Page 17 of Their Ruthless Sadist

Nor did I entertain those I knew I wouldn’t have anything in common with. I didn’t go to the club with the intention of slapping around some eager-eyed submissive who wanted to believe I would get off by smacking their ass. What I wanted surpassed that shit by a country mile.

I was primal in nature, a beast to the core. I had a deep desire to destroy, but not out of anger. My deviously kinky brain should come with a warning label, something to let trespassers know I would gladly shatter them and walk away, leaving them for someone else to put back together.

I was a loner. I didn’t need the company of others to feel complete. I wasn’t looking for companionship or love. I didn’t want a relationship; I wanted to fuck. I wanted to expel the urge, then allow it to build again. I wasn’t interested in having some little fuck toy wake up in my arms, believing there would be rainbows and unicorns coming out of my ass when I walked away.

I preferred the mind fuck. I craved it. Watching a submissive mentally writhe while desire filled them until they couldn’t breathe. No one but me truly knew what I was capable of. And I liked it that way.

But for whatever reason, I felt a connection with the pretty boy and the cowboy. Nothing deep, mind you. I didn’t experience that giddy, lovestruck feeling. I might’ve been born with that gene, but it had long since disappeared, consumed by the overwhelming urge to dominate and destroy.

However, when it came to the pretty boy and the cowboy, there was a physical attraction that was undeniable. They definitely made my dick hard. And the thought of beating on one or both of them tripped my trigger. I’d seen firsthand what the pretty boy desired. Hell, I’d delivered it. And I’d thought about it every day since.

I peered over at Tank. “How long should I make them wait, boy? Think I should put them out of their misery? Long drive from Texas to here.”

Of course, Tank didn’t acknowledge me. He didn’t care what I did as long as he could tag along.

Grabbing my phone, I decided it was time to get this underway. After all, I still needed to figure out if this really was something I was willing to pursue.

Or it was merely a passing fancy.

Brax (the cowboy)

I didn’t mind waiting. Not usually.

At the doctor’s office, a good restaurant, at an amusement park. As a society, we’d come to expect it. Patience was a virtue.

However, waiting twenty minutes for Zeke to be available hadn’t been on my agenda for the day. I’d hoped to stop in, grab the keys, head up to the apartment, and sleep for a while. At the very least, get a shower and wash off some of the travel grime.

Then again, I doubted Zeke gave a shit about my agenda or whether or not I shuddered anytime I thought about those sheets I’d slept on last night. The shower I’d taken in the hotel room had done nothing to dispel that itchy feeling. Had we planned ahead, Case and I could’ve slept in a four-star hotel. Instead, we’d stopped at the first place we came to when it became damn near impossible to keep my eyes open. Lesson learned.

And now I should’ve been minutes away from a nap. Instead, I was sitting on the leather sofa in the fancy reception area, waiting for Zeke to stop fucking with us. Any other day, perhaps I would’ve been impressed by the power play. Today was not that day.

The phone on Dale’s desk rang, and based on the way he answered, the call had come from inside the office. He hung up and glanced over. “Zeke will see you now. His office is downstairs.” He motioned toward the hallway.

“Thanks,” I offered as I pushed to my feet, my back cramping. I needed to be horizontal for a while.

“Good luck,” Dale said with a smirk as we passed by.

I allowed Case to lead the way, following him down the wide hallway that opened up to the offices belonging to Landon, Langston, and Luci.

While I desperately wanted to play it cool, I wasn’t sure that was possible as Case and I headed down the stairs leading to Zeke’s office. My exhaustion disappeared, as did the pain in my back. There was a strange buzzing in my head, as though I was walking the plank, and any second now, the floor would be ripped out from under me, leaving me at Zeke’s mercy.

Strange, huh? Yeah. My brain tended to do shit like that when I was nervous. Conjuring up nonsense.

I glanced around, noticing all the closed doors. The place was a ghost town today. The only warm body we’d encountered had been Dale back in the reception area, and from what I could tell from all the dark rooms, no one else was here.

While my imagination worked overtime to get away from me, I tried to remind myself that we were in an office building. Not a club. I seriously doubted I had anything to worry about with Zeke. Not like he was going to command us to strip naked in his office. Right?

Granted, that hadn’t stopped him on Trent’s personal jet during our trip from Dallas to Chicago. In fact, Trent had been in the next cabin. Not to mention, Troy, Clarissa, the pilot, and the flight attendant. They’d been on either side of the room where I ended up stripping buck-ass naked and kneeling for the big Sadist.

But this was an office building. A professional place. Nothing kinky should be going on here. Then again, I did recall the time I walked through, serenaded by the cacophony of Luci’s squeals while she was getting her ass paddled by one of her Doms. That was just last week sometime. They certainly hadn’t cared that anyone had overheard them.

Maybe I should be worried.

Once we made it down the stairs, I took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other. I’d noticed how Case was breathing a little roughly for someone in such good shape. The guy was built like a Mack truck, but he had the cardiovascular system of a damn runner. Which meant he was getting worked up from the mere prospect of seeing Zeke again.

For some reason, I was no longer worried what Zeke would do; I was worried he would do nothing at all.

I was depraved, no doubt about it.