When journalist Sandy Ebelson decides she needs a breakout story to advance her career, where does she set her ambitious eye? Why, on the Castle, an infamous BDSM resort that has plagued her small town for years. Sneaking inside is only as difficult as buying a ticket and filling out a fake application, but when Sandy finds herself matched to ex-military masters Eric and Reeve, carrying out her investigation grows quickly more complicated.  

Especially when it comes to Master Reeve, whose rough touch and dark authority make her body respond in ways she’s not at all prepared to understand. Sandy will do anything to get her story, and that includes pretending to be his submissive. What she doesn’t yet know is how much of what she’s doing is really ‘let’s pretend’ and how much is the real her, giving her heart to a man she has every intention of betraying. 

Publisher’s Note: Like all the other stories in the Masters of the Castle series, this contemporary romance can be enjoyed as a standalone. It contains elements of power exchange, explicit language, and MFM ménage scenes. 




“I’m going to paddle you,” Reeve promised. She deserved it for that comment alone. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay.” She edged half a step away from him. “And stop looking at me that way. I don’t like that look. It does very weird things to my stomach.” 

“It ought to do weird things to your backside,” Eric shot back. “That’s the part of you in the most danger right now.” 

Her hand twitched, but she caught herself before she did anything so childish as tuck it back behind her. A poor defense, as well-spanked bottoms everywhere already knew, but Reeve recognized that twitch for what it was. Littles did that, but so did new submissives. She was pushing all the wrong buttons, but she was doing it out of ignorance. This was her first tumble down the rabbit hole, a fall she was only willing to take because of an ulterior motive, but already Reeve could see where this would end. He could see himself stripping her of her green princess dress, one set of untied laces at a time. He could also see her standing at the foot of one of the Castle’s infamous four-poster bondage beds in nothing but her shift—or hell, not even that—with that twitching little hand of hers tucking back behind her as she watched Reeve unbuckle his wide leather belt and pull it free of his pants loops.  

And it absolutely would be Reeve who did that; Eric could use a belt when he had to, but he didn’t prefer it. Eric was a Daddy Dom at heart. He liked those ‘gentler’ methods—the scolding and guiding, lots of hugging and caressing, and when spankings were delivered, he liked over-the-knee with his open hand imparting the pain. It was more intimate that way. 

Reeve was not a gentle Dom. He wasn’t a straight-up sadist, either. On the sliding scale of alpha malehood, with Daddy Doms at one end and Dungeon Masters the other, Reeve landed somewhere in the middle. He liked canes, crops, paddles and straps. He liked the head-game of making her fetch the implement he would then use on her. He liked the squirming, the trembling fingers and trepidatious glances that accompanied his making her take down her own underwear, baring herself for his pleasure and his punishment, and he could so easily see Sandy doing all of that for him. He could see her bending to lay her trembling hands on the foot of his bed, offering her ass for its first good old-fashioned whipping. And Reeve could see himself delivering it, because he wanted to be her first. He wanted to be the one she remembered from now until the end of her life, every time some stray thought sparked this memory, leaving her to wonder time and again what unfathomable impulse had made her obey instead of running for the nearest exit. 

“We’re not going to give you a tour,” Eric told her. “We’re going to spank you.” 

“First me,” Reeve said, staking his claim. “Then him.”