The Dom
Rated ADULT!!! Drugs, gunplay, bloodplay, object penetration
Kink Bingo: Gunplay/object penetration
Dexter laid his tools out for the other top to examine: the breathing control mask, three knives, two dildos, a vibrator, one flogger, two whips, nipple clamps, a cock and ball stretcher, a brass cock plug, a couple of urethral sounds, his anal scope, and his newest toy, a lexan cane that was light enough for Dexter to swing it without getting tired. Last he pulled out a small S&W Model 10 handgun with a four inch barrel. Dexter could hear the other top suck in a breath at the sight of the weapon.
Dexter smiled as he studied the instruments laid out in neat rows. The noise of the club had faded to a distant thrum as he focused on the growing need for power... for control. And there were so many willing to give him his control. He turned to study the pretty boys who were circling the space Dexter had claimed as his own for the night.
Some were desperate, pressing forward until they stood dangerously near the area. Dexter dismissed them immediately. He wanted more timid prey. So he studied the more distant corners of the club. He knew most of the men here, and a few of the tops gave him a respectful nod as he looked their way.
He'd always hidden in the shadows, learning every lesson Harry had taught him about surviving in the dark corners of society. However, Harry had never known that so many others were hiding in those same shadows. There was Mike... his real name was Michael Lopez and he managed a used car lot. He liked to whip the boys. Ricky was really Rashad Saran, a teacher at the local high school and he was particularly interested whenever blood was drawn. When Dexter would take a knife to some boy's back, Ricky would always shift closer, but he watched more often than he actually played with the boys himself. It gave Dexter a sense of power over the other tops that he knew so much about them. If they had ever tried to track him, they would only find the identity he had created for himself, that of the mysterious recluse Daniel Kreisler.
But right now, Dexter was more interested in the boys gathered around the room. There were more subs than tops in the room most nights, and tonight was no exception. Shawn was near the long bar, watching with furtive glances, and Dexter considered going back to that boy. Even now, he could feel Shawn's hesitation. He knew how hard Dexter played, and he both wanted and feared that attention, even if he did trust Dexter. That still amused Dexter—the depth to which these boys trusted him. Paul was near the center of the bar... Dexter had played hard with him, cutting off his air with a casual twist of a knob on the breathing mask. By the time Dexter had untied him, Paul had been limp and exhausted and as hard as a man could get. The second Dexter had turned his back to indicate the scene was over, Paul had masturbated right in the middle of the club. Like Shawn, Paul watched him with both caution and need.
But Dexter always preferred the unknown prey, the ones who were nothing more than a body for him to work with.
"How do you choose?" John asked with an eagerness that annoyed Dexter. He glanced over at the other top and wondered for a moment why he had agreed to this. But even as he felt that annoyance, he knew why he had agreed to teach John. He could always force the boys to talk to him. He'd get them to confess their fears, to lay out their need to submit, to beg for him to take control because they didn't trust their own control. They would crawl at his feet and offer as much of their souls as Dexter demanded, but none of them ever told Dexter what he really wanted to know: why Dexter felt the need to take their control away. Only another top could explain that, but the lines between tops were so much more difficult for Dexter to navigate. John would be his window into another's need to dominate. He was a top, but he was a top who would owe his allegiance to Dexter. And to get access to that insight, Dexter had to share something of himself.
This frightened him more than any game he played with a boy. This came too close to exposing his own secrets, but Dexter had already mentally prepared his battle lines—what he was willing to share and what he was not. Clearing his face of any trace of emotion, Dexter turned back to the crowd.
"I don't want a boy who is rushing to get into my chains. If he wants in my chains it's because he knows what he wants, and I want a boy who will serve me and not look for me to fill his fantasy," Dexter answered his protégé as he scanned the room. There—a black man, young, his hair cropped close to his head and a wide-eyed look of hope and desperation on his face. Dexter's glance meant nothing to him, which suggested he was new. Dexter liked that too. He headed into the crowd and boys shifted out of his way, some looking disappointed and others angry as Dexter passed them.
He closed in on his prey, and dark, apprehensive eyes finally focused on Dexter. "I don't play nice. I'll make you suffer and beg, and I probably won't let you come so you'll be hard and hurting until I let you down and you can masturbate yourself," Dexter announced matter-of-factly. The boy's mouth came open and he swallowed several times before he managed a brief nod. Dexter turned around to head back to his area, and he almost walked into John who was right there behind him. John stepped to the side and Dexter strode back to his work area. He gave each of the chains attached to the wood frame a test pull and they were solid. Everything was ready.
