“Yes, Master Zeke.”
Mistress Cameron raised one hand, her red-tipped talons curling around his bicep. “Right this way, pet. I promise, you will not enjoy this.”
Once they were heading up the stairs leading out of the dungeon, I scanned the crowd. “Anyone else have anything to say?”
No one spoke. I hadn’t expected them to. The Doms in the back row grinned. They were often amused by the amount of control I maintained during a scene. It was imperative that these toys learned how to behave. What was the point in owning one if they didn’t do as you wanted?
Pivoting back around, I took in my two fuck toys. I paced in front of them while my eyes raked over them, checking their wrists, their ankles, their balls. So far, so good.
Now it was time to show them what real pain was.
*
Brax
(The cowboy)
WHEN ZEKE TURNED AROUND TO face us after sending the submissive off to have a ginger root shoved up his ass, I could see the intent in his black gaze. His muscles flexed, as though they were readying themselves for battle. He was getting down to business.
Red!
Red, red, red!
That was the only thing blazing through my brain but no matter how badly I wanted to yell out my safe word, I couldn’t. Not because I wasn’t physically capable. I was. I could speak if I needed to.
No. It wasn’t inability that held me back, it was a deep, dark hunger that willed me forward. I’d never experienced anything quite like this before. The damn plug in my ass, the fucking harness thing on my balls, those brutal weights causing the steel spikes to stab into my scrotum, heat blooming on my skin, a fuzziness forming in my brain. I was high on endorphins. It was too much, but for some reason I wanted more.
And the moment Zeke had stripped his shirt off, I’d thought I would come from the sight alone. I’d seen him play plenty of times, but the giant Sadist wasn’t one to remove his clothing in the club. I’d never even seen him without a shirt. And fucking shit, I wasn’t sure I was going to survive it now.
I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. It felt as though Zeke was doing it for us. Possibly without knowing it, he was giving back to us as a reward for what we were giving him.
He was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen. At six three, I wasn’t a small man. I always felt relatively small compared to Case because I didn’t have the muscle mass that he did. But up against Zeke, I was minuscule in comparison. It caused an odd sense of vulnerability to wash over me.
I breathed in deep, exhaled slowly, allowing the pain to morph into intense pleasure. I was doing relatively decent until Zeke pulled a braided whip from his belt. How I hadn’t noticed it earlier, I wasn’t sure. But it was long, with multiple tails and knotted ends. Like a flogger on steroids. It was the same one he’d used on Case when he’d overtaken the scene I had observed a week ago.
Zeke turned away from us, then pointed to a submissive standing near him. “You. Unchain his feet,” he instructed the submissive as he pointed to me. “And I want him”—he motioned to Case—“released completely. For now.”
Oh, fuck. Unchaining my feet meant I would be shifting, which meant the damn torture apparatus on my balls would move and it was possible I would pass out.
The submissive rushed to do as instructed while Zeke stood back and watched. I noticed his eyes continued to look at our hands, our arms. He was assessing the scene, ensuring we weren’t enduring any unintentional pain or damage. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen a Dom quite as attentive to that sort of thing as Zeke. Or maybe I just hadn’t paid that much attention.
“Move your feet together,” he commanded when my ankles were free.
My teeth were going to be chalk by the time this was done. I eased my legs together, grunting as the weight dragged those damn spikes into my balls. It felt as though they’d punctured the skin, but I knew they hadn’t. That wasn’t the intent of them. The pain was the goal, the constant pin-prick like stabs to my most sensitive area, sure. Not blood.
Standing tall allowed some of the strain on my shoulders to ease. I flexed my hands, then gripped the chains, trying to relieve the tension. Zeke didn’t miss the movement, his eyes shooting up to my hands, then down to my face. He must’ve approved of what he saw, because he turned to Case.
“Move back against the wall. I expect you to watch.”
“Yes, Zeke.” There was a grunt to follow Case’s words as he stepped back out of the way. I could imagine it felt as though he was dragging his balls on the ground.
