Pivoting back around, I took in my two fuck toys. I paced in front of them while my eyes raked over them, checking their wrists, their ankles, their balls. So far, so good.
Now it was time to show them what real pain was.
*
Brax
(The cowboy)
WHEN ZEKE TURNED AROUND TO face us after sending the submissive off to have a ginger root shoved up his ass, I could see the intent in his black gaze. His muscles flexed, as though they were readying themselves for battle. He was getting down to business.
Red!
Red, red, red!
That was the only thing blazing through my brain but no matter how badly I wanted to yell out my safe word, I couldn’t. Not because I wasn’t physically capable. I was. I could speak if I needed to.
No. It wasn’t inability that held me back, it was a deep, dark hunger that willed me forward. I’d never experienced anything quite like this before. The damn plug in my ass, the fucking harness thing on my balls, those brutal weights causing the steel spikes to stab into my scrotum, heat blooming on my skin, a fuzziness forming in my brain. I was high on endorphins. It was too much, but for some reason I wanted more.
And the moment Zeke had stripped his shirt off, I’d thought I would come from the sight alone. I’d seen him play plenty of times, but the giant Sadist wasn’t one to remove his clothing in the club. I’d never even seen him without a shirt. And fucking shit, I wasn’t sure I was going to survive it now.
I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. It felt as though Zeke was doing it for us. Possibly without knowing it, he was giving back to us as a reward for what we were giving him.
He was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen. At six three, I wasn’t a small man. I always felt relatively small compared to Case because I didn’t have the muscle mass that he did. But up against Zeke, I was minuscule in comparison. It caused an odd sense of vulnerability to wash over me.
I breathed in deep, exhaled slowly, allowing the pain to morph into intense pleasure. I was doing relatively decent until Zeke pulled a braided whip from his belt. How I hadn’t noticed it earlier, I wasn’t sure. But it was long, with multiple tails and knotted ends. Like a flogger on steroids. It was the same one he’d used on Case when he’d overtaken the scene I had observed a week ago.
Zeke turned away from us, then pointed to a submissive standing near him. “You. Unchain his feet,” he instructed the submissive as he pointed to me. “And I want him”—he motioned to Case—“released completely. For now.”
Oh, fuck. Unchaining my feet meant I would be shifting, which meant the damn torture apparatus on my balls would move and it was possible I would pass out.
The submissive rushed to do as instructed while Zeke stood back and watched. I noticed his eyes continued to look at our hands, our arms. He was assessing the scene, ensuring we weren’t enduring any unintentional pain or damage. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen a Dom quite as attentive to that sort of thing as Zeke. Or maybe I just hadn’t paid that much attention.
“Move your feet together,” he commanded when my ankles were free.
My teeth were going to be chalk by the time this was done. I eased my legs together, grunting as the weight dragged those damn spikes into my balls. It felt as though they’d punctured the skin, but I knew they hadn’t. That wasn’t the intent of them. The pain was the goal, the constant pin-prick like stabs to my most sensitive area, sure. Not blood.
Standing tall allowed some of the strain on my shoulders to ease. I flexed my hands, then gripped the chains, trying to relieve the tension. Zeke didn’t miss the movement, his eyes shooting up to my hands, then down to my face. He must’ve approved of what he saw, because he turned to Case.
“Move back against the wall. I expect you to watch.”
“Yes, Zeke.” There was a grunt to follow Case’s words as he stepped back out of the way. I could imagine it felt as though he was dragging his balls on the ground.
When the submissive scurried off and Case was out of the strike zone, Zeke gripped the tails of his whip, dragging them through his big fist as he moved closer. His eyes were fixed on me and only me. The intensity I saw there had my breath halting in my lungs.
“Five,” he told me. “That’s what I expect you to take.”
Five licks with that thing? Fuck. That seemed like a million at this point.
When Zeke had played with Case, he’d dished out twelve before Case came. He was going easy on me.