The boy was right behind him, and Dexter gestured toward the frame. Skittish eyes went from the bench where Dexter had laid out his tools to the frame, to the audience who had started to gather. Dexter could see the tremors in the boy's hands, but Dexter didn't offer any reassurance as he checked over his tools, his hands skimming over them, lovingly touching each one.
John took a deep breath, and Dexter shot him a silencing look before the man could say something that would ruin this moment. The prey had to choose to enter the trap; just like when Dexter hunted for real. That prey had to choose their own death by being killers; this prey had to walk into Dexter's bonds. Slowly the boy moved toward the frame, and Dexter waited as he took his position. Unlike most of the bottoms, this one actually had on normal jeans, so no access to his cock or his asshole.
"Strip off the jeans," Dexter ordered without turning around. He watched out of the corner of one eye as the boy's hands fluttered around his fly as he tried to decide whether to run or submit. Dexter wasn't surprised when he slowly unfastened his jeans. Soon, the boy was naked from the waist down and wore only the leather vest. Only then did Dexter turn and start chaining him into place: his arms stretched wide toward the upper corners of the frame and his legs spread.
The boy started breathing hard, the panic starting to truly set in now, and this was when Dexter had to show his art. Dexter finally turned his attention to the sub, to studying the way his stomach muscles twitched and the way he fought the wrist restraints. Dexter reached out and ran his hand over the bare skin, feeling the heat between them. This was the most intimate thing he could do short of killing, and Dexter gave the boy his full attention. Immediately, the sub settled.
Dexter circled the restraining frame and then ended up in front of the sub again as he studied the boy's reaction. "If I threatened to control your breathing, to strap on a mask that only allowed you to breathe when I wanted you to..." Dexter paused long enough to let the boy really think about that one. "Or if I threatened to pick up a gun and trace the line of your muscle and watch your skin crawl from the cold metal pressing against it... which do you fear more?"
The boy swallowed several times, his gaze darting over to the counter where Dexter had laid out his tools. Dexter reached out and grabbed the boy's slowly hardening cock, pulling it so that the boy yelped and went to his toes as he tried to ease the pressure. "Which do you fear more?" Dexter asked again in the same tone.
"The gun. I fear the gun more," the boy blurted immediately. While Dexter didn't care about the lack of respect in the boy's voice, this society had rules, and the boy had to learn the rules. Dexter pulled the cock a little higher until the boy whined low in his throat. "Sir," the boy finally added. Dexter held the boy's cock for another second before he slowly released it, watching as the boy's wide eyes studied him.
Turning away, Dexter turned to his tools. He picked up the gun. It wasn't loaded, and the fact was that the breathing mask was far more dangerous, but this is what the sub feared. Dexter had long ago given up trying to understand fear. But if the boy feared the gun, then Dexter would use it. He turned around with the gun in his hand, and the boy exploded into motion, struggling against the cuffs. But for all his flailing, he didn't call out to the audience who now watched with unwavering attention.
The moment Dexter let the cool metal touch the boy's chest, he froze, his breath shallow as he stared at the dull metal. Letting it slide down the boy's chest, Dexter used the barrel to nudge the hard cock and lifted the cock's head as he studied it. The boy feared the gun, but the fear excited him. Sometimes Dexter wondered if the boys didn't see the world more clearly. His sister had gone through a phase where she'd taped her favorite quotes to random spots in the house, and Dexter still remembered one: "We must travel in the direction of our fear." Well, he was helping this boy travel the direction of his fear.
Dexter slid the gun down and used it to prod at the boy's balls. With his hands curled into tight fists, the boy started straining against the wrist cuffs, his arm muscles standing out in cords as he fought against the restraints that forced him to stand still as Dexter ran the muzzle of the gun across his peritoneum. "You're afraid," Dexter commented as he reached up and ran a thumb over the boy's nipple.
"Yes. Can't we just use something el—." The boy ended with a startled scream as Dexter reached down and grabbed his ball hard enough to bring tears to the boy's eyes.