When the submissive scurried off and Case was out of the strike zone, Zeke gripped the tails of his whip, dragging them through his big fist as he moved closer. His eyes were fixed on me and only me. The intensity I saw there had my breath halting in my lungs.
“Five,” he told me. “That’s what I expect you to take.”
Five licks with that thing? Fuck. That seemed like a million at this point.
When Zeke had played with Case, he’d dished out twelve before Case came. He was going easy on me.
Zeke came to stand directly in front of me. I tilted my head back to look in his eyes.
“Five, cowboy.” His voice was low enough I doubted anyone else heard him. “You survive that, you will go home with me and be wearing my collar by the end of the night. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Zeke.” My voice trembled because the excruciating pain continued to flood my system. My balls felt as though they were dragging on the floor, seconds away from being ripped from my body. Yet my mind was now on the potential of being collared by this man. A strange feeling filled my chest. As though there was some sort of light on the inside, daring to come out.
“After five, you have my permission to come.”
“Yes, Zeke.” I wasn’t sure that was even possible with the torture apparatus on my balls, but there was no time to contemplate that because he disappeared behind me.
The audience was focused on me, a few shifting, probably to get a better view of those fucking tails licking my skin. I tried to relax, knowing the tension in my muscles would only make it worse. I remembered the first time I’d been flogged. The pain had been minimal compared to what I’d expected.
I doubted that was going to be the case now.
The deep throb of the music warred with the sound of my blood rushing in my ears. I waited, no way to see what Zeke was doing or when he was going to—
“Fuck!” I cried out as those wicked tails snapped against me. It felt as though the skin had been ripped away, the fires of Hell having nothing on the agony that lanced me. I breathed through it, my cock throbbing despite the pain. Or maybe because of it. I didn’t know at this point.
I thought I was ready for the next one, but it took me by surprise, coming far sooner than I anticipated. I jerked, my balls swinging, the spikes and the weight making my eyes water.
When the next one came, it wasn’t quite as intense. I figured that was due to the shock, the weird feeling that overtook me. Like I was floating above myself. I shifted forward, groaning from the torture. It morphed into one fireball of agony that seemed to bloom over my entire body.
The fourth one caused my arms to weaken, my hands releasing the grip on the chain. And the fifth came right after. My brain registered the number, my cock swelled, my balls drew up tight, and I came in a rush that was so fucking painful I would’ve fallen to the floor had I not been held up by the cuffs around my wrists.
“Release him!” Zeke yelled, his voice a dull roar in my ears.
The next thing I knew, two submissives—big men I didn’t know—came forward. With a strange sense of urgency, they freed me, then bore my weight on their bodies, broad shoulders tucking beneath my arms.
Zeke appeared before me. “You did good, cowboy.”
His praise didn’t lessen the intense sensations stabbing into me but it was more than I expected.
“Thank you, Zeke.”
When Zeke moved away, I was vaguely aware of a submissive wearing rubber
gloves rushing forward with a towel and spray bottle filled with some sort of cleaner. The mess I made was quickly cleaned and then Mistress Jane was coming forward, her hand dipping down between my legs. In an instant, my balls were freed and air slammed into my lungs as the pain reversed, only to transform into something equally fierce, the spikes dislodging from my tender skin. Mistress Jane offered a nod behind me before she turned.
With the submissives’ help, I put one foot in front of the other. And as they led me into one of the private aftercare rooms, I found that I was smiling, the euphoric feeling taking over.
It was the first time I’d ever experienced a high quite like that. And it had me wondering just what I’d been missing out on.
More importantly, just what I was getting myself into.
TEN
ZEKE
I WATCHED AS JANE’S TWO submissives practically carried the cowboy to an aftercare room. The moment they were out of sight, I turned my attention to the other fuck toy who was waiting for me. I would check on the cowboy later, meet up with Jane to get an overall assessment. I wasn’t the sort to offer aftercare because some submissives took it to mean more than it was. I didn’t want to give anyone false hope, but I wasn’t a monster despite the rumors.
