Their Ruthless Sadist (Office Intrigue, 5)

by Nicole Edwards

  Her nose crinkled. “Eww.” A quick smile followed and she darted the rest of the way up.

  “Now finish eating,” Zeke commanded, his voice low. “Because when she leaves, I’ve got plans for the two of you.”

  That now familiar sense of anticipation shot through me and I turned my attention back to my breakfast.

  TWELVE

  ZEKE

  ALMOST THE MINUTE JAMIE GOT Greg’s number, she came up with some excuse as to why she had to leave. Something about forgetting she was supposed to meet a friend at the library. I knew it was bullshit, but I didn’t bother to stop her. I had other things on my mind and they involved two naked masochists.

  “Once you’ve cleaned up,” I told the pretty boy, “I want you to meet me in the basement.” I turned to the cowboy. “And you go shower, then come down there.”

  While they took care of their assigned tasks, I headed down to the basement. Not only was it my home gym, it also held a few toys I’d acquired over the years. Granted, I had yet to use my personal stash of torture devices on anyone because I did not bring submissives to my house to play. Before the cowboy and the pretty boy, only one submissive had ever been in my personal space, but that was years ago. Before I’d decided to beef up my personal playroom.

  I flipped on the music but kept it out of the ear-bleeding range while I got a few things set up for my new fuck toys.

  Ever since my encounter with the pretty boy last night, I’d been eager to get my hands on the cowboy. I’d sent him to bed without touching him, despite the desperate urge I’d had. It was imperative that I show restraint when it came to them. Otherwise, they would get the wrong impression. And I was nothing if not controlled.

  The pretty boy came down first, his eyes widening when he took in the space.

  “This setup is impressive,” he said, his gaze rolling over the racks of weights and the various machines I’d purchased. “Gym-quality machines?”

  I nodded. I figured the pretty boy might approve considering his career choice. The man’s entire life was built around helping people get into the best shape they could.

  “You’ve got everything you need here,” he said absently. “You don’t go to a gym?”

  “No. Not a fan of people wanting to sit around and chat.” When I worked out, I worked out. I spent a few hours down here almost every day. Not only because I was intent to maintain my physique, but also because it allowed me to clear my head. Some people used alcohol, drugs, or some other vice to chase the demons away. I used weights.

  “You’ve put a lot of thought into the setup,” he said, his eyes still scanning the room.

  “Glad you approve,” I said blandly. “Now I want you naked.”

  He nodded. His gaze continued to bounce around the room as he removed his jeans, laying them over one of the nearby workout benches.

  Good thing for him that wasn’t the sort of bench I was interested in using today. Nope, we would be getting one hell of a workout, but it wouldn’t be with weights.

  I removed a cloth cover I kept over my most recent purchase—a steel spanking bench that I’d found online from a company that custom built BDSM equipment. The A-frame legs were sturdy, designed to handle the abuse it would undoubtedly endure. It was magnificently designed, with roughly two dozen hooks that would allow me to restrain my toy any way that I saw fit.

  The pretty boy’s eyes shifted to the bench, but he didn’t say a word.

  “This isn’t for you,” I informed him, noticing his disappointment. “Don’t worry. You’ll enjoy what I’ve got in store.”

  After going into the closet and retrieving a set of iron cuffs, I motioned the pretty boy to follow me. I hooked the heavy iron manacles to a set of chains I had fixed to the concrete wall. I’d installed the hooks myself so I knew they would hold up to damn near anything.

  “Put your back to the wall,” I instructed.

  The pretty boy got into position and I fixed the cuffs to his wrists, then pulled the chains until his arms were spread out to his sides, as taut as I could get them without pulling. I did the same with his ankles, forcing his legs wide. I wasn’t using the cheesy padded leather restraints that would ensure his comfort for this scene. That wasn’t my style. I had no intention of ensuring he was comfortable.

  I stood tall and stepped up to him, gripping his jaw between my fingers, then held up a small round bell so he could see.

