Page 2 of Their Ruthless Sadist

The baby Dom swung the tails again and again, over the man’s ass, the backs of his thighs. There was no power in his swing, no effort to inflict pain whatsoever. It was the equivalent of a fucking massage.

“Tell me when you’ve had enough,” the baby Dom told the submissive.

Who the hell was this asshole, and where did he think he was? This submissive wasn’t here to play Twenty Questions. Dominants didn’t ask permission; they set up the structure beforehand, had a plan, and an end goal. A good Dominant didn’t ask them what they wanted. A good Dominant merely gave it to them because that was what they needed.

After a few more swings, the baby Dom turned, and I noticed he was covered in sweat. He’d been at this a while from the looks of it. His eyes met mine, and I instantly recognized the respect there. I got it everywhere I went. Not because of my size, either. I’d earned it. And I’d come to expect it.

“Master Zeke,” he said, grabbing a bottle of water while he clearly took a break.

Sadist Rule Three: A submissive should not wear out the Dom.

Yeah. Fine. I just made that one up.

I nodded to the sweaty baby Dom, but my eyes shifted back to the submissive. I could envision myself standing behind him with my whip, applying the stinging burn from the knotted ends that would have him jerking and twitching, his cock so hard he could hardly breathe from the need to come.

That thirty-five-tail deerskin flogger the baby Dom wielded was the equivalent of a feather as far as this particular masochist was concerned. An attentive Dominant would’ve known that.

I glanced back at the baby Dom, who was clearly out of sorts, unsure what to do to make this submissive beg.

“Hit him harder,” I said, the deep rumble of my voice causing several heads to turn my way.

“What?” The baby Dom appeared confused. “I’ve been at it for thirty minutes. He’s not in the right mindset.”

Mindset, my ass. That was a Dom’s excuse as to how he’d fucked up a scene.

“You’re not hittin’ him hard enough.” I turned my attention back to the restrained man. “He’s not a goddamn toddler. Hit him harder.”

The baby Dom clearly didn’t like that I was correcting him. Not that I gave a fuck. It was a Dominant’s responsibility to see to the needs of his submissive. This fucker was failing in every respect.

“Think you can do better?” the baby Dom taunted.

I jerked my gaze over and cocked an eyebrow. This time, his tone lacked any respect whatsoever. Normally, I would shrug it off, but there was something about this situation that didn’t sit right with me.

“I don’t think I can. I know.” The crowd parted as I moved forward. When the baby Dom held out his little toy, I chuckled. “Your five-and-dime toy’s useless.”

The baby Dom huffed, then turned to walk away.

“Uh-uh,” I snarled. “You stay and watch.” I leaned in closer to him, keeping my voice low so no one else could hear. “And don’t you ever disrespect me again. Understood?”

The baby Dom’s eyes widened, but he managed a jerky nod.

“Good.” I turned my back to him and focused my attention on the masochist.

Wanting to get a feel for the submissive’s state of mind, I walked over and pressed myself against his back, leaning down and putting my mouth close to his ear.

“Tell me what you need, pretty boy.”

The pretty boy’s head shifted only slightly. “Pain, Zeke. I need pain.”

“Do you want me to deliver it? And remember, I don’t provide aftercare. I’ll ensure you fly, but I won’t bring you down after.”

“Yes,” he said on a breathless moan. “Yes, Zeke. I want you to deliver it.”

“Tell me your safe word.”

“Red, Zeke.”

“I trust you to use it should you need it.”