“Back to the chains,” I ordered.
His movements slow, the pretty boy managed to get back into position. Since Jane had taken the two biggest submissives available, I opted to reconnect the cuffs myself.
Once the pretty boy was back where I wanted him, I came to stand in front of him. His eyes were glazed, the pain still surging through his body.
I gripped his jaw because I’d noticed how he responded to me when I did. The man wasn’t in this to see how much pain he could handle. He knew how much he needed, that was clear. And he was desperate to receive it.
I would be the man to give him that.
“You will take ten,” I told him, holding his gaze, those bright green eyes glassy. “You will take all ten graciously and without complaint. If you do, you will go home with me and be wearing my collar by the end of the night.”
“Yes, Zeke.” His chest rose and fell, his body succumbing to the constant sensation beating on him. Between the plug in his ass and the weights stretching his balls, those tiny steel spikes biting into sensitive flesh, I would be surprised if he made it to five before he was flying.
Still gripping his jaw, I leaned in closer. “I do not expect you to come if you fly, pretty boy. However, should you not hit subspace, you may come after ten. Understand?”
I could see the plea in his eyes. He wanted subspace more than he wanted to come. It didn’t surprise me.
Releasing his face, I took a step back. I raked my gaze over his entire form, confirming he was where he should be. The cuffs weren’t cutting off the circulation and his balls weren’t discolored from the leather binding them. Content that he wasn’t suffering unnecessarily, I walked behind him.
While I had only given the cowboy five, I’d known the pretty boy would need more. He was far more experienced with this, far more in tune with his own needs. I appreciated that. It made my job easier. I didn’t have to worry that he would take this only to please me. He needed this as much as I did.
Once I was behind him and no one was in danger of getting the ends of my tails, I pulled the whip back and snapped it forward, ensuring the ends did not touch his skin. As I expected, the pretty boy didn’t move, his body primed and ready for the blow.
The next time I pulled back, I let go, following through and allowing the nine knotted ends to snap over his back.
The pretty boy moaned, but he didn’t move.
I continued, delivering blow after blow, taking several seconds between, sometimes a little longer, prolonging the torture. It wasn’t until the seventh that his knees buckled. My eyes shot up to his hands. He wasn’t holding on to the chains, merely dangling from the cuffs. He couldn’t remain there for long or he’d cut the circulation off in his hands.
I delivered the last three in rapid succession, the pretty boy’s deep bellows confirming my suspicion. He was flying high, his mind wrapped up tightly as the pain consumed him and the endorphins offered the escape he sought. It was the relief he wanted, the high he chased, and I’d given that to him.
I tossed the whip to the side and moved forward. I caught Trent’s attention and he stepped forward instantly, Ransom moving in beside him. There was no one else nearby capable of bearing the pretty boy’s weight, which explained why the two Masters were there to assist.
I turned to face the pretty boy, leaning in close but not touching him. “You did good. I look forward to seeing you wear my collar.”
“Thank you, Zeke,” he mumbled, his words slurred.
Mistress D stepped forward almost instantly, releasing the parachute from the pretty boy’s balls, dragging a long, ragged moan from him. She gave me a nod—her confirmation that she was taking responsibility for him—before turning and leading the way to another aftercare room.
“Master Zeke, may I clean up for you now?” a soft female voice sounded from behind me.
I turned to see one of the submissives who volunteered here at the club. She had asked prior to my scene if she could assist and I’d granted her permission. I appreciated the fact she had asked. “You may.”
Without hesitation, she hurried to get the toys from the floor and the cuffs still connected to the chains, bringing them over to me before she grabbed the cleaner and towels. I shoved the used toys into ziplock bags and stowed them in my bag to clean later.
As I tucked them inside, I smiled to myself. I wouldn’t have to clean them later. I had two fuck toys who would handle that for me.
The thought made me chuckle even as a foreign sense of anticipation shot through me.
