Their Ruthless Sadist (Office Intrigue, 5)

by Nicole Edwards

  I tried to picture her as my little sister, but I had a hard time. It would’ve made tonight a hell of a lot easier if I could. Only then it would be weird because I couldn’t fathom introducing my sister into this world. In fact, that would be rather creepy.

  Not helping, Edge.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah. That inner voice was being a pain in the ass. Had been ever since Ransom Bishop had come up with this absurd idea and Zeke had gone along with it. I had to believe Zeke was suffering some sort of mental breakdown. The man was so protective of his sister, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a long list of injuries sustained at that man’s hands. Any man who wanted to so much as take the girl for coffee probably had endured a broken finger or two.

  I shook out my hand. Like my balls, I’d grown quite attached to my fingers.

  For fuck’s sake, Edge. Grow a pair, would ya?

  “Master Edge?”

  I turned to see Angela Evans strolling my way. She was one of the submissives on duty here at Dichotomy, the red studded collar around her neck a sign that she was here in an official capacity.

  “Yes, Angela?”

  “There’s a guest waiting for you at the check-in point.”

  Fucking lovely.

  Part of me had been hoping Jamie would freak out at the last second and be a no-show. I couldn’t get that lucky.

  “Thanks,” I told Angela as I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. No way could I give Jamie the proper introduction if I was a freaked-out mess.

  You’re a Dom, for fuck’s sake. Act like one.

  I hated that damn voice, but it seemed to be there more and more these days. I wasn’t sure why it thought I needed a mental push, but there it was, always shoving me forward. It was almost as though I was stuck in a rut, and without it, I would likely find myself sitting at home, my hand down my pants as I ate pizza in front of the television.

  And what? Have a beer or two? Get fat and lazy? Come up with an excuse to be alone?

  As I was making my way to the front entrance, I passed Ransom and I couldn’t miss that wicked grin on his face.

  Yeah, buddy. We’re doing the death march. Are you happy?

  Ransom Bishop was an instigator. He enjoyed the hell out of setting things in motion. He was always inserting himself in various situations, motivating people to do things they likely wouldn’t do otherwise. All so he could sit back and laugh.

  Somehow, I’d fallen into his trap and I hoped for his sake I walked out the other side in one piece. Otherwise, I was going to beat him within an inch of his life.

  I approached the front entrance, fully expecting to see Jamie standing there. Probably decked out in jeans and a T-shirt, not understanding what fetish wear was or why it was standard protocol in a club of this nature. However, I didn’t see anyone out of place as I scanned the area.

  My eyes shifted to the bar. Two Doms were standing there chatting. No submissives. I peered into the Dom lounge but I only noticed Mistress Jane speaking to Mistress D while four male submissives knelt on the floor at their feet.

  Maybe she bolted before you could get here.

  I turned, ready to head up to the front desk to see if she’d done exactly that when my gaze landed on a young woman standing to the left of the scanning room where everyone was patted down to ensure they didn’t have weapons or video equipment.

  Holy mother of God.

  Yeah. I really needed that voice to shut the hell up. It was hard enough to breathe without his interference because … holy mother of God.

  There was six feet of lithe brunette watching me, her long limbs drawing my attention as I took her in from head to toe. Not an inch of denim was covering her. Then again, the brown and gold corset she wore didn’t cover much of her, either. It cinched in her trim waist and highlighted her breasts, cleavage cascading deliciously over the top edge, which hugged her breasts lovingly. The brown spandex boy shorts covered her private parts but did nothing to hide those long, long legs.

  For fuck’s sake. Say something, dumb ass.

  “Master Edge?”

  I forced a smile as I composed myself, allowing my Dom face to fall into place. Ogling this woman wasn’t an option and I needed to remember that.

  “Jamie, you look … lovely.”

  She smiled and her face was so radiant it damn near blinded me. On a normal day, I wasn’t one to wax poetic about a woman’s smile, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Thank you.” Her chest bloomed with color and the sweet rosy red inched upward until it highlighted her cheeks. It was in that moment that I noticed how fucking young she was. She was ten years younger than Zeke, which made her twenty-three or twenty-four.

