What I did have was a deep desire to cause pain, but only to those who wanted it. And a masochist wanted it. They were fueled by dark urges the way I was. There was no reason to make a million excuses or try and explain it away as some psychological malfunction. It was what it was.
Ask any of the submissives at Dichotomy and they’d have a varied tale of who they believed I was. I’d heard plenty of adjectives whispered about me. Mean, cruel, distant. People dissected me in varied ways, but I could say the majority of them didn’t understand me even on a base level.
I didn’t make small talk with every Suzy Whatsit who wanted to chat about how she hoped to get fucked by the big, mean man. I wasn’t interested in pussy.
Nor did I entertain those I knew I wouldn’t have anything in common with. I didn’t go to the club with the intention of slapping around some eager-eyed submissive who wanted to believe I would get off by smacking their ass. What I wanted surpassed that shit by a country mile.
I was primal in nature, a beast to the core. I had a deep desire to destroy, but not out of anger. My deviously kinky brain should come with a warning label, something to let trespassers know I would gladly shatter them and walk away, leaving them for someone else to put back together.
I was a loner. I didn’t need the company of others to feel complete. I wasn’t looking for companionship or love. I didn’t want a relationship, I wanted to fuck. I wanted to expel the urge, then allow it to build again. I wasn’t interested in having some little fuck toy wake up in my arms, believing there would be rainbows and unicorns coming out of my ass when I walked away.
I preferred the mind fuck. I craved it. Watching a submissive mentally writhe while desire filled them until they couldn’t breathe. No one but me truly knew what I was capable of. And I liked it that way.
But for whatever reason, I felt a connection with the pretty boy and the cowboy. Nothing deep, mind you. I didn’t experience that giddy, lovestruck feeling. I might’ve been born with that gene, but it had long since disappeared, consumed by the overwhelming urge to dominate and destroy.
However, when it came to the pretty boy and the cowboy, there was a physical attraction that was undeniable. They definitely made my dick hard. And the thought of beating on one or both of them tripped my trigger. I’d seen firsthand what the pretty boy desired. Hell, I’d delivered it. And I’d thought about it every day since.
I peered over at Tank. “How long should I make them wait, boy? Think I should put them out of their misery? Long drive from Texas to here.”
Of course, Tank didn’t acknowledge me. He didn’t care what I did as long as he could tag along.
Grabbing my phone, I decided it was time to get this underway. After all, I still needed to figure out if this really was something I was willing to pursue.
Or it was merely a passing fancy.
*
Brax
(The cowboy)
I DIDN’T MIND WAITING. NOT usually.
At the doctor’s office, a good restaurant, at an amusement park. As a society, we’d come to expect it. Patience was a virtue.
However, waiting twenty minutes for Zeke to be available hadn’t been on my agenda for the day. I’d hoped to stop in, grab the keys, head up to the apartment, and sleep for a while. At the very least, get a shower and wash off some of the travel grime.
Then again, I doubted Zeke gave a shit about my agenda or whether or not I shuddered anytime I thought about those sheets I’d slept on last night. The shower I’d taken in the hotel room had done nothing to dispel that itchy feeling. Had we planned ahead, Case and I could’ve slept in a four-star hotel. Instead, we’d stopped at the first place we came to when it became damn near impossible to keep my eyes open. Lesson learned.
And now I should’ve been minutes away from a nap. Instead, I was sitting on the leather sofa in the fancy reception area waiting for Zeke to stop fucking with us. Any other day, perhaps I would’ve been impressed by the power play. Today was not that day.
The phone on Dale’s desk rang, and based on the way he answered, the call had come from inside the office. He hung up and glanced over. “Zeke will see you now. His office is downstairs.” He motioned toward the hallway.
“Thanks,” I offered as I pushed to my feet, my back cramping. I needed to be horizontal for a while.
“Good luck,” Dale said with a smirk as we passed by.
I allowed Case to lead the way, following him down the wide hallway that opened up to the offices belonging to Landon, Langston, and Luci.
While I desperately wanted to play it cool, I wasn’t sure that was possible as Case and I headed down the stairs leading to Zeke’s office. My exhaustion disappeared as did the pain in my back. There was a strange buzzing in my head, as though I was walking the plank, and any second now, the floor would be ripped out from under me, leaving me at Zeke’s mercy.
Strange, huh? Yeah. My brain tended to do shit like that when I was nervous. Conjuring up nonsense.
I glanced around, noticing all the closed doors. The place was a ghost town today. The only warm body we’d encountered had been Dale back in the reception area, and from what I could tell from all the dark rooms, no one else was here.
While my imagination worked overtime to get away from me, I tried to remind myself that we were in an office building. Not a club. I seriously doubted I had anything to worry about with Zeke. Not like he was going to command us to strip naked in his office. Right?
Granted, that hadn’t stopped him on Trent’s personal jet during our trip from Dallas to Chicago. In fact, Trent had been in the next cabin. Not to mention, Troy, Clarissa, the pilot, and the flight attendant. They’d been on either side of the room where I ended up stripping buck-ass naked and kneeling for the big Sadist.
