Edge of the Enforcer (32 page)

Dixon’s muscles were relaxed, breathing steady.

Gradually, deVries found a good rhythm. He snorted, realizing Dixon’s ass was swaying to Combichrist’s “Get Your Body Beat
.
”

After a while, he moved to a heavier flogger. Added some caning for variety.

“Brace yourself, boy,” he said. And he finished—for the moment—with three much harder throws with no break between.

The sheer force rocked Dixon forward each time. Hands fisted, neck bowed, Dixon breathed through the pain. His forehead and shoulders were damp with sweat, but the change in his expression, the glow, said he was moving into subspace.
Nice. Very nice.

“Don’t move now, boy. You stay still.”

Dixon received the instructions with a submissive shiver.

While the boy finished processing the pain, deVries went over to the birdcage. “Pretty little canary. Gonna listen to you sing next.”

Lindsey’s gaze was fixed on him like a bird watching a cat approach. While he’d flogged Dixon, her breathing had increased, her cheeks had flushed. She was getting nice and toasty with excitement.

“How are you doing, babe? Can you last longer?”

Her chin came up. “I’m fine, Sir.”

Well, hell, a submissive shouldn’t say that to a sadist. Might as well shout
nah-nah, ni-nah-nah,
right? “Good to know.”

He didn’t intend to draw out Dixon’s scene—he had other plans for the boy in mind—so he might as well fuck Lindsey’s head up a bit now. He pinched her pretty nipples back to a dark red and stopped before she got too squirmy. “You’re going to need to remember to stay still.”

“Sure. Sir.”

“Good for you.” He smiled into her eyes and saw worry appear. She knew him well.

His favorite wand was in his toy bag. He added the nubby attachment. Plugged into the wall, the device fit through the space under the birdcage door. He clamped the wand in position so it barely…barely vibrated the thong covering Lindsey’s pussy.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t get bored, baby.”

Her hands fisted as the vibrations registered. She was already aroused, and it took only a few seconds before she wanted more. Her hips tried to move forward…and were stopped by the stakes. When she persisted despite the undoubted discomfort, he tsk-tsked and withdrew the vibrator far enough so she couldn’t quite touch it. So she wouldn’t be able to get off.

Her glare made him laugh.

As he returned to Dixon, he could hear the hum of the wand and her low moan.
Nice.

He grabbed Dixon’s hair and yanked his head back. “You sleeping there?”

The boy gasped. “No, Sir!”

“Good. Maybe you need some noise to keep you lively.” He’d brought one of his single-tails—a medium-length one. Stepping back, he picked it up and gave it a quick snap.

As the crack echoed in the room, Dixon straightened so quickly his spine almost shattered.

“Got a problem with whips, boy?” Nothing had been on his limits list at Dark Haven.

“No, Sir.” When deVries didn’t respond, Dixon swallowed and added, “They make me…nervous.”

“Shows you’re not stupid.” The harsh sting would center the bottom’s attention after the small break and steer him into the mind space where he needed to be. Afterward a hard flogging should take him up and over.

He flicked the tail over the young man’s ass, his shoulders, down to his ass, and grinned when the bottom’s feet started moving, his ass twisting, trying to avoid the startling burn.

“Good luck with that.” He settled into an even rhythm, knowing it was counterbalanced by the erratic nature of the stinging impacts.

As the whipping continued, Dixon’s shoulders relaxed, his hands opened. Heading into subspace.

DeVries checked Lindsey. Her face was flushed. The wand had done the job, and her muscles were taut with the need to get off. She was sweating, her face showing she’d reached her limit of frustration.

He met Logan’s eyes, looked at Lindsey, and made a cutting motion.
Pull the plug.

Logan nodded.

DeVries walked forward, grasped Dixon’s chin, and lifted. “You holding up, boy?”

The simple touch and question made Dixon’s mouth curve up sluggishly. Oh yeah, he was nicely into la-la land. “Sir,” he breathed. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy.” As deVries returned to his work, he heard the hum of the wand die and the whine of Lindsey’s response.

Crack. Crack. Crack.
Dixon’s back displayed a gratifying pattern of thin red lines. No blood.

Time for the flogger. A medium weight, deVries decided, with enough sting to remind the boy of the whip, enough weight to be thuddy, not so heavy as to break open the stripes.