  “As you probably remember, I’m not giving you a safe word. However, if something goes wrong, I do expect you to inform me. Since you won’t be able to speak, this will be your only way of signaling if there’s a problem.”

  His eyes shot to the bell. Once he got a good look at it, I tucked it into his right hand. It was small, but loud enough to be effective.

  “Should you need to stop the scene, ring it. But it better be because you’re bleeding or about to lose a limb.” I shot him a malevolent grin. “If I hear that bell for any other reason, you will be punished. So I suggest you don’t drop it.”

  His eyes were already glazing over, his desire evident. “Yes, Zeke.”

  I’d noticed the pretty boy had been quiet for most of the morning. While he had engaged with my sister, he hadn’t spoken directly to me. I couldn’t quite read his body language yet, but I didn’t peg him for the strong silent type. Which meant he was likely adjusting to his new surroundings, attempting to figure out what I had in store for him.

  I left him cuffed to the wall while I retrieved the other items I needed for him.

  “Since the day I met you, I’ve thought about this,” I told him as I held up the thick, stainless-steel ring. “Do you know what it is?”

  “A cock ring,” the pretty boy said, his breaths coming in a little faster.

  “It’s called a crown of thorns,” I explained, holding it there so he could admire. “Each of these little screws has a point on it. Once it’s in place, I’ll show you what it feels like.”

  A minute later, I was working the steel ring over the head of his cock. It took a minute to get it in place because he was already semi-hard. This was a particularly fun toy to play with. The steel circle had six holes drilled through, where tiny, pointed screws were threaded, the sharp ends providing a similar sensation to the parachute harness I’d used last night. Only this was applied directly to his cock, just beneath the head. The pinpricks would stimulate the nerves in his dick, enhancing his torture.

  “Relax,” I instructed. “Think about algebra because I need you soft for a minute.”

  “Not sure I can do that, Zeke,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re touching my dick and … well, that kinda does it for me.”

  I chuckled at his honesty. Even in a situation like this, the pretty boy kept his wits. He would be fun to play with.

  Knowing I wouldn’t have much time before he was rock hard, I worked the ring in place with lube, ensuring it was secure. The metal thorns were currently retracted, so he wouldn’t feel them yet; however, the weight of the ring would be enough to keep his attention.

  When I stood to my full height, I held up the small hex key that was used to tighten the screws. “Hold this for a minute.” I placed it between his teeth. “Don’t drop it.”

  I headed back into the closet to get the last item I would use to torture the pretty boy with. I was coming out when I heard footsteps on the stairs. The cowboy appeared, his hair still wet from his shower. His eyes went wide when he noticed the pretty boy already chained to the wall.

  “Strip and then come here,” I commanded as I made my way back to the pretty boy.

  A minute later, the cowboy was by my side, both of us admiring my handiwork.

  “He does make quite the art piece, huh?” I said casually.

  “That he does,” the cowboy confirmed.

  Admittedly, the pretty boy was damn nice to look at. Thick and muscular, his body was meant to be on display. The way his biceps bunched as he shifted his arms, his thick thighs flexed when he attempted to shift his weight.
I could probably stand there and look at him all damn day. From the alluring lines of his body to his sinfully beautiful cock.

  “Tease his nipples until they’re hard,” I instructed the cowboy. “With your fingers, then your mouth.”

  “Yes, Zeke,” the cowboy said obediently.

  I stepped back and watched as the cowboy moved closer. Their eyes met and I could see the desire they ignited in one another. I was curious as to how two masochists had ended up together, but when I looked at them, it seemed rather obvious. They had a distinct physical attraction to one another, but there was something more. A connection.

  The cowboy’s fingers plucked the pretty boy’s nipples as they stared back at one another. I found I liked that they had a connection. It meant scenes such as this one would have more of an impact on both of them. BDSM was as much mental as it was physical. Being that they cared about one another, they would likely have issues with the other being taken by a man like me. The concern for the other’s well-being would be pivotal in the outcome.

