Page 177 of Their Famous Dominant (Office Intrigue Duet 4)
Those big eyes peered up at me full of hopeful anticipation. She wanted the big, bad Sadist to toss her around a little, then pull her close and shower her with praise and attention.
I was not that man.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Not in this lifetime.” I shooed her away with a flick of my hand, dashing that hope in an instant. She wasn’t my type.
Not only did I want a man, I needed a man. One with power and stamina, hide as tough as leather, an ass made to be plowed, a throat strong enough to take the brutal pounding of my cock.
A scene caught my eye and I sauntered over, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared over the heads of the other bystanders. I couldn’t see the submissive’s face because he was facing away from me, his hands cuffed above his head, legs spread, ankles chained to hooks in the floor. Long limbs, thick muscle, juicy ass.
It was the tattoo blazed across his back that caught my attention. A dragon rose up along his spine, wide body curling over his shoulder blade, the head disappearing on his other side, lying over his chest.
I knew this because it was a tattoo I’d seen before.
Recently, in fact.
I watched as the baby Dom laid the flogger tails across the submissive’s broad shoulders, hitting hard enough to thud but not nearly hard enough to leave a mark. The submissive’s body was rigid, but not from shock or pain.
“What’s your color, sub?” the baby Dom questioned.
Sadist Rule One: Colors are for kindergartners.
“Green, Sir,” the submissive said with a bored monotone that would’ve been obvious to an infant.
“You want more?” the baby Dom asked.
Sadist Rule Two: Don’t ask what they want.
“Yes, Sir,” he replied, no inflection in his tone.
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?”