Smiling, he moved into a nice figure-eight pattern, melding in the music, his heartbeat, Dixon’s swaying with the
slap, slap, slap
of the flogger. He was sweating, enjoying the weight, the sounds of the blows, the sucking of air as the bottom processed each blow. Nothing felt like swinging a flogger.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Stanfeld. Right on time as agreed.

DeVries flicked the strands, pulling back enough that only the tips struck Dixon, giving him a new sensation.

Stanfeld seemed like a decent guy. Honorable. Honest. And Simon considered him a damn good Dom. Xavier and Simon had been concerned about the crappy Doms Dixon kept choosing. Tonight, deVries figured on handing the boy over to someone who was all Dom.

DeVries paused and jerked his chin up at Stanfeld.

Arms crossed, the agent had taken a position near the wall to watch. Stanfeld smiled slightly…and nodded.

IN THE BIRDCAGE, Lindsey couldn’t take her gaze off Zander.
“Fuck, I love you too,”
he’d said. Over the past few hours, those words had run through her mind like an ever-spinning carousel of joy. After hearing of the burglary of her duplex and realizing Ricks and Parnell had found her, she’d hit rock bottom. Yet, this evening, she was ready to soar upward and dance like a happy star in the night sky.

“Fuck, I love you too.”
Zander never said things he didn’t mean. His devastating bluntness did have a benefit.
He loves me.

And I really, really love him.

Maybe a little less right now, though.
Damn Enforcer.
After the vibrator, her clit was so engorged and throbbed so intensely she wanted to scream. Trying to shift her weight, she only succeeded in making the birdcage rock. His stakes—like giant needles on steroids—poked her bottom and her back and her poor breasts.

The way Zander had reduced Dixon to a glassy-eyed, subspaced body seriously turned her on. Every time Dix hissed with pain, Zander’s focus grew more intent, as if he was drinking in the sounds her friend made. If Dixon tried to shift his weight to avoid a blow, the next hit of the flogger would thwart him.

She couldn’t help seeing poor Dixon had an impossibly hard erection. He was suffering as badly as she was.

Again Zander walked around in front of Dixon to study him. “Yep, you’re done.” He flicked the flogger at the young man’s genitals.

The yelp Dixon made was terrifying.

God, how could he pick on a person’s privates—especially when all swollen up? Lindsey squirmed in sympathy. “Friggin’ sadist.”

Obviously hearing her, Logan gave an amused snort.

Zander gripped Dixon’s jaw and removed his blindfold. “Look at me, pup.”

Dixon’s eyes opened and focused. “Yessir.”

“You’re about at your limit—but I could play with the flogger and whip for another hour.” Zander’s lips curved when Dixon strained to inch back. “We can continue…or I can hand you off to a Dominant who’ll take the scene in a different direction. Simon vouches for him, by the way.” He looked to the right.

Lindsey followed his gaze. Whoa, the Homeland Security guy was in the dungeon. He wore black jeans and a black skintight body shirt that showed off a leanly muscular body. He was looking at Dixon in appreciation.

But she hadn’t had a chance to talk with him—not enough to decide if she trusted him with her friend. She frowned. Still, if Simon said Stan was okay…maybe it was all right.

Dixon blinked, stared at Stan, and blinked again. “I—I—I.”

Sneaky sadist, Lindsey thought. Dixon sure didn’t want that whip again. Since
Zander
had suggested the change in Doms, Dixon wouldn’t look as if he were chasing after man-candy. She glanced at the agent. The Dom was definitely a gay boy’s dream.

“Do you want Stanfeld to take over?” Zander asked.

Dixon’s expression held both desire and worry.

I so understand.
Lindsey’d been in that position. The first scene or two with someone unknown was awfully scary.

“Boy,” Zander said in his grating voice. “Your play stays in here, nowhere else. Tex and I won’t leave before you do. And Logan will keep an eye on you as well.” He raised his eyebrows at the two Doms.

“Agreed,” Stan said.

Logan nodded.

“Okay.” Dixon went starry-eyed. Lindsey could understand why, since Stan was not only gay but also very, very dominant.

“All yours,” Zander said to the agent and moved his bag to the other side of the birdcage.

Stan stalked across the room and stopped in front of—

Zander’s body blocked her view. After opening the cage door, he curved his hand around her jaw. “You going to watch them or me?” Zander asked.