  Twenty-fucking-anything was insane for me to consider. I was thirty-six, which made this girl twelve years younger than me at the very least.

  It’s not like you’re old enough to be her father.

  Well, technically, I probably was. Not that I’d been having sex at the age of thirteen, but it would’ve been shortly thereafter.

  “Thank you so much for allowing me to come here tonight,” she said sweetly.

  “It’s my pleasure to have you as my guest.”

  Her brown eyes darted around and the curiosity I saw there made my dick stir with anticipation. I fought it back, reminding myself she wasn’t just any submissive who was looking to explore this world for the first time.

  She was Zeke Lautner’s sister.

  She was an innocent.

  She was off-limits.

  How the hell had I allowed Zeke to talk me into this?

  TWENTY-THREE

  ZEKE

  BY THE TIME I HAD the cowboy decked out as a dog, I was glad I’d had the forethought to prepare for all sorts of scenarios.

  I’d never had the desire to dress a submissive up like a pet, but there was something about the cowboy that told me he was the perfect submissive for it. And I enjoyed the hell out of it. Especially seeing him like this. Not in a sexual way, mind you. I had some serious kinks, but that didn’t work for me, for whatever reason.

  However, everyone knew I loved Tank like my very own child. I could see taking care of the cowboy the same way. Ensuring he was protected and cherished. Giving him the full experience of being my pet.

  “All right, time for bed.”

  I resisted putting the cowboy’s leash on him. There was no point since we were inside. However, tomorrow night at the club I would find great pleasure in leading him around while he crawled on all fours.

  The cowboy was completely naked, which was necessary to ensure he felt vulnerable. The mask he wore covered his entire head, only his eyes visible. The ears were a nice touch, too. I would take the muzzle off the mask so he could sleep. Otherwise, I would be concerned he couldn’t breathe. Like I’d told him, pain wasn’t the end goal here. He should be mentally challenged, not physically uncomfortable.

  Rather than wait for the cowboy to crawl his way up the stairs, I went ahead of them. While they took their time navigating the hard wooden planks, I let Tank out into the yard to take care of business. He hurried and returned in time for us to see the cowboy making his way up the second flight of stairs to the bedroom.

  Was he already regretting his request for punishment? Would I wake up to find them both gone in the morning? Would they slip out in the middle of the night in order to avoid having to endure my wrath? It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if they did.

  The crawling on all fours—even with the pads on his knees and hands—certainly didn’t look comfortable. But I wasn’t worried. After all, I was allowing him to sleep in my bed. Like I’d told him, the cage would’ve been ideal, but with his six-foot-three-inch frame, it would’ve been impossible for him to shift. I wasn’t worried about his comfort, but I didn’t want to put unnecessary strain on his body. Crawling and kneeling at all times was going to be hard enough.

  Perhaps I was soft in that regard.

  Then again, I had a human crawling on all fours like a dog. And in a few h
ours, I suspected I’d be letting him out to do his business in the yard. That was going to be an interesting feat.

  The thought made me smile.

  *

  Saturday, October 20

  “Holy fuck, man. That is some hard-core shit,” the baby Dom said when he approached me in the main-floor Doms’ lounge.

  I didn’t know this one’s name, but that wasn’t unusual. I wasn’t the sort to befriend a lot of people at the club. While I cherished those I had become close with, I didn’t make a point to make more friends, because that wasn’t why I was here. Not the biggest reason, anyway.

  I tried to ignore the baby Dom as he stepped closer to the cowboy, who was kneeling at my feet, his mask covering his entire face, his eyes the only thing visible. With him and the pretty boy so close, any Dom would know they belonged to me. However, if that wasn’t enough, the fact they were collared and I was holding the cowboy’s leash should’ve been a telltale sign, which meant they were off-limits.

  The baby Dom was pushing his limits.