But this was an office building. A professional place. Nothing kinky should be going on here. Then again, I did recall the time I walked through, serenaded by the cacophony of Luci’s squeals while she was getting her ass paddled by one of her Doms. That was just last week sometime. They certainly hadn’t cared that anyone had overheard them.
Maybe I should be worried.
Once we made it down the stairs, I took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other. I’d noticed how Case was breathing a little roughly for someone in such good shape. The guy was built like a Mack truck, but he had the cardiovascular system of a damn runner. Which meant he was getting worked up from the mere prospect of seeing Zeke again.
For some reason, I was no longer worried what Zeke would do, I was worried he would do nothing at all.
I was depraved, no doubt about it.
I felt like a teenager being called to the principal’s office for something. I wanted to shove Case in front of me so I could hide behind him as we approached the open door to Zeke’s office.
“Hey, Zeke,” Case said in a ridiculous attempt to sound casual.
I wanted to laugh because the man nearly choked on his own words. I stifled it by squeezing my lips together.
“Pretty boy,” Zeke acknowledged from where he sat behind that massive desk.
I stepped around Case and took a good long look at the Sadist who plagued my thoughts. His bald head gleamed in the fluorescent lights above him, his dark eyebrows shadowed those piercing black eyes, and his thick beard framed the lips I’d fantasized about. Yep. I was a fucking mess because this man, who wasn’t attractive in the traditional sense—he was too aggressive-looking for that—made every cell in my body come alive.
“Cowboy,” Zeke smirked. “Nice hat.”
“Thanks.”
“You ever ride a horse, cowboy?”
“Yes, Sir.” I swallowed. “I mean, Zeke.”
“Ever ride a bull?”
For fuck’s sake. I actually started to sweat from that simple question.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Actually, yes. I have.” However, I got the feeling Zeke wasn’t referring to the four-legged version.
Tank chose that moment
to wander over and sniff my hand. I couldn’t resist petting the dog, even as I wondered how a beast like Zeke had ended up with the cutest damn dog I’d ever seen.
“Hey, Tank,” I greeted softly, letting my gaze naturally shift to the floor.
“We came by for the keys to the apartment,” Case said, his voice stronger than before.
I was impressed.
“Did you now?”
“Yes, Zeke,” he said obediently, a slight tremble making an appearance.
I’d bet money Case’s cock was as hard as a steel pipe right about now. Mine was, which was weird because I was still petting the dog.
Stop petting the dog, you dumb ass.
Standing up straight, I glanced over and noticed two keys sitting on the top of Zeke’s desk. Were those ours? Was he wanting us to grab them and turn around? This could’ve been a simple in and out, but Zeke made no move to get them.
“What’s in it for me?” Zeke asked, steepling his hands as he leaned back in his chair. It was a wonder the damn thing didn’t snap in two from the sheer weight of him alone. I’d venture to guess the man weighed somewhere between two sixty and two eighty. At six eight, he was a monster. Which had me curious as to the size of his dick.
No. Nix that. I wasn’t curious. I was here to get the keys. Then, if I couldn’t catch some Z’s, maybe I’d find some coffee and I could get on with my day.
“What would you like?” Case asked.
Christ Almighty. That was not a question you asked Zeke Lautner. The gleam in his eyes alone said he was thinking all sorts of things and I doubted a single one of them didn’t involve some sort of humiliation.
Strangely, that made my cock harder.
Zeke motioned across the room. “Have a seat.”
It wasn’t a request, it was a command. One that had Case and me moving across the room even as I wondered why the rush.
I’d long ago stopped questioning the perversion I had when it came to Domination and submission. It wasn’t something I’d experienced until after I came to work for Trent. Oh, sure, I’d gotten off a few times to an ex-boyfriend wanting to pull my hair or nail me to the wall. Aggressive sex had always turned me on. But it wasn’t until I’d witnessed a scene at Dichotomy between a Sadist and a masochist that I’d truly understood some of the darkness that fueled me. It was then that I’d realized I hadn’t even scratched the surface of the true depth of my depravity.
However, my desire to explore Zeke’s particular brand of Sadism had been cemented the night I watched as Zeke took over a scene with Case. Another Dom had offered to flog Case in an effort to get him off. It was the very reason we went to Dichotomy. We sought the release that came with scenes of that nature.
Case and I had come to the understanding back in the beginning that we needed to experiment to see how to sate some of the deeper urges we had. And we’d agreed to do it together. So, as long as we were at the club, we rode the wave where it took us. We’d scened numerous times with various Doms, and our limits were minimal. The only rule we had was that we discussed the scenes afterward, in depth. It was important to us that we kept each other in the loop as to which direction our desires were headed.
I’d known from the beginning that I could never give Case everything he truly needed when it came to sex. While my kink leaned toward the humiliation department, Case was into serious pain. The sort I couldn’t inflict even on my worst day. I was sure a therapist would’ve had a field day outlining the cause of Case’s obsession. Surely there was something in his past—abusive parents, neglectful family, inappropriate contact with someone in his life—that had molded him into what he was today.