Oops.
“Um, you, Sir.” She could barely hear them talking—going over limits, she thought.

“Yeah, what I figured.” He considered the blindfold he held and tossed it onto the bag. His gaze was level and serious. He was so close she could smell him—light musk and sweat, soap and leather. “They aren’t your concern now. Keep your eyes on me, babe, or I’ll be unhappy.”

Oh. At the thought of letting him down, she wanted to curl up like a repentant puppy. “I won’t disappoint you. I won’t.”
Never. Ever.

The smile softened his hard features. “No, you won’t.”

His gaze on her face, he teased her breasts, pinching her nipples to attention and more, until she was squirming at the arousing pain.

As the stakes poked her, the added bites made her thoughts swirl like falling leaves before the approaching winter. It felt as if she’d been stirred up all night…because she had. “Zander, pleeeze.”
Touch me, take me…hard.

“Feeling needy, are you?” As he gave an ominous laugh, he retracted the stakes, one by one. Nothing sharp was pressing on her skin any longer, and she took a relieved breath.
Free!

He didn’t unfasten her wrists, though, and she tugged at the restraints in a silent reminder.

“’Bout time to torture those little tits of yours. See how sensitive they can get.”

Torture?
Wait.
Her jaw dropped. Her wrist cuffs were still clipped to the top of the cage—and prevented her from plastering herself on the opposite side from him.

When the corners of his mouth tipped up, she knew she’d reacted as he figured. And knowing didn’t help. Her skin felt so sensitive already, her nipples still ached from his pinching, and now…more? She barely kept from whimpering, and yet, seeing the merciless light in his gaze sent a dark hunger through her.

As he bent to his toy bag, she shifted position, rubbing her thighs together to ease the ache.

He noticed—of course—and his chin lifted slightly.
Open
.

God
. It felt as if heat were streaming off her body as she parted her legs, opening to him.

Unhurriedly, he wrapped scratchy rope around her, above and under her breasts, creating a kind of harness. Soon the rope circled the base of each breast, squeezing and constricting the skin. By the time he stopped, her breasts felt too, too full, as if being pressed outward. Her already tender nipples filled with blood until every beat of her heart made them throb.

She was panting, unable to do anything. Her breasts had never felt like this—exquisitely sensitive to the point of pain.

“Nice.” His voice was sandpaper harsh, his gaze piercing as he firmly rolled the peaks.

Too much.
Even as she gasped at the sharp, painful pleasure, uncontrollable need swept over her like a wind off the desert, turning the air scorching hot.

His callused fingers on her moved deliberately, wringing more from her, as his smoke-green eyes watched her intently. Pushing her. She whimpered.

“Yeah,” he rasped, “there’s the sound I like.”

The pull of his fingers sent a current of need arrowing straight to her core. And, as if he could follow the line of tension, he ground the heel of his hand against her mound and slid his finger inside her. Making a low helpless sound, she clenched around him, wiggling. Needing more.

“I’ll give you more.” The masculine threat sent shivers racing over her skin. He unclipped her wrist cuffs. “Ankles, please.”

Awkwardly, she maneuvered until she sat with her butt on the cushion. She could feel the slickness between her thighs as she extended her legs toward him. God, what was he going to do?

“Lie back.”

As she tipped backward, he guided her legs out the birdcage door until half her bottom was outside. She swallowed hard and stared up at the metal frame around her, feeling the cage swing slightly.

She could hear the music change to something softer. Darker. A sharp cry came from a woman down the room. Nearby, Stan was talking to Dixon, low and soft.

Zander’s powerful hands closed on her left leg, lifting up and out. He clipped the ankle cuff high on the outside of the birdcage before doing the right. Her bottom was so far through the door her legs were angled toward her head, elevated enough to tilt her ass upward. Blood rushed to her head—and her bound breasts swelled, erotically painful.

He smiled and tore the sides of her thong, ripping it right off. The coolness of air touched the hot flesh between her thighs. She was extremely wet.

And God, she wanted him inside her. But… A quiver of anxiety ran up her spine. Who knew what the Enforcer would do?

In answer, he leaned in and hooked her wrist cuffs to the frame behind her head. “I don’t want you interfering when I hurt you,” he said in such a level voice that he sounded reasonable until she took in the meaning.