  Plus, I was in the middle of a conversation with someone, so the interruption was rude.

  “Does he bite?” the baby Dom laughed, and I shot him a glare.

  When he reached to touch the cowboy, I shot to my feet and stared him down. “I don’t recall giving you permission to touch my submissive. If you want to keep the hand, you’ll keep it to yourself.”

  Wary eyes shot to my face, but the smirk said he thought I was kidding.

  “Whatever, man. You’re too uptight. I was just admiring your work. If you didn’t want anyone to pet him, you should’ve left him caged at home.”

  I took another step closer, but before I could get there, Trent inched between me and the guy who was about to have his face rearranged.

  The baby Dom’s face lit up. “Hey, Trent. How’s it going? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  I growled from behind Trent.

  “It’s going well.” Trent motioned for the baby Dom to head out of the lounge. “Come on, let’s go chat at the bar.”

  The baby Dom was smart enough to keep his eye on me as he headed out. I snarled, a silent warning that my submissive pet wasn’t the animal he should fear most.

  “Who the fuck do these newbies think they are? And who teaches them it’s okay to touch another Dom’s submissive?” Ransom grumbled from his spot across from me.

  I took my seat once more and placed my hand on the cowboy’s head. I had to admit, he had done far better than I thought he would. Not once today had he done anything he shouldn’t have. I knew it had to be difficult to move around on all fours. But that was likely the easy part. The fact I had a plug in his ass and he was forced to eat and drink from bowls on the floor was likely driving him insane. But honestly, I figured the no speaking part was the hardest. Not once had he so much as uttered a word.

  He was taking his punishment like a champ.

  “It’s disgusting,” Mistress Jane said, crossing one shapely leg over the other. “I’m not sure how they get into this place, either.”

  That comment had me looking around, because I knew exactly who was responsible for allowing the baby Doms in. “Where’s Edge at, anyway?”

  Ransom’s eyes shot from my face to the far wall. He was hiding something. Something big, but I didn’t know what it was.

  I inhaled sharply when I remembered my sister had been here last night.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” I growled, leaning forward as I pinned him in place with a stare. “Where the fuck is Edge? If you tell me he’s with my sister, I’m gonna castrate him. His last meal will be his own balls.”

  Mistress Jane laughed. “It’s fine, Zeke. Your sister was in good hands last night. I’ll spare you the details, but I was here the entire night, and I assure you, you would’ve approved.”

  I seriously doubted that.

  I leaned back and took a deep breath. I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with Jamie and her interaction at the club. I didn’t want to know the details of what transpired. That was why I had stayed away.

  “Master Zeke?” one of the submissives on duty said when she came to stand in front of me. “Your scene is set up and ready for you.”

  I nodded my head in acknowledgment, then glanced down at my fuck toys. The cowboy was kneeling on my left and the pretty boy sitting on my right. I didn’t usually permit submissives to accompany me into the Doms’ lounge, but tonight I made an exception. I figured they deserved it after last night.

  “I’m betting this is gonna be good,” Mistress Jane said, sliding her hands together. “I’m looking forward to this one.”

  “Everyone enjoys a good caning,” Ransom noted as he pushed to his feet.

  I felt the pretty boy stiffen near my leg. I had yet to fill him in on the details, but it appeared the cat was now out of the bag. Leave it to Ransom, the instigating fucker.

  “Oh, sorry.” His smile was wicked and held absolutely no apology. “Did he not know?”

  I flipped him off, then pushed to my feet.

  “Just for that, I’m gonna leave you in charge of my pet,” I told him as I passed over the cowboy’s leash. “Do not let him out of your sight and do not let anyone touch him.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure to look after him.” He took the leash and tugged. “Come on, Rover. Let’s head that way. We may need a few extra minutes.”

  I turned to Jane. “Would you mind handling aftercare?”

  “Not at all,” she said sweetly, but there was a look in her eyes, something I’d never seen before. As though she was expecting me to be different.