*
Two hours later—just after one in the morning—I was walking into my house while the cowboy and the pretty boy were pulling into the driveway. It had taken some time for them to come down from the scene. While I had checked in on them both a couple of times, I’d left their care to the others and by the time I told them I was ready to leave, the two masochists were in good spirits, if not exhausted.
I couldn’t blame them. I’d put them through hell and enjoyed every second of it. Didn’t mean I was done with them tonight.
“What’s up, boy?” I greeted Tank when he rushed to the front door, his tail wagging ninety miles a minute. “You wanna go outside?”
It only took the word outside to get him darting for the back door. After setting my bag on the counter, I followed. Opening the sliding glass doors, I freed him from his indoor prison. He raced out into the yard and wandered for about thirty seconds before finding a spot to do his business.
I watched, smiling as I did. I had no clue what it was about that dog, but I missed him when I was away. It was one of the reasons I’d insisted that he be allowed to come to work with me before I accepted the position at Chatter PR.
Aware that Tank would sniff around for a good twenty minutes, I left the door open and headed back to the front door in time to see the cowboy and the pretty boy step inside. Their eyes were wide as they peered around.
I knew what they were thinking when they scoped out my living space. It likely didn’t suit me based on what everyone knew about me. It wasn’t dark and gloomy. There weren’t sex toys hanging from the walls. I had some, but I kept those secured in the basement. However, this was home and I was comfortable here.
“Come here,” I instructed.
Both men moved toward me, their curiosity morphing to concern as they likely tried to decipher my tone.
“I want you both to kneel. I’ll be right back.”
Leaving them to do as I asked, I jogged upstairs to my bedroom and over to my dresser. I retrieved the two items I’d ordered a week ago. Perhaps I’d been a little optimistic when it came to them, but it wasn’t something I was going to dwell on.
I returned downstairs to find them exactly where I’d asked them
to be. That was one thing I greatly appreciated about them. Neither was going to require any special training. They were willingly obedient and that alone was refreshing. Too many times I’d dealt with submissives who thought a Dom wanted to train them to be the perfect little fuck toy. Perhaps some Doms did. I was not one of them.
I stopped directly in front of them both.
“Look up at me, pretty boy.” When his light green eyes met mine, I locked my gaze with his. “I’m offering you my collar with the understanding it’s to be worn at all times. While it may be temporary, it shows proof of ownership. Do you accept?”
“I do, Zeke.”
It only took a second to hook the plain black leather dog collar around his neck, locking it with a titanium padlock. I would wear the key around my neck for as long as he wore the collar.
When I was done, I turned to the cowboy and gave him the same speech. He was far more expressive than the pretty boy, anticipation lighting up his dark eyes. “Do you accept?”
“Yes, I accept, Zeke.”
I connected his collar—exactly the same as the pretty boy’s—before taking both keys and placing them on the silver chain that I wore around my neck.
“If at any time you remove the collar, I will take that as your decision to void our contract. And when I remove the collar, that is confirmation that our contract is null and void as well. Understand?”
“Yes, Zeke,” they said in unison.
“Good. You may stand.” Once the chain was hooked around my neck, I motioned toward the stairs. “There are two guest rooms upstairs. I want you to each take one. While both rooms have beds, don’t assume that is where you’ll be sleeping. However, I can assure you, you won’t be sleeping in those beds together.”
I knew they were in a relationship and had been living together prior to this, so I fully expected them to argue, to request to be in the same room, but neither did.
“Put your things up there for now, then come back down and join me.”
Without waiting for them, I went to the kitchen and pulled out Tank’s food bowl. While he had eaten earlier in the evening, I figured a late-night snack couldn’t hurt, so I went to work preparing it. My dog was on a fresh food diet, no chemically processed kibble for him, so it took a few minutes to get it together. By the time I had it ready and sitting on the floor, Tank was back inside, his tail wagging enthusiastically because he considered this a treat.
Their Ruthless Sadist (Office Intrigue, 5) Page 11