Edge of the Enforcer

by Cherise Sinclair

  Jake put his palm over her mouth and calmly accepted the gag Logan handed him. “Gonna be a long night, isn’t it? For you, at least, sprite.”

  Amused at the muffled cursing, deVries joined Lindsey and Dixon.

  As a concession to the rustic atmosphere, Dixon had foregone his normal flashy fetwear and instead wore a red flannel shirt tied at the waist, red latex shorts, and matching Velcro wrist cuffs. “Sir,” he said with a dip of his head.

  “That’s more polite than when you called me a ‘fucking asshole.’” The worry that appeared on the young man’s face was satisfying. Good start to a scene. “I’m in the mood to beat on you. You up for it?”

  “Yes, Sir!” Dixon bounced on his toes.

  DeVries studied him. The boy was moving easily. Expression open. Since they’d scened together before, negotiation was a snap. “Anything new I should know? Sore spots, triggers, places to avoid? Additional needs or requests?”

  “Nothing new, Sir.”

  “Strip.” He pointed to a spot beneath two dangling chains. “Both of you, kneel there.”

  Anticipation was rising inside him. His plan was simple: dominate the two of them, inflict pain on the boy, tease his own little subbie, hand the boy over, play with his woman.

  His cock went rigid as he tugged Lindsey to her feet and ran his fingers through her silken dark hair. After kissing her velvety lips, he molded her against him for a sheer erotic rush.

  As he fastened wrist cuffs on her, he stroked her arms. Sturdy wrists—for a woman; compared to his thick bones, hers seemed incredibly fragile. The white scars on each arm pissed him the hell off. Ricks was a dead man.

  No. He pushed away the thought. Tonight was for now. Nothing else. He crouched and buckled the ankle cuffs on her legs before nuzzling her soft stomach. She wore a light floral fragrance that didn’t overpower the scent of her delicate musky arousal.

  “Where do you want me to kneel?” The eagerness in Lindsey’s eyes had increased with the addition of ankle cuffs. Recently, he’d discovered having her legs restrained flipped a nice little switch in her.

  He smiled slowly. “Get in the cage.”

  “What?” The oval birdcage was constructed of black rebar rather than wire and hung freely from a ceiling chain. “In there?”

  “Oh yeah. In you go.” He braced the birdcage as she reluctantly climbed inside the hip-high door. After she had knelt on the doughnut-holed leather pad, facing him, he said, “Arms up.”

  He hooked her cuffs together and clipped them to the cage top. “Spread your knees, pretty bird. And get comfortable. You’re gonna be here for a while.” He closed the door. Didn’t lock it or chain it shut.

  Designed for BDSM play, the frame had clamps attached to accommodate the two-foot-long steel stakes waiting in a container. He inserted a stake through a clamp and inward until the dull point touched her upper back, then secured it. He set another stake to press on the other side of her back. Now she couldn’t move backward in the cage.

  Two more stakes grazed each ass cheek. Her eyes widened when he slid the next thick stake in to dimple the outside of her right breast. He did the same on the left. “I recommend you don’t do much wiggling, right?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’ve never seen a birdcage before?” He angled two more stakes to the insides of her thighs, ensuring her knees stayed apart.

  “N-no.”

  He stepped back and studied her. Lips still swollen from earlier, cheeks slightly flushed, arms over her head so her breasts were lifted, showing the tight, jutting peaks. The dim light of the dungeon was enough to see how wet her thong already was.

  Made him want to yank her out and take her immediately.

  Soon. And by then he’d have her squirming mindlessly. Yeah.

  “You start getting muscle cramps or get scared, you sing out, pet.” To extract her from the cage, he’d have to flip the quick-releases of the four stakes in front and remove them. More stakes were in the container, but this was plenty until he knew how she’d react. Some submissives loved this kind of immobilization. Some got terrified.

  That wouldn’t be good. Problem was that with impact play, his focus needed to be completely on the bottom, so he might not catch it right away if Lindsey started to panic.

  He walked over to Logan, who stood in the center of the room. “You monitoring now?”

  Logan nodded.

  “I’m going to flog Dixon with Lindsey in the cage. It’s her first time there and being restrained with stakes. Could use some eyes on her while I’m occupied.”