  In fact, I’d noticed several of my good friends watching me closely tonight and I wasn’t sure why. Nor did I care for them to enlighten me.

  “Come on, pretty boy. Let’s get you taken care of.”

  *

  Brax

  (The cowboy)

  WHEN I DIE, I HOPE like hell I don’t come back as a dog.

  That thought continued to run through my head because this shit was not for the faint of heart.

  And it wasn’t necessarily being naked or sporting leather paws or even the uncomfortable plug in my ass. I’d gotten used to those relatively quickly. Granted, the fact that Zeke insisted on removing the plug and reinserting it later wasn’t my favorite thing in the world, but I understood his reasoning.

  Of course, taking a shit outside … yeah, that was a memory I hoped to banish from my mind right quick.

  Honestly, the most difficult part was having to eat from a bowl. Drinking water had proven to be damn near impossible because I was expected to lap it up, which meant by the end of the weekend I would definitely be dehydrated. However, it wasn’t necessarily how I was being forced to eat but what I was being forced to eat.

  No, Zeke wasn’t insisting that I eat Tank’s food, although it might have been better than Case’s cooking. The man was not meant to be in the kitchen. Of course, since I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t complain, nor could I tell him how to do it right. I figured that was just another way for Zeke to punish me.

  I couldn’t wait for Monday morning to get here. I was ready to stand up again. If Zeke allowed, I would spend the entire day in the kitchen, working on a masterpiece that would ensure Case would never be allowed the opportunity to wield a spatula ever again.

  “Your master wants to ensure you have a front row seat,” Master Bishop informed me when we finally made it down to the dungeon.

  My knees, although protected by the pads, still ached. Every move was a painful reminder that I had learned to walk for a reason. Not only did crawling wear on the bones, it required a ridiculous amount of time to get from one place to another. The sidewalk had been especially brutal. And yes, Zeke had required me to crawl in from the truck on my hands and knees. Thankfully, he’d at least draped me with a blanket. Otherwise, I would likely be in jail for public indecency.

  I noticed people were getting out of my way quickly, their gazes slowly inching over me as I passed. I’d garn
ered a lot of attention since we walked into the club. Thankfully, the dog mask covered most of my face, which helped because I was sure I was red as a beet. This wasn’t my finest moment. When I had requested punishment, not once had this scenario crossed my mind. Then again, I’d learned not to attempt to figure Zeke out. His mind was its own brand of warped and twisted, so it didn’t necessarily surprise me, either.

  On the plus side, I was getting to sleep in a bed. The negative to that was that Case was still sleeping under the bed by himself.

  The one thing I’d learned in all of this was to never, ever, ever ask Zeke Lautner for punishment and do everything in my power not to earn it in the future.

  Truth was, I didn’t mind being forced to crawl around like a dog or to be treated like one for that matter. The humiliation was its own perverse brand of eroticism. I couldn’t explain it if someone forced me to, but I had long ago stopped making excuses for my desires. I figured we were all programmed the way we were for a reason. I was a much happier man having accepted that. And I had Case to thank because he had opened my eyes to a whole new world.

  Speaking of Case…

  Zeke appeared in front of me, Case following close behind him. My peripheral vision was blocked by the mask, but I could sense there were people gathering around us. As long as no one stepped in front of me, I would have a front row seat for Zeke’s special blend of torture. I had never been caned before, and honestly, if I had a hard limit, that would be it. From what I’d heard, it wasn’t all that fun. Then again, neither was being a dog.

  “Have you ever been caned before, pretty boy?” Zeke asked, his voice low and menacing but loud enough everyone around me stopped talking.

  “Yes, Zeke,” he answered easily.

  From what I could tell, Case was relaxed, perhaps even eager. Knowing him, he was already floating on a cloud.

  “Then you know how this will work,” Zeke said. “Which position do you prefer? Lying flat, bending over, or standing?”

  “Bending over, Zeke.”

  “Very nice.” He motioned toward the spanking bench, which, oddly enough, seemed to be the piece Zeke had selected already.