  The cowboy touched with the care of someone who knew what his partner enjoyed. He didn’t hesitate to apply the necessary pain to get the pretty boy groaning in earnest. He wasn’t rough, and he didn’t tweak the pretty boy’s nipples the way I would have, but he was getting the job done.

  When he leaned forward and bit the pretty boy’s nipple, my cock hardened. Strangely, I enjoyed watching one give the other pain. It was an aphrodisiac. Not quite as rewarding as doing it myself, but I could get used to this.

  I gave them a minute before I stepped in.

  With the precision of a man who was familiar with his own toys, I hooked the nipple clamps to the pretty boy, ensuring they were secured. These weren’t the cheap little tweezer clamps that would fall off. These were stainless-steel nipple vises. Exactly what the pretty boy needed.

  I watched his face as I checked the grips, his protruding nipple clamped securely between the small vise, paying close attention to his responses.

  “Does it hurt?”

  The pretty boy nodded, hissing when I squeezed the right clamp a little tighter.

  I was after his pain, but it wasn’t about injuring him. It took a couple of minutes, but I got the vises where they needed to be, compressing his nipples. Although the pretty boy made no sound, his teeth were clenched, a signal that he was feeling what I wanted him to feel. If he wasn’t careful, he would bite that damn key in half.

  After retrieving the last item and taking the cock ring key from between his teeth, I reached down and grabbed his dick, stroking firmly.

  “Remember what I said about the bell, pretty boy. Don’t let me hear it unless you mean it.”

  “Yes, Zeke.”

  “Anything I should know before I add this?” I asked, holding up the ball gag. “Any adjustments I need to make?”

  “No, Zeke.” His chest was expanding rapidly, his cock hard between my fist.

  “Very good.”

  After pressing the ball into his mouth and connecting the strap behind his head, I used the key to screw the metal thorns through the cock ring, allowing him to feel the pressure of the spiked points. He hissed, his cock growing harder with every turn of the screw until he was moaning softly.

  When I stood, I checked him one more time, observing his breaths, his eyes, the way his hands dangled from the manacles.

  He appeared content, and that meant it was time to take care of the cowboy.

  *

  Case

  (The pretty boy)

  ZEKE LAUTNER WAS A VERY creative man, but I’d known that before he had invited me to his house to be his personal fuck toy and put a collar around my neck to prove ownership. I’d seen him in the club, attempted to get his attention a time or two, even.

  However, I hadn’t expected this.

  When I agreed to what he wanted, signed a contract that offered myself up freely to this man, part of me figured we’d be spending quite a bit of time at Dichotomy. It seemed he was there often, so I figured that was where he chose to play.

  I was wrong.

  I wouldn’t say I was disappointed, either. I liked the idea of playing at home, not saving that experience for an audience. It meant I would always be wondering what he had in store for us next.

  The instant I stepped into his basement, I’d known he had something devious cooked up for me and Brax. Granted, I hadn’t known what, and I hadn’t considered being manacled to the wall with a torture device circling just below the head of my dick, vise clamps of hell on my nipples, or this fucking gag in my mouth.

  It was heaven. Perhaps that made me sound warped and twisted, but that was exactly what I was.

  If I were to get in a room with a therapist, I was sure she could pinpoint the exact reason I was the way I was. I couldn’t deny one particular experience in my life had pushed me toward this path. I tried not to think about it because it was something that never should’ve happened. However, it had irrevocably changed me. I’d long ago stopped making excuses for who I was. I had no desire to change and that meant I had to embrace the man I’d become.

  Zeke was going to be the one man who could possibly wipe everything away and give me something else to focus on. Unlike before, I was a willing participant. Eager and willing to see just how far he would push.

  And he hadn’t wasted any time either. In fact, I got the feeling he’d gone easy on us last night by allowing us to sleep in regular beds. The man who had restrained me to the wall had lost that subtle softness he’d allowed a glimpse of last night. In its place, the ruthless Sadist I’d been obsessing about lately.

