The Sadist completed them.
The human was a failure.
*
Case
(The pretty boy)
“ZEKE’S HOME,” I TOLD BRAX when I heard the man’s truck pull into the driveway.
I strolled over to the window, watching as Zeke sat in his truck, his eyes forward, his hands gripping the wheel.
“Something’s wrong, Brax,” I muttered, unable to look away from the sight.
“What do you mean?” He stepped up beside me.
“He looks … upset.”
Brax took a deep breath. “He’s upset at me,” he said, as though that was the only logical explanation. “It’s time I fix this.”
I turned to the man I loved, watching his face, trying to read his mind. He’d been melancholy all day, sulking in a way I wasn’t familiar with. Whatever his reasons for provoking Zeke yesterday afternoon, he was regretting that he had.
“What are you gonna do?”
“Apologize.” He peered over at me. “Like I said, I owe it to him.”
My attention returned to the window when Brax started undressing right there in the living room. I watched Zeke, wondering what he was thinking about. He’d been pissed yesterday, storming out after his scene with Brax. He’d been prickly for the rest of the day, too. He’d sent Brax and me to bed early, instructing us to put on the chastity devices and sleep in the cage, but he didn’t join us.
At some point during the night, he must’ve come up, but I didn’t know when. This morning, when I woke, the door to the cage was still open. Zeke hadn’t locked it the way he normally did. When I finally shook off the desire to curl back up with Brax and sleep for a few more hours, I’d crawled out from under the bed to find Zeke gone. The sheets were in disarray, as though he’d slept there, but he wasn’t.
I found him in the gym a little while later, finishing up his workout. We’d been spending that first hour of the morning together in complete silence except for the few times I gave him tips for additional exercises that might interest him. He’d taken my suggestions with grace, smiling and thanking me after he worked to get the form down. We had found a way to coexist in peace during those times. I wasn’t the masochist and he wasn’t the Sadist. We were men who enjoyed one another’s company.
He had seemed almost human to me, a man beneath the monster.
Honestly, I’d enjoyed those moments as much as all the others. I liked seeing that side of Zeke. While I got off on his torture techniques and I actually enjoyed the fact that he wanted to keep us caged like animals from time to time, I did like seeing what was hidden beneath that hard outer layer. In fact, I had been looking forward to getting to know him better. Most people would see the sex and the scenes as a perversion, but for us, it was a way of life. We opened up during those moments. No shields, no barriers. And it was bringing us closer together.
Or so I’d thought.
Zeke suddenly opened his truck door and stepped out. He looked a little forlorn, as though he’d had a shit day. I glanced over to see Brax was already in position, naked and kneeling by the door, his head down.
I had no idea what to do. Was I supposed to give them a moment? Should I go upstairs? Downstairs? Sit on the couch? I had no idea what Brax needed from me right now, so I stood there like a dumb ass, unable to move, oddly fascinated to see how this would play out.
One more look out the window and I noticed Zeke waiting for Tank to do his business. When that was out of the way, they both headed for the house and I pivoted back to Brax.
The knob turned, the door opened. Tank trotted in, giving Brax a quick sniff before making a beeline for me. I squatted down to pet him as Zeke stepped into the house.
“What the fuck?” Zeke grumbled.
His words were clipped, an edge of anger I wasn’t familiar with. The Sadist was generally good-natured, which I figured was an oxymoron. He could dole out pain in a way that scared the shit out of me, but I sensed there was no anger fueling him. I’d been with a few Doms who had used that anger to drive their need to punish. But it was different with Zeke. He was creative with his scenes. He wasn’t simply beating on us because he could. He got off on it, and he enjoyed it as much as we did. The man didn’t hurt us because he was battling some internal rage.
I figured that was what made him the best of the best. You could trust Zeke with your safety. Give yourself over to him without worrying about the consequences. He took special care to heighten the senses, ratcheting up the fear and the need. Yet I never felt as though he would go too far. Believe it or not, that was a skill some Doms didn’t acquire. To be a Sadist, they had to be in the right headspace because it wasn’t about abuse. It was about the power exchange, the give and take from a Sadist to a masochist.