"There are rules... a code that is always respected when you're here," Dexter informed him without letting go of the boy's balls. "You must be respectful. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," he squeaked out. Dexter released the balls and studied the boy more closely. Sweat stood out on his chest.
"Why does the gun scare you so much?" he asked curiously as he turned back to his tools. He needed lube for the next part. He pulled a rubber glove out and slid a single finger of the glove over the barrel of the gun, using his own body to block the boy's view.
"It just does, sir."
Dexter didn't answer that, and he could hear the chains rattle behind him as the boy shifted nervously. "You could shoot me," the sub added with reluctance.
"I could kill you with most of my tools. I could take my knife and slit you open from the breastbone down to the genitals and watch your blood and guts spill out." Dexter used scissors to cut the extra latex off the glove before he added lube to it. "I could strap a breathing mask on you and then turn the valve to off. I could take my cane to your lower back where vital organs are most vulnerable. The gun is not the only danger here." Dexter started circling, cradling the gun in his hand so that the sub couldn't see it, but he would know it was there. "Why do you fear the gun?"
The boy was silent for a long moment, until Dexter stopped and studied him. "I really don't know, sir. I just... I just do." For a moment, Dexter considered pushing the man, but he could relate to the idea of acting without understanding one's own actions. Instead of challenging the boy, he walked around to his back and ran a finger down his spine. The boy's body reacted predictably, shivering and then arching into the touch. Dexter didn't give any warning before he then shoved the gun deep into the boy's ass.
Leaning forward, he rested his weight against the boy's back, feeling the heat and the frozen panic in the boy. "You know what I just put inside you, right?"
The boy just swallowed. Dexter could feel even that small movement as he embraced the boy, one arm around the sub's waist and the other holding the gun inside. Slowly, Dexter began to twist the gun, pulling it out just a little bit before thrusting it back in. He slid his hand down until his open hand rested on the boy's abdomen right above his curled hair. "I love the feel of your body when you're stiff with fear. I like the way that smells," Dexter confessed. He started thrusting the gun in deeper and pulling it out a little farther each time. "I'm going to go home tonight and lay in bed thinking of you helpless and afraid, and I'm going to come," he informed the sub. He could feel the body tremble with desire, and he altered the direction of his thrusts just enough to hit the prostate gland.
The boy shuddered, his whole body undergoing a miniature spasm as he threw his head back. "Please, sir," he begged.
"Please what?"
"Please... please finish me off, fuck me, anything, sir," the boy pleaded, and Dexter was disappointed. He preferred it when he had to fight harder to earn the sub's capitulation. But Dexter didn't have much time to think about it because then the boy was coming with a hoarse scream that made the audience sigh with a communal pleasure. Dexter stepped back and pulled the glove off the gun, throwing it at a nearby trash can. The sub spilled his come on the concrete floor, the splatter pattern reminding Dexter of a very small arterial bleed the way the drops lay on the ground. For a second Dexter just stared at it.
"I'm sorry, sir. I really didn't mean to. I didn't know I was going to come so quick, sir."
Dexter glanced over and the sub was hanging limply while still mouthing words of apology. "Get him down," he told John who was standing to the side with eyes dark with lust. It took John a few seconds to realize that Dexter meant him and then he rushed to get the boy down. Dexter was disappointed. He would still masturbate to this session, but he wouldn't come as hard as he did when he remembered his mock attack on Shawn.
Well, there was nothing he could do now, and Dexter definitely didn't want to play with another boy. He'd had his chance to do something beautiful with his canvas, and tonight he'd failed. Hopefully he would do better when he had his drink with John and discussed the source of desire—specifically for those who desired control and dominance. Dexter still might be able to salvage the evening. And who knows, maybe John would turn out to be a respectable chess player.
While John lowered the boy to the cold concrete and helped him catch his breath, Dexter packed his tools, his mind already on the rest of the evening and the game he wanted to play tomorrow.
Amputee Fetish/ Sensation Play
Dexter watched the play area over his drink. The boy strapped down was pleading for mercy, far too vocal for Dexter's tastes, but every top had his own preference. Dexter liked to gag the boys into silence and work with the minute twitches of their muscles and the line of their fearful gazes. However, Gus liked to hear them begging.
A boy hesitated near Dexter, his eyes wide and hopeful, but Dexter ignored him. The willing submission of flesh under his hands was growing to bore Dexter even as his reputation had opened doors in local clubs and given him access to any sub he wanted. Boy after boy yielded to his whip. They laid their lives in his hands, trusting him to not kill them. Dexter enjoyed the irony as much as the acts he committed on their bodies.
