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.