While I got the feeling something had caused Case to seek the pain, he insisted otherwise. Aside from having sex at an early age—he’d lost his virginity at the ripe young age of fifteen—Case insisted he’d had a normal upbringing. Nothing that would trigger a need to be beaten. I knew in my soul that when Case told me he was mentally intact that he wasn’t lying. His parents were still married and we’d spent quite a bit of time with them over the course of our relationship. They didn’t have an issue with Case being gay or even that he had a fondness for kink clubs. They were actually more tolerant than most people I knew.
Sometimes, people just needed things they couldn’t explain.
I agreed with that sentiment; however, I still believed there was something in Case’s past that had him seeking someone to deliver pain that most people purposely ran from.
After we had taken a seat on the couch, Zeke continued to stare at us without saying a word. I didn’t look him in the eye, even as I admired the hard lines of his face, the angle of his nose, the aggressive slant of his eyebrows. The man scared me, had from the moment I met him. But it was the sort of fear that made me feel alive, made me crave the darkness I could see in his aura.
“I can only assume I didn’t scare you off completely,” he finally said, pivoting his chair so that he was facing us.
The office was large, with a wall of windows that offered a shitty view of another building. Granted, it allowed sunlight to filter in, which was a good thing. Aside from the monstrous desk, there was the black leather couch we were currently seated on, two chairs facing Zeke’s desk, a four-drawer black metal file cabinet, and an overstuffed, navy-blue dog bed in the far corner, where Tank had retreated. There weren’t any pictures on the wall, no diplomas or other certificates. Nothing personal, either. On the desk was a laptop computer, a banker’s lamp and the keys I assumed were for our apartment.
In a word, the office was bare. Almost minimalistic in nature. As though Zeke didn’t spend any time in here and when he did, it was simply to work and nothing else.
“You didn’t scare us off, Zeke,” I said when it was obvious Case wasn’t going to respond.
“Yet.” He sounded as though he truly believed we might be gone on the next strong breeze. In fact, I got the feeling Zeke did his best to get people to run far and fast away from him.
Despite my curiosity about the man, I hadn’t asked around the club for fear word would get back to him. I couldn’t imagine it would go over well if Zeke found out we were trying to get the lowdown on him. When most people said his name, it was either in awe or pure terror.
Personally, I felt a significant amount of both when I was this close to him.
Yet I couldn’t even fathom walking away.
FOUR
ZEKE
I SHOULD’VE TOSSED THEM THE keys when they appeared in the doorway. In mere seconds, they could’ve been on their way and I could get back to doing the shit I needed to be doing. It would’ve been the smart thing to do.
Despite my college degree and my rather high IQ, no one had ever accused me of being smart. Most of the adjectives associated with me were in line with enormous, mean, sadistic, and intolerant.
Enormous and sadistic, sure. I would admit to those. Mean and intolerant … no. I didn’t see it. Nor was I a glutton for punishment.
Which begged the question: what the hell was I doing entertaining the notion of fucking these boys’ lives up by getting involved with them?
Unfortunately for all three of us, I didn’t have an answer.
I could only think it had everything to do with that scene I’d interrupted at Dichotomy. When I’d whipped the pretty boy until he was flying so fucking high I feared for a moment he would never come back down, a strange obsession had followed. Watching him mutter and moan as the tails did all but split his skin wide open had fueled me in a way I hadn’t experienced in quite some time. Seeing my stripes on his back had stirred the beast within and now he was taking over.
I’d dreamed about it since. Strapping the pretty boy’s beautiful naked ass up and beating him black and blue, pushing him harder until he whimpered and cried, pleading for me to stop. Only then would I give him enough to send him over the edge. Admittedly, I’d been surprised by his pain threshold. Once I’d witnessed it for myself, I had wondered whether anyone before me had ever giv
en him what he needed.
As for the cowboy … I’d had some rather interesting thoughts about him, too. Most of them consisted of me laying him out, burying my fingers in his ass, and fucking him so goddamn hard he was crying out with the need to come. My cock always followed my fingers as I chased my release, brutally nailing him as hard and as deep as I could. And every damn time, they were both begging me to never stop.
It wasn’t until I’d found them fucking in the shower that I realized the two of them had a relationship. Not that I cared. As long as they were willing, I didn’t give a fuck what they did in their spare time. I didn’t give a shit who their parents were, whether they had a good relationship with their siblings. It didn’t matter to me if they’d graduated from high school with honors or by the skin of their teeth. I couldn’t care less if they called their mommas every damn day or hadn’t spoken in ten years. I didn’t need to know anything about them personally and that was the way I liked it.
Entertaining the idea of dominating them made sense. I needed it. They needed it. Being on a first-name basis with them was not on the table.
I could see the fear in their eyes, the terror warring with excitement. I knew they wanted the unique brand of pain I could give them, which had me curious as to how two masochists—one with a ridiculously high threshold for pain—had ended up together. It was a question I would ponder but never ask. I had no desire to get to know them. I wasn’t here to be their friend or their lover.
I could offer only one thing: to make their deepest, darkest fantasies come true. In return, they would offer me one thing: complete and total surrender.
Their Ruthless Sadist (Office Intrigue, 5) Page 5
