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 garnered 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.
Had he somehow known that would be Case’s preference?
“Strip,” Zeke commanded.
I admired Case’s physique as he stripped off the jeans he was wearing before walking closer to the spanking bench. The dragon on his back seemed to come to life when he moved, arching and shifting. It was a masterpiece, really, something I had admired since the first time I saw it.
My focus moved to the spanking bench. It wasn’t quite as intricate as the one Zeke had in his basement, but it was sturdy enough to hold Case’s large body. He stood there, still as a statue while he waited for Zeke to instruct him what to do next.
Zeke joined him, then motioned him into position, assisting as needed. Rather than have him kneel on the padded leather bars, Zeke had it turned the opposite direction, allowing Case to drape himself over the bench while his feet remained on the floor. His head was angled downward, but only slightly. Enough to ensure his ass was in the air.
“Do you prefer to be restrained?” Zeke questioned.