  Oddly enough, I had woken up with the feeling that I was out of my league. That probably had a lot to do with the rules and protocols Zeke had the two of us sign late last night—or rather, early this morning. Anyway. It was an amendment to the contract we’d signed at the club. Zeke had presented the rules to us after we ate one of Brax’s phenomenal meals, laying it on the table with the instruction for us to read every word before signing. I had. It was more hard-core than I’d anticipated, cementing Zeke’s promise that we would have no limits and no say. For lack of a better term, we were officially his slaves.

  After I’d signed the form and handed it over to Zeke, he had insisted I go up to my new room and sleep. I’d spent the night in a strange bed, and for the first time in a very long time, Brax hadn’t been beside me. I hadn’t cared much for that part, but I understood it. Didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about sneaking into Brax’s room and crawling into bed with him. I had refrained because before we went our separate ways last night, Brax had kissed me thoroughly and said he was looking forward to seeing this through, to enduring whatever Zeke had in store for us. No way could I deny the man I loved an experience like this.

  But I was no martyr. We all knew I wasn’t only doing this for Brax’s benefit. After the scene at the club last night and the time I’d spent in Zeke’s shower, I was looking forward to what he had in store for us. And based on this setup, Zeke had something wickedly kinky in mind. I got the feeling the restraints and various torture jewelry he’d applied to my body were nothing compared to the show he was about to put on.

  “This, cowboy, is for you,” Zeke said, patting the top of the vinyl-covered spanking bench.

  I’d seen plenty of these in my day, having been strapped down to a number of them. This one, though, was top-of-the-line and appeared to be crafted for endurance. I’d even go so far as to say Zeke had this one built specifically with himself in mind. Based on the height, once Brax was in position, his ass would be at the perfect height for Zeke to fuck him if he so chose. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, either. I’d watched Brax scene before, but I had never witnessed another man fucking him. The idea had both curiosity and concern warring inside me.

  That was what was known as a mind fuck.

  For me, of course. Not necessarily Brax. He would be at Zeke’s mercy once he was strapped down, which would be a mind fuck of its own. I, however, would be forced to
watch whatever it was Zeke decided to do to him.

  With a swift go-ahead motion, Zeke urged Brax up onto the bench. He got into position on all fours, his chest lying flat on the vinyl-padded center, his hands and knees supported on padded bars that ran the length of it. The lower half of his body was at the end of the padded center, his cock hanging down, his ass tilted slightly upward.

  “Get comfortable,” Zeke said with a devious snarl. “You’re gonna be here a while.”

  Brax shifted a couple of times, and the moment he stilled, Zeke went to work strapping him down. His wrists were cuffed so his hands wouldn’t move, two straps were pulled over his back—one over his shoulder blades, the other right above his ass—and tightly secured so he couldn’t lift up his chest. His calves were then banded to the bench beneath his knees and then his ankles, keeping his legs firmly in place. And finally, Zeke hooked something to Brax’s collar, which kept him from moving his head to the side. He was forced to look forward, unable to see what Zeke would be doing to him.

  From my position on the wall, I had a perfect view of Brax’s ass, which was pointed upward as though in offering. I’d fucked that ass many, many times and I would never tire of seeing him in that position. His thick cock and heavy balls hung down, completely vulnerable to Zeke’s devious intentions.

  “I went easy on you at the club last night, cowboy,” Zeke told him as he walked around, admiring his handiwork. “You’re not gonna be so lucky this go-round.”

  I couldn’t see Brax’s face, but I could tell by the relaxed position of his body, he was okay with that.

  Zeke disappeared into that closet once more, and when he returned, he was carrying a silicone paddle and a ball gag. He paused at the door, then reached over and turned up the music. It was loud, but not so loud we wouldn’t hear Zeke talking.

  He laid the paddle across Brax’s back, then went to work fixing the gag into his mouth. It was a constant reminder of the gag I currently had stuffed in my mouth. I could moan and groan all I wanted, but it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference. Aside from that, I was pretty much limited to drooling, and the more I tried to say something, the more I would. Not a pretty sight.