Gus' boy fell silent, the sight of a long cane silencing him where the whip hadn't. Dexter leaned forward and watched Gus. The sharp-faced dom searched the boy's body with a dark lust that wasn't just about sexuality. It was power. Right now, Gus had it. Dexter had read so many articles about the sub having the power, and the naiveté in that amused him. The sub had the power in nice, safe clubs where men signed contracts and negotiated every move. In places like this, the subs had only one choice—who they trusted with their submission and their life. Every other choice was the dom's... at least when the subs chose men like Dexter and Gus. And they did.
In the corner, a man grunted as he sucked on the cock of a man who was drinking a beer, and that vignette caught Dexter's attention for a moment... the way the dom appeared to not even notice the boy on his knees. That wasn't how Dexter dealt with a sub on his knees. Dexter was closer to Gus, and that's where he turned his gaze now.
Dexter knew exactly what the sub would say if Gus bent over and whispered in his ear. He'd say that he needed to let go of his control... that he was more honest, more real when he let go. The manager locked the doors to the club, and several of the men started shifting. Anyone not otherwise engaged would have a chance to state his preferences and try and find a partner for the night in the circle that was forming on the other end, but Dexter ignored that half of the club. He watched as Gus pulled the prosthetic arm from the sub and fingered the stub of the arm.
The sub lay still and panted, the stripes from his recent caning having left even tracks across his back. Gus used the boy's silence to finger the slick, scarred skin. Gus fascinated Dexter. Sitting in the darkest corner where Gus and his sharp eyes couldn't see him, Dexter watched as Gus abandoned the cane and used a finger to trace over the old injury.
The sub twisted, his stump of an arm raising up before he sagged back down onto the bench where his other three limbs were restrained. From the expression on his face, Dexter was guessing that Gus hated that missing limb, but he couldn't resist touching it, feeling it. Leaning forward, Dexter strained to see every nuance of that scene. Picking up a knife, Gus traced a line down the back of the boy's arm, and when he raised the knife, Dexter could see the red stain along the edge of the blade. That would sting. Only now Gus reached into his water and retrieved an ice cube.
The sub said something too softly for Dexter to hear from his space in the shadows, and Gus tilted his head, his sharp features softening into something almost sympathetic before the mask slipped back into place. Dexter wondered if that's how he looked to others... or if there was anyone else who watched him closely enough to even say with authority what Dexter looked like. He'd played the parts Harry had given him for so long that Dexter didn't know what he had inside when the mask slipped. The subs came closest to seeing him. They crept around the edges of his world, well aware of the predator among them, and Dexter enjoyed the freedom that gave him.
He had his first job... for the police department of all things, but sometimes Dexter wished that just one person could see him. He was the geek, the squint who knew all things about blood but nothing about anything else. It was an easy role to play, but he felt sometimes as if it would suffocate him.
Gus traced the line his knife had followed, this time with the ice, and Dexter could see the sub's hand clench into a fist. The cold should numb the sting, but in that case, why inflict the sting at all? This was the third time Dexter had watched Gus work, and he still could not understand the other man. Now Gus picked up a feather and started on the mangled stub end of the limb, brushing the delicate edges over the abused skin.
At first, the sub didn't react as he lay still, obviously gathering his resources. However, the moment Gus reached skin with undamaged nerve tissue, the boy jerked and gave a rough yell that would have annoyed Dexter. He did so hate having his work interrupted. Gus grabbed the stump in one hand, slamming it back down to the table before he continued to trace the edges of the damaged skin with his feather as the sub writhed and humped. He dropped the feather and grabbed the cane, bringing it down on the injured limb so fast that the sub didn't have time to stop writhing before he screamed.
"Red! Red!" A couple of other doms unobtrusively waited to see if Gus would respect the rules, but when Gus started freeing the boy from all the straps, the other members of the club continued to wander on their merry way.
Dexter leaned back farther into the shadow and listened as other subs discuss whether they would have safeworded out.
"Sensation play tricks the mind... makes everything worse," an older sub whispered to his friend.
