to the other guy as though waiting for me to realize my mistake. I was well aware the other gentleman was Alex Chase, one of the most famous actors on the planet, and he probably wouldn’t be here if the session wasn’t for him…but my job was all about power dynamics. If I recognized him, then he started with the upper hand.
“Session is with me, sweetheart,” Alex Chase said. He relaxed back on the couch as though this explained everything. From his expression, I should have been honored by this statement.
He was America’s silver screen darling. If there was a wholesome, heartthrob role to be played, he was your guy. It seemed there were some darker depths to his good-boy image. There usually were.
I shifted my gaze to him, arching an eyebrow the tiniest bit to indicate my displeasure at his use of an endearment, but didn’t bother to correct it. If he immediately got a rise out of me, he got the upper hand as well.
He was so attractive the impact of looking at him was visceral. On screen, he was jaw-droppingly handsome, but in person he was something else entirely. It didn’t seem fair that a human could be that good looking. His blonde hair was artfully disheveled and a short beard dusted his impossibly chiseled jaw, framing his full mouth…but it was his eyes that threw me. They were a piercing, icy blue that made me think of the wild northern seas.
It wasn’t my fault I was attracted to him, but he was most definitely not for me, client or not. Who would want the drama of being with someone that famous?
He gave me a dazzling smile and extended his right hand. “Alex. Pleased to meet you, Elena.”
I hadn’t offered my name, but of course he knew it since he’d selected me based upon my profile.
I took his hand and shook it. His grip was firm, but not uncomfortably so, and his palm was dry and warm, all signs of confidence. Those objective observations failed to explain the electric rush I felt from touching him. A mere handshake with him felt more intimate than any of the things I’d done at work that day.
His easy smile didn’t waver, but those ridiculously blue eyes shifted with awareness.
Damn it, he knows I’m attracted to him.
It was an effort to remember to correct him. “Lady Elena.”
I wasn’t just establishing dominance by insisting on my title. I’d only progressed from the title of “Mistress” to “Lady” a few months earlier, a title that marked me as being in the uppermost echelon of even the most elite women in my profession. Only a handful of still active dominatrixes held the title of Lady. It had taken me five years to accomplish, faster than anyone else had managed it by about a decade. I was very dedicated to my craft.
I handed Alex Chase a list from the end table. “Since it’s your first time at the dungeon, you may want to review the rules.”
Many first-time clients had mistaken ideas about what went on here. We could bring just about any fantasy to life, but we weren’t a full-blown brothel. There was no sex allowed, no kissing, no penetration of any kind, and no exchange of bodily fluids. To the uninitiated, that could seem incredibly limiting, but once people shifted their understanding of sexuality, they often found their experiences were being limited by the absolute focus on those acts.
Alex Chase took the list and made a spectacle of studying it.
I looked back to the guy in the suit, who was also handsome in a more understated way. Black hair and thick brows framed dark, soulful eyes. Where Alex Chase was dressed casually in a black tee shirt and jeans, this man was in a designer power suit. From the bulging muscle tone I could see even under a suit as I introduced myself to him, I assumed he was personal security.
“Would you prefer to wait downstairs?” I asked.
Alex Chase chuckled. “Rami needs to stay.”
I would normally have been more patient in an interview, but was tired and really wanted to move things along. “Ah, I understand. You want him to watch. Is it voyeurism or a cuckold fantasy maybe…or something else?”
Alex Chase said, “Something else.” He gave me a delighted smile.
Were they just here for a laugh? I was getting more irritated by the moment. I’d known no good could come of taking new clients on the heels of that leaked video.
They looked at each other significantly like they were silently fighting about who was going to talk. Rami finally said, “We’re not here for one of your normal sessions. I’m Mr. Chase’s attorney and we’d like to talk about an…unconventional session.”
Clients always thought what they were suggesting was unique, but when you’d been in this business as long as I had, nothing shocked you anymore. I wanted them to get to the damn point.
“I assure you this is a judgment-free zone. As long as what you’re proposing falls within the rules on that sheet, I’m sure we can find a way to bring your fantasy to life.”
Rami was in the process of taking a drink of water and choked on it. He managed to sputter, “We’ll need you to sign an NDA before we can discuss it.”
“Our standard NDA should apply here and that’s already taken care of.”
Rami looked at me pleadingly. “Nonetheless, we need something more specific. It was signed off by Lady Victoria this afternoon. She said it wouldn’t be an issue.”
Of course she did. Our owner would’ve seen the client name and been willing to do anything to add him to our roster. Exasperating woman.
I sat on the chair on the other side of him, carefully tucking one ankle behind the other as he slid an iPad across the coffee table to me. I verified Victoria’s signature was there and signed beneath hers without looking at the rest of the nondisclosure agreement. I was too tired to care, and if Victoria approved it, I could trust there wouldn’t be anything wonky. I would never violate a client’s privacy anyway, so it didn’t matter.
Rami nodded his thanks and opened a second document for me. I started to read, but was too aware of Alex Chase staring at me while I tried to make sense of what they wanted.
I scanned it quickly, fighting a yawn. “It’s late. Why don’t you give me the elevator pitch version?”
Rami said, “Apologies for the late hour. We thought it safest to avoid the press as Mr. Chase is quite famous but insisted upon joining me for the meeting.”
It was clear from the gentle chastisement in his tone that there was friendship between them.
“I wasn’t letting you come to a dungeon without me…” Alex Chase said.
As though it was a visit to a theme park.
Rami didn’t acknowledge him. “Mr. Chase is an actor and has been cast as Lucas Steel.”
I forced myself not to react, but it was a struggle since he’d just named a character from one of my favorite books.
Squealing with excitement at the very mention of the film adaptation would be undignified. The character was dark and twisted, but as the series unfolds, it becomes clear he’s doing bad things to protect his people. Okay, mostly to protect his people. He’s still a little morally ambiguous, but who doesn’t love a complicated, villainous hero who’s willing to become a monster to keep the woman he loves safe?