Cherise Sinclair - Edge of the Enforcer

“Nothing new, Sir.”

“Strip.” He pointed to a spot beneath two dangling chains. “Both of you, kneel there.”

Anticipation was rising inside him. His plan was simple: dominate the two of them, inflict pain on the boy, tease his own little subbie, hand the boy over, play with his woman.

His cock went rigid as he tugged Lindsey to her feet and ran his fingers through her silken dark hair. After kissing her velvety lips, he molded her against him for a sheer erotic rush.

As he fastened wrist cuffs on her, he stroked her arms. Sturdy wrists—for a woman; compared to his thick bones, hers seemed incredibly fragile. The white scars on each arm pissed him the hell off. Ricks was a dead man.

No . He pushed away the thought. Tonight was for now. Nothing else. He crouched and buckled the ankle cuffs on her legs before nuzzling her soft stomach. She wore a light floral fragrance that didn’t overpower the scent of her delicate musky arousal.

“Where do you want me to kneel?” The eagerness in Lindsey’s eyes had increased with the addition of ankle cuffs. Recently, he’d discovered having her legs restrained flipped a nice little switch in her.

He smiled slowly. “Get in the cage.”

“What?” The oval birdcage was constructed of black rebar rather than wire and hung freely from a ceiling chain. “In there?”

“Oh yeah. In you go.” He braced the birdcage as she reluctantly climbed inside the hip-high door. After she had knelt on the doughnut-holed leather pad, facing him, he said, “Arms up.”

He hooked her cuffs together and clipped them to the cage top. “Spread your knees, pretty bird. And get comfortable. You’re gonna be here for a while.” He closed the door. Didn’t lock it or chain it shut.

Designed for BDSM play, the frame had clamps attached to accommodate the two-foot-long steel stakes waiting in a container. He inserted a stake through a clamp and inward until the dull point touched her upper back, then secured it. He set another stake to press on the other side of her back. Now she couldn’t move backward in the cage.

Two more stakes grazed each ass cheek. Her eyes widened when he slid the next thick stake in to dimple the outside of her right breast. He did the same on the left. “I recommend you don’t do much wiggling, right?”

She shook her head.

“You’ve never seen a birdcage before?” He angled two more stakes to the insides of her thighs, ensuring her knees stayed apart.

“N-no.”

He stepped back and studied her. Lips still swollen from earlier, cheeks slightly flushed, arms over her head so her breasts were lifted, showing the tight, jutting peaks. The dim light of the dungeon was enough to see how wet her thong already was.

Made him want to yank her out and take her immediately.

Soon. And by then he’d have her squirming mindlessly. Yeah.

“You start getting muscle cramps or get scared, you sing out, pet.” To extract her from the cage, he’d have to flip the quick-releases of the four stakes in front and remove them. More stakes were in the container, but this was plenty until he knew how she’d react. Some submissives loved this kind of immobilization. Some got terrified.

That wouldn’t be good. Problem was that with impact play, his focus needed to be completely on the bottom, so he might not catch it right away if Lindsey started to panic.

He walked over to Logan, who stood in the center of the room. “You monitoring now?”

Logan nodded.

“I’m going to flog Dixon with Lindsey in the cage. It’s her first time there and being restrained with stakes. Could use some eyes on her while I’m occupied.”

“You’re splitting your attention?” Logan studied the two submissives and the area. The birdcage was within a few feet of the dangling chains. “I’ll have Simon monitor the rest of the room so I can stick close.”

“Appreciate it.”

Problem solved.

He glanced at Lindsey, pleased to see the tenseness of her body. For the time she’d be watching, the stakes would serve as a constant reminder she was still under his control. Would give her small amounts of pain—which he’d enjoy—especially once he upped the stimulus for her to move.

He joined Dixon. “Now you, boy.” Fisting the bottom’s pretty blond hair, deVries yanked him to his feet. The boy gave a tantalizing yelp. “Arms up.”

After lowering the chains secured to the rafter beams, deVries used panic snaps to secure Dixon’s wrist cuffs to the chains. He considered adding a spreader-bar for his legs, but…nah, he was in the mood to watch some dancing feet. This setup looked good.

He stepped back and assessed Dixon. Too cocky.

Fuck that shit. DeVries blindfolded the boy’s eyes.

Dixon’s muscles tensed, but he took a calming breath and relaxed.

Good control, deVries thought…and waited.

As nothing happened and the seconds ticked by, Dixon started to tense up again.

Much better. How far could he wind the submissive up? DeVries leaned forward and growled in his ear, “Got all of your body to use for my target, boy. Best you hope I don’t flog those fat balls of yours to ribbons.”

Swallowing, Dixon edged his legs together, hiding his vulnerable parts; yet, as if dissociated from fear, his dick strained upward.

Very nice. This boy wasn’t the type of masochist who found any and all pain enjoyable. No, Dixon felt actual pain at first and had to endure the discomfort to reach his goal of subspace. Was a hell of a lot of fun to push this kind of masochist up the brutally painful slope to pleasure. “Your safeword still the same, boy?”

“Frank-N-Furter.”

“Might be amusing to hear you squeal that.” DeVries ran his hands down the leanly muscled arms, over narrow shoulders, down his back. Sensitizing his skin. “Party safeword is red. Use one or the other if you need it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

DeVries stepped over to the birdcage. Lindsey hadn’t moved. None of the stakes were digging into her skin too far. He studied her face. Her head was right here with him, nothing else on her mind. Perfect. Fitting his arm through the bars, he laid his palm along Lindsey’s cheek. “All right?”

Her eyes were the melting chocolate color of the fudge she’d made. Fucking sweet. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He jerked his chin at Logan, who was leaning against a stone pillar, gaze on them. “I get that you’re not one to want to interrupt a scene, so Logan is there if you need him. He’ll stay till I’m with you.”

The relaxation of the muscles in her neck and around her mouth told him she’d worried. “Thank you, Zander.”

Good. On second thought, damned if he wanted her too relaxed. He ran his knuckles over her firm little breasts and rolled her nipples between his fingers, increasing the pressure until she started making pleasing squeaks and squirming uncontrollably. Her movements pushed her into the stakes, reminding her of their presence. Reminding her she was trapped for his pleasure.

He could actually see her grow wetter. Fuck, he loved the way she responded.

Nonetheless, her turn was over. “Hang tight, babe. Next time I’ll pick on that pretty pussy of yours.”

Her instinctive movement drove her knees into the stakes, and the luscious helpless sound she made kicked up his own hunger. Oh yeah. He wanted more of that.

As he returned to Dixon, the fire of need simmered under his skin. “I got an itch to hear you yell, boy,” he said. “First I’ll give you a bit of a warm-up so I can draw this out until you’re sweating.” He started in.

The sound of the flogger striking skin—no matter how lightly—increased his pulse and steadied his focus. Pinken that patch of skin. Avoid there. Make the sides match. Study the results.