  “You’re splitting your attention?” Logan studied the two submissives and the area. The birdcage was within a few feet of the dangling chains. “I’ll have Simon monitor the rest of the room so I can stick close.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  Problem solved.

  He glanced at Lindsey, pleased to see the tenseness of her body. For the time she’d be watching, the stakes would serve as a constant reminder she was still under his control. Would give her small amounts of pain—which he’d enjoy—especially once he upped the stimulus for her to move.

  He joined Dixon. “Now you, boy.” Fisting the bottom’s pretty blond hair, deVries yanked him to his feet. The boy gave a tantalizing yelp. “Arms up.”

  After lowering the chains secured to the rafter beams, deVries used panic snaps to secure Dixon’s wrist cuffs to the chains. He considered adding a spreader-bar for his legs, but…nah, he was in the mood to watch some dancing feet. This setup looked good.

  He stepped back and assessed Dixon. Too cocky.

  Fuck that shit. DeVries blindfolded the boy’s eyes.

  Dixon’s muscles tensed, but he took a calming breath and relaxed.

  Good control, deVries thought…and waited.

  As nothing happened and the seconds ticked by, Dixon started to tense up again.

  Much better. How far could he wind the submissive up? DeVries leaned forward and growled in his ear, “Got all of your body to use for my target, boy. Best you hope I don’t flog those fat balls of yours to ribbons.”

  Swallowing, Dixon edged his legs together, hiding his vulnerable parts; yet, as if dissociated from fear, his dick strained upward.

  Very nice. This boy wasn’t the type of masochist who found any and all pain enjoyable. No, Dixon felt actual pain at first and had to endure the discomfort to reach his goal of subspace. Was a hell of a lot of fun to push this kind of masochist up the brutally painful slope to pleasure. “Your safeword still the same, boy?”

  “Frank-N-Furter.”

  “Might be amusing to hear you squeal that.” DeVries ran his hands down the leanly muscled arms, over narrow shoulders, down his back. Sensitizing his skin. “Party safeword is red. Use one or the other if you need it.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  DeVries stepped over to the birdcage. Lindsey hadn’t moved. None of the stakes were digging into her skin too far. He studied her face. Her head was right here with him, nothing else on her mind. Perfect. Fitting his arm through the bars, he laid his palm along Lindsey’s cheek. “All right?”

  Her eyes were the melting chocolate color of the fudge she’d made. Fucking sweet. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good.” He jerked his chin at Logan, who was leaning against a stone pillar, gaze on them. “I get that you’re not one to want to interrupt a scene, so Logan is there if you need him. He’ll stay till I’m with you.”

  The relaxation of the muscles in her neck and around her mouth told him she’d worried. “Thank you, Zander.”

  Good. On second thought, damned if he wanted her too relaxed. He ran his knuckles over her firm little breasts and rolled her nipples between his fingers, increasing the pressure until she started making pleasing squeaks and squirming uncontrollably. Her movements pushed her into the stakes, reminding her of their presence. Reminding her she was trapped for his pleasure.

  He could actually see her grow wetter. Fuck, he loved the way she responded.

&n
bsp; Nonetheless, her turn was over. “Hang tight, babe. Next time I’ll pick on that pretty pussy of yours.”

  Her instinctive movement drove her knees into the stakes, and the luscious helpless sound she made kicked up his own hunger. Oh yeah. He wanted more of that.

  As he returned to Dixon, the fire of need simmered under his skin. “I got an itch to hear you yell, boy,” he said. “First I’ll give you a bit of a warm-up so I can draw this out until you’re sweating.” He started in.

  The sound of the flogger striking skin—no matter how lightly—increased his pulse and steadied his focus. Pinken that patch of skin. Avoid there. Make the sides match. Study the results.

  Dixon’s muscles were relaxed, breathing steady.

  Gradually, deVries found a good rhythm. He snorted, realizing Dixon’s ass was swaying to Combichrist’s “Get Your Body Beat.”

  After a while, he moved to a heavier flogger. Added some caning for variety.

  “Brace yourself, boy,” he said. And he finished—for the moment—with three much harder throws with no break between.

  The sheer force rocked Dixon forward each time. Hands fisted, neck bowed, Dixon breathed through the pain. His forehead and shoulders were damp with sweat, but the change in his expression, the glow, said he was moving into subspace. Nice. Very nice.

  “Don’t move now, boy. You stay still.”

  Dixon received the instructions with a submissive shiver.

  While the boy finished processing the pain, deVries went over to the birdcage. “Pretty little canary. Gonna listen to you sing next.”

  Lindsey’s gaze was fixed on him like a bird watching a cat approach. While he’d flogged Dixon, her breathing had increased, her cheeks had flushed. She was getting nice and toasty with excitement.

  “How are you doing, babe? Can you last longer?”

  Her chin came up. “I’m fine, Sir.”

  Well, hell, a submissive shouldn’t say that to a sadist. Might as well shout nah-nah, ni-nah-nah, right? “Good to know.”

  He didn’t intend to draw out Dixon’s scene—he had other plans for the boy in mind—so he might as well fuck Lindsey’s head up a bit now. He pinched her pretty nipples back to a dark red and stopped before she got too squirmy. “You’re going to need to remember to stay still.”

  “Sure. Sir.”

  “Good for you.” He smiled into her eyes and saw worry appear. She knew him well.

  His favorite wand was in his toy bag. He added the nubby attachment. Plugged into the wall, the device fit through the space under the birdcage door. He clamped the wand in position so it barely…barely vibrated the thong covering Lindsey’s pussy.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you don’t get bored, baby.”

  Her hands fisted as the vibrations registered. She was already aroused, and it took only a few seconds before she wanted more. Her hips tried to move forward…and were stopped by the stakes. When she persisted despite the undoubted discomfort, he tsk-tsked and withdrew the vibrator far enough so she couldn’t quite touch it. So she wouldn’t be able to get off.

  Her glare made him laugh.

  As he returned to Dixon, he could hear the hum of the wand and her low moan. Nice.

  He grabbed Dixon’s hair and yanked his head back. “You sleeping there?”

  The boy gasped. “No, Sir!”

  “Good. Maybe you need some noise to keep you lively.” He’d brought one of his single-tails—a medium-length one. Stepping back, he picked it up and gave it a quick snap.

  As the crack echoed in the room, Dixon straightened so quickly his spine almost shattered.

  “Got a problem with whips, boy?” Nothing had been on his limits list at Dark Haven.

  “No, Sir.” When deVries didn’t respond, Dixon swallowed and added, “They make me…nervous.”

  “Shows you’re not stupid.” The harsh sting would center the bottom’s attention after the small break and steer him into the mind space where he needed to be. Afterward a hard flogging should take him up and over.

  He flicked the tail over the young man’s ass, his shoulders, down to his ass, and grinned when the bottom’s feet started moving, his ass twisting, trying to avoid the startling burn.

  “Good luck with that.” He settled into an even rhythm, knowing it was counterbalanced by the erratic nature of the stinging impacts.

  As the whipping continued, Dixon’s shoulders relaxed, his hands opened. Heading into subspace.

  DeVries checked Lindsey. Her face was flushed. The wand had done the job, and her muscles were taut with the need to get off. She was sweating, her face showing she’d reached her limit of frustration.

  He met Logan’s eyes, looked at Lindsey, and made a cutting motion. Pull the plug.

  Logan nodded.

  DeVries walked forward, grasped Dixon’s chin, and lifted. “You holding up, boy?”

  The simple touch and question made Dixon’s mouth curve up sluggishly. Oh yeah, he was nicely into la-la land. “Sir,” he breathed. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good boy.” As deVries returned to his work, he heard the hum of the wand die and the whine of Lindsey’s response.

  Crack. Crack. Crack. Dixon’s back displayed a gratifying pattern of thin red lines. No blood.

  Time for the flogger. A medium weight, deVries decided, with enough sting to remind the boy of the whip, enough weight to be thuddy, not so heavy as to break open the stripes.

  Smiling, he moved into a nice figure-eight pattern, melding in the music, his heartbeat, Dixon’s swaying with the slap, slap, slap of the flogger. He was sweating, enjoying the weight, the sounds of the blows, the sucking of air as the bottom processed each blow. Nothing felt like swinging a flogger.

  In the corner of his eye, he saw Stanfeld. Right on time as agreed.

  DeVries flicked the strands, pulling back enough that only the tips struck Dixon, giving him a new sensation.

  Stanfeld seemed like a decent guy. Honorable. Honest. And Simon considered him a damn good Dom. Xavier and Simon had been concerned about the crappy Doms Dixon kept choosing. Tonight, deVries figured on handing the boy over to someone who was all Dom.

  DeVries paused and jerked his chin up at Stanfeld.

  Arms crossed, the agent had taken a position near the wall to watch. Stanfeld smiled slightly…and nodded.

  IN THE BIRDCAGE, Lindsey couldn’t take her gaze off Zander. “Fuck, I love you too,” he’d said. Over the past few hours, those words had run through her mind like an ever-spinning carousel of joy. After hearing of the burglary of her duplex and realizing Ricks and Parnell had found her, she’d hit rock bottom. Yet, this evening, she was ready to soar upward and dance like a happy star in the night sky.

  “Fuck, I love you too.” Zander never said things he didn’t mean. His devastating bluntness did have a benefit. He loves me.

  And I really, really love him.

  Maybe a little less right now, though. Damn Enforcer. After the vibrator, her clit was so engorged and throbbed so intensely she wanted to scream. Trying to shift her weight, she only succeeded in making the birdcage rock. His stakes—like giant needles on steroids—poked her bottom and her back and her poor breasts.

  The way Zander had reduced Dixon to a glassy-eyed, subspaced body seriously turned her on. Every time Dix hissed with pain, Zander’s focus grew more intent, as if he was drinking in the sounds her friend made. If Dixon tried to shift his weight to avoid a blow, the next hit of the flogger would thwart him.

  She couldn’t help seeing poor Dixon had an impossibly hard erection. He was suffering as badly as she was.

  Again Zander walked around in front of Dixon to study him. “Yep, you’re done.” He flicked the flogger at the young man’s genitals.

  The yelp Dixon made was terrifying.

  God, how could he pick on a person’s privates—especially when all swollen up? Lindsey squirmed in sympathy. “Friggin’ sadist.”

  Obviously hearing her, Logan gave an amused snort.
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  Zander gripped Dixon’s jaw and removed his blindfold. “Look at me, pup.”

  Dixon’s eyes opened and focused. “Yessir.”

  “You’re about at your limit—but I could play with the flogger and whip for another hour.” Zander’s lips curved when Dixon strained to inch back. “We can continue…or I can hand you off to a Dominant who’ll take the scene in a different direction. Simon vouches for him, by the way.” He looked to the right.

  Lindsey followed his gaze. Whoa, the Homeland Security guy was in the dungeon. He wore black jeans and a black skintight body shirt that showed off a leanly muscular body. He was looking at Dixon in appreciation.

  But she hadn’t had a chance to talk with him—not enough to decide if she trusted him with her friend. She frowned. Still, if Simon said Stan was okay…maybe it was all right.

  Dixon blinked, stared at Stan, and blinked again. “I—I—I.”

  Sneaky sadist, Lindsey thought. Dixon sure didn’t want that whip again. Since Zander had suggested the change in Doms, Dixon wouldn’t look as if he were chasing after man-candy. She glanced at the agent. The Dom was definitely a gay boy’s dream.

  “Do you want Stanfeld to take over?” Zander asked.

  Dixon’s expression held both desire and worry.

  I so understand. Lindsey’d been in that position. The first scene or two with someone unknown was awfully scary.

  “Boy,” Zander said in his grating voice. “Your play stays in here, nowhere else. Tex and I won’t leave before you do. And Logan will keep an eye on you as well.” He raised his eyebrows at the two Doms.

  “Agreed,” Stan said.

  Logan nodded.

  “Okay.” Dixon went starry-eyed. Lindsey could understand why, since Stan was not only gay but also very, very dominant.

  “All yours,” Zander said to the agent and moved his bag to the other side of the birdcage.

  Stan stalked across the room and stopped in front of—

  Zander’s body blocked her view. After opening the cage door, he curved his hand around her jaw. “You going to watch them or me?” Zander asked.

  Oops. “Um, you, Sir.” She could barely hear them talking—going over limits, she thought.