"Wimp," his friend offered without much sympathy. "And Karl's a huge wuss for calling that off," he added even more dismissively. The subs had their own rules, rules set by their peers and not the doms, but Dexter generally didn't worry about them. Other subs would line up to see for Gus next time, hoping to prove they could go farther and this Karl would need to redeem himself. Ignoring that relationship for now, Dexter focused on Gus's reactions. Instead of showing any disappointment or frustration, Gus was watching the sub with a sort of satisfaction. He had intended to force the boy to safeword out.
Dexter had taken his boys deeper into the experience. He'd left his boys bleeding and gasping and crawling, and they still came back for more. Gus's boy had a neat row of cane stripes down his back, a lacework of whip tracks under that, but he didn't look nearly as bad as most of Dexter's toys. And yet he couldn't stand without bracing himself on the bench where he had just been strapped. Right about now, Dexter would be tending his tools, including tending the sub who had become his for the length of their exchange. But Gus continued to watch the boy struggle for balance and grope for his prosthetic arm without reacting at all. He found it and clutched it to his chest, unwilling or unable to put it on over the deep cane score on his injured limb.
Gus exchanged a few words with the boy, and then the sub went wandering off with a dazed expression, and Gus sat on the bench, looking around the room--very much like a cat considers the cage from which he has just stolen a canary. When that gaze wandered his direction, Dexter scooted a little farther back into the shadows.
More than any other, this new dom interested Dexter. Clearly, Gus enjoyed the power, but Dexter was still restless and annoyed. He understood no more than when he had first seen Gus identify his prey. On the table, a business card waited, and Dexter fingered the edges, wondering if he dared expose himself to the eyes of so many tops at once. The subs saw his predatory nature, but they understood the rules and appreciated his ruthless pursuit of perfection. They had some strange sense that he wouldn't ever kill or maim then, and he wouldn't. Doms, however, were still a largely unknown quantity in Dexter's research. Pushing aside that decision for later, Dexter slipped the card away into his wallet, a wallet that carried a full set of identification for Daniel Kreisler, a well-respected member of Miami's leather underground.
Gangbang
Dexter walked into the empty office space, a half dozen other tops greeting him with slaps on the back and nods. Imitating their behavior, Dexter acknowledged them. "Chuck" was here—the dom who had first shown Dexter into this world—and "Ricky" who loved bloodplay. Dexter was surprised to see him; he enjoyed watching more than participating and tonight was supposed to be an old fashioned gang-bang. Dexter hadn't yet decided whether or not to penetrate the sub since he was more into the pain than the sex, but being invited into such a large group of doms was a triumph of his camouflage.
"Daniel!" Chuck called out, grabbing Dexter's shoulder and pulling him along. "Good to see you. I keep telling Logan we need to start grooming the next generation or else these yuppie boys with their fucking limits and negotiations are going to ruin the scene. Sometimes I wish for the old days where condoms didn't exist and if you saw some boy with the right bandana, you could just grab him up and do what you wanted," he sighed as thought mightily put upon.
Nodding knowingly, Dexter silently thought to himself that he would have used a condom even without AIDS to contend with. Studying blood, he knew what corruption bodily fluids could carry. "Logan, this is Daniel. I'm telling you, he's got a strong hand with his boys," Chuck said as he introduced Dexter to a short man with a heavy mustache and wide shoulders.
"Logan," Dexter offered briefly. The man had a challenging glare... it reminded Dexter of Gus, only Logan was looking at him. Dexter turned to study the room rather than compete in whatever game Logan was playing. Obviously that was the right move because the man clapped Dexter on the shoulder.
"Chuck calls you one of the best, and I like to have the best at my parties," he offered.
"So, where's the happy boy?" Chuck asked.
"The next room. He's all trussed up and ready for the main event." Dexter wandered away from them and studied the room. Jerry was here, and Dexter was again struck by the fact that the man looked like an upright turtle. A little part of Dexter wondered how his poor posture would affect the arterial spray. One of the doms was magazine perfect, his strong features making him stand out from the much more mundane collection of men in the room. Like Dexter himself, the stranger was studying the room.
Dexter wandered into a small knot of doms who were comparing the leather work of a new shop on Biscayne Boulevard. Two of the men argued about whether the type of leather affected the bite for the sub. So far, Dexter couldn't identify any traits that made this group so different from the subs other than the prevalence of cigars.
"So, does anyone want to see the ritual sacrifice?" Logