He didn’t have to say because he was temporary. That was implied.
Brax was right, but we’d known that from the beginning. Ever since we agreed to pursue our masochistic sides while still engaging in a permanent relationship, I’d wondered how we could sustain both.
I sighed and flopped back against the seat. “This is so fucked up. Why do we have to be so fucked up?”
Brax laughed. “Because that’s the nature of the beast. We want what we want. We’ve been up-front about that all along.”
Yes, I had known it since the beginning. I wasn’t sure it had always been the case for Brax. He wasn’t even in the lifestyle when I met him. I was the one who introduced him to kink clubs and BDSM. Things progressed from there. We were friends in the beginning and that developed into a sexual relationship, which then turned into something more until I found myself in love with the guy. I didn’t think about how it came about, but I damn sure couldn’t not think about it falling apart.
What if he figured out he didn’t need the same things I did? I mean, I knew he was into rough sex, enjoyed humiliation. I’d seen him flogged a few times, and from the outside looking in, he appeared to enjoy it. But what if he was doing it all for me?
I glanced over at him and studied his profile.
He must’ve felt me looking, because his eyes cut to mine before returning to the road. “What?”
“I love you.” I needed him to know that.
He squeezed my hand. “I love you, too. With everything that I am.”
Those words triggered the memory of our conversation with Zeke in his office. When the big man had been questioning Brax. He’d said something similar then.
“And you, cowboy? What in the ever-loving fuck would you want from me?”
“Whatever you’re willing to give me, Zeke.”
“No matter how filthy? How disgusting? Because, little boy, my mind knows no bounds. My fantasies scare the devil himself.”
“I would give you everything that I am, Zeke.”
I’d never been prone to self-doubts or irrational fears. I moved through life believing that I was exactly where I was supposed to be when I was supposed to be there. However, as I looked at the man who owned my heart and I thought about the man who could own my body, I had to wonder if I would find myself in over my head. What if Brax and I weren’t strong enough to survive this?
Was I willing to risk it because, no matter how much I loved Brax, I still didn’t feel complete? While I could repress the darker side of myself, would I end up regretting that in the long run? And what about Brax? What if I found what I needed in Zeke and it changed me? Would he be able to handle me then? Would he even want me then?
As we pulled into Dichotomy’s parking garage, acid began churning in my gut.
I was no longer sure this was the right thing and that scared me more than the thought of Zeke Lautner beating on me.
SEVEN
ZEKE
WHEN I ARRIVED AT DICHOTOMY a little before nine, I found Ransom and Greg already there. They were sitting in the third-floor Masters’ lounge, feet propped up, television on but muted.
“What’re you here so early for?” Greg asked. “Not used to you showing up until the hard-core set arrives.”
I sighed as I dropped onto the sofa across from the two men. “Had to take care of a few errands. Didn’t want to go back home.”
“Yeah?” Ransom chuckled. “Like paying a visit to a couple of clubs?”
“How’d you hear?”
“Can’t reveal all my secrets,” he said with a grin. “But let’s just say you make quite the impression on people.”
“What’s going on?” Greg asked, his eyes darting back and forth between me and Ransom. “What clubs?”
I figured I might as well get it off my chest. “My sister decided she wants to visit a kink club. She asked about here and I told her no. Then she told me she would just go somewhere else. I had to ensure no one would let her in the door.”
Greg laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You are one brave soul. Jamie’s going to have your ass when she finds out what you did.”
“Yeah. Well. There are worse things.” Such as some bastard putting his greasy fucking hands on her. Fuck. I couldn’t even think about it.
“Never figured you for a hypocrite, Zeke.” Ransom’s tone held only a small amount of disappointment.
Propping my elbows on my knees, I stared at my closest friend. “And what do you suggest I do? You want some asshole beating on your kid sister?”
Greg was the one to answer. “Not all Doms are assholes.”
“Maybe not. But it’s not like I can handpick someone to give her a glimpse into the lifestyle.” The thought was absurd. There were only a handful of people I trusted, but I wasn’t sure I trusted them with my kid sister.
“What if you could?” Ransom asked, his tone suspicious.
My fists clenched as I pinned my meanest glare on my friend. “You are not touching my sister. I’ve seen the destruction you leave in your wake.”
“Never anything they didn’t ask for.” He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Plus, you know she’s not my type, Zeke.”
True. For one, she was female. “Then who?” I grimaced. “And be careful. You might be signing some Dom’s death warrant.”
Ransom’s grin widened, his eyes cutting over to Greg. “Why not Edge? He’s the resident Dom here and he runs the submissive training classes. Who better to introduce a newbie into the lifestyle?”
Greg sat up straight and glared at Ransom. “Are you fucking crazy?” His gaze shot to me. “I swear, Zeke, I would never touch that girl. I don’t care—”
“It’s not a bad idea, actually,” I said, surprising even myself.
“Okay.” Greg held up his hands. “You two are not allowed to drink before you come to the club. You know that.”
I laughed. I rarely drank at all, and on nights I had scenes prepared, I didn’t touch alcohol. So, he couldn’t blame the irrational thoughts on that. And they were irrational, even if they made sense.
“You don’t find her attractive?” I teased my friend.
Greg’s entire face fell, and for a second, I had to think about anytime the man had been around my kid sister. Sure, he knew her. Everyone knew her because I’d brought her to events outside the club. Weddings, birthday parties. That sort of shit. Never had I seen anyone talking to her, though. Not without me being present, anyway.
“Zeke, you can’t be serious.” Greg looked sincerely confused. “I can’t… I don’t…” He shot to his feet. “You know what? This conversation is ridiculous. I’ve got things to do.”
Don’t ask me why I felt compelled to convince one of my closest friends to do this. However, I trusted Gregory Edge. He was one of the good ones. Sure, he could be hard-core and he had the ability to scare some of the submissives, but he was still a good man. I would trust him with Jamie.
Perhaps I was having a mental breakdown.
“I went down to Razor Wire,” I explained, “to tell them not to let her in the club. It wasn’t until I walked in there that I truly thought what might happen if Jamie decides to explore kink on her own. I can’t stand the idea of her being inside that place.”
Greg shook his head, facing away from me. “I would kill one of those fuckers.”
“I know. That’s exactly how I felt. Then I saw that asshole who hurt Addison. He’s a member down there.”
Greg spun back around, his expression grim. “Why would Jamie go there?”
“I’m not saying she will.” However, I knew my baby sister. She was hardheaded. The simple fact that I’d told her not to was enough fuel to have her stubborn streak coming out. She would likely go simply to defy me, then convince me it was all on the up-and-up and I had nothing to worry about.
That thought made the idea of having Greg show her the ropes—not literally, of course—the lesser of two evils.
“What if she came here for one night?” I suggest
ed, then thought it through a little more. “You know, on a night when I’m not fucking here because no fucking way am I gonna witness that.”
Greg stared at me like I had an arm sprouting out of my head.
What I really hoped was that this was a bad fucking dream and I was going to wake up to find out I was not attempting to convince one of my closest friends to top my sister.
For fuck’s sake.
*
Brax
(The cowboy)
DICHOTOMY IN CHICAGO WAS FAR busier than the sister club in Dallas on any given night. I’d learned that during my recent trips here. And it seemed all the freak flags were flying on Friday night. They were packed. Not quite like it had been on the night of Trent’s surprise collaring ceremony but pretty close.
Not that I had time to even say hello to anyone I knew. Case and I blew right past a couple of submissives we’d befriended during recent trips. While I would’ve been the first to offer apologies for our rudeness, fifteen minutes didn’t allow me to so much as take a piss, much less chat it up with anyone. So I followed Case up to the men’s changing room and went right for our locker.
I could tell something was bothering Case even as we ripped our T-shirts off, tossing them, along with our shoes and socks into our locker. The deep discussion we’d had in the car probably hadn’t been the best idea for pre-kink club conversation. Certainly not before we were to scene with Zeke.
Before Case could dart back out, I grabbed his arm and forced him to look at me.
“Are we cool?”
His eyes softened. “Always.”
I nodded as relief swelled inside me. I wanted to talk it out, but unfortunately, we didn’t have time to dwell on it.
We made it down to the dungeon at 9:14 p.m. Twenty seconds later, we had located Zeke, and before my watch hit 9:15, we were kneeling in the corner nearest him. As though his brain was set to an internal alarm, Zeke’s eyes immediately shifted to the corner. I dropped my gaze, my heart beating faster than normal.
I had absolutely no idea what Zeke had in store for us tonight, and despite my reservations—the fear that this potentially had the power to come between me and Case—I was excited. Trembling, in fact.
I should’ve known Zeke didn’t have any intention of going easy on us. Rather than come over and acknowledge our presence, he disappeared completely. Figuring some other Dom had been tasked with keeping an eye on us, I didn’t move, even as the unforgiving concrete floors bit into my knees.
Minutes passed. A lot of them. Due to the way I’d positioned my hands, I could see my watch. Thirty-two minutes had slipped by while the dungeon and its occupants existed around us. The usual sounds of moans, cries, and impact tools hitting flesh echoed in the large space, but not once did I look up.
When we hit the hour mark, I started to worry Zeke had said to hell with us. I wouldn’t put it past him to be off playing with someone else, tormenting them the way I wanted him to torment me. But I wouldn’t move, because if I did, Zeke would never return. We would be passing up the opportunity of a lifetime.
The only thing that would get me to move was the signal that the club was closing or the fire alarm.
Otherwise, I was in it for the long haul, bruised knees be damned.
*
Zeke finally reappeared at 10:47 p.m. A solid hour and a half after my knees first hit the floor. I knew because his big booted feet appeared in my line of sight. At least I hadn’t fallen asleep, although it had been touch-and-go there for a while.
His behavior didn’t surprise me in the least. I’d played with a couple of Doms who were sticklers for patience, but never had I met anyone who liked to dish it out like Zeke Lautner. The man knew that when he was in this space, he was the sun. Everyone else revolved around him.
The only acknowledgment he offered was a tap to the head. No words came out of his mouth, but it was obvious he wanted us to stand. I got to my feet, remaining beside Case. My heart was racing as though I’d been running a marathon, not chilling in a dark corner for the past ninety-two minutes.
Zeke motioned for us to follow him.
We didn’t go far. Only a couple dozen feet to the opposite side of the long, narrow play space. There were no spanking benches or St. Andrew’s crosses in this corner. Only large wooden beams across the ceilings, chains dangling from them, and some hooks in the floor.
My brain blazed through dozens of scenes I’d witnessed as I tried to figure out what he had in store for us.
“Both of you naked,” Zeke said dismissively.
Naked we got.
Standing in a room full of people with my dick hanging out wasn’t my favorite thing in the world, but I’d gotten used to it. Funny, since I’d never even stepped inside a BDSM club before I met Case. Hell, I hadn’t even fantasized about it. Before Case, I’d been what the kink community referred to as vanilla. Maybe a little roughing up during sex, hair pulling, biting, that sort of thing. Definitely not being chained to a beam and spread wide for the entire room to see.
Without a word, Zeke came over and took my wrist in his giant hand. He removed my watch, then led me farther into the corner, positioning me the way he wanted before he proceeded to chain me in place. Hands above my head, arms spread wide, wrists wrapped with leather cuffs, my dick on full display to the growing audience and I wasn’t going anywhere. He pressed his foot to the inside of my leg, brushing against my ankle. I shifted my stance to accommodate. He squatted down and cuffed my ankles, hooking the restraints to the eye-hooks in the floor.
My dick stirred because … well, because I was in a kink club and Zeke Lautner was kneeling in front of me. While he deftly hooked me in place, I didn’t say a word, but my heart raced like a prized thoroughbred after the Kentucky Derby.
Case was the next to be positioned. Again, Zeke never said a word, moving him into position, restraining him the same way he’d restrained me. We were standing beside one another, my right hand almost touching Case’s left.
Of course, we’d drawn quite the audience already and the exhibitionist in me—as well as my dick—was rather enticed by all the eyes shifting and searching, taking it all in. That was the nature of a club like this. People gathered around to watch the scenes that appealed to them. And anytime Zeke did a scene, it was always packed.
Still, Zeke never said a word as he went over to the large leather bag he had sitting on a nearby table. He laid out a few things, but from the angle I was at, I couldn’t tell what they were. Likely his plan.
Several more minutes passed before Zeke came back around to stand in front of us.
“From this moment on, you are fuck toys and nothing more. Tell me, are you here of your own volition?”
“Yes, Zeke,” I said instantly, Case’s agreement coming at the same time.
He pointed his hand toward me. “Here in the club, you have a safe word. Only because it’s required. Tell me your safe word, fuck toy.”
The term fuck toy was not one I’d had anyone use on me before. Generally, my previous play partners had called me sub or boy. This was interesting, to say the least. A bit of mind fuckery, I figured.
“Red, Zeke.”
He did the same to Case, earning the same answer.
“If at any time you need to use it, I expect you to. As for after the scene, everyone knows I don’t do aftercare. So, I’ve enlisted the help of Mistress Jane and Mistress D. They will take care of you. If you have a problem with that, I’ll release you now.”
“No issue, Zeke,” I told him when he pinned those black eyes on me. Case verbalized the same.
I found it interesting that Zeke had selected Dommes to tend to our aftercare. Considering Case and I were not bisexual—which I had to believe Zeke knew—there would be nothing arousing about aftercare with a female. Had he done that on purpose? Or was I merely reading more into it?
Probably the latter.
Zeke stepped forward and gripped my jaw the same way he’d done to Case earlier. His fingers were t
ight, digging into my skin and pressing along the bones. It was rough and it hurt and my cock thickened as soon as the pain registered.
“You are only to speak when you are spoken to, fuck toy. If I ask you a question, you answer. Otherwise, your mouth should remain shut. I do not want to hear anything from you. Fuck toys do not speak. Understood?”
I managed a strained, “Yes, Zeke.”
He studied my face momentarily before releasing me and moving over to Case. Once he got that part out of the way, he turned back to his bag.
I’d noticed Zeke never addressed the room when he was doing a scene. Some Doms explained what their intentions were and what they expected from their submissive. Zeke didn’t pay attention to anyone else and I knew absolutely no one would make a sound during the scene either.
Otherwise, what we were getting from him would be child’s play compared to what he would do to them.
And yes, my dick was still hard.
EIGHT
ZEKE
AFTER CAREFUL CONSIDERATION, I OPTED for something special tonight. A thick plug to go along with a little bit of cock and ball torture to induct my new fuck toys into my world. It wouldn’t take long before they understood exactly what they could expect from me.
And I’d started thinking of them as mine ever since I left their apartment. I wouldn’t be keeping them in the long term, but provided they were still willing once this was over, I would own them for a while. How long was yet to be seen. I tended to avoid putting time limits on my endeavors because one never knew how things would go. Maybe a day, two. Perhaps a week. A month. I doubted they would hold my interest for any longer than that.
They never did.
After walking around them a few more times, I grabbed the bottle of silicone lubricant and a latex glove. I liked silicone because it didn’t dry out easily, and since this wasn’t going to end quickly, I had to take care of my property.
Their Ruthless Sadist (Office Intrigue, 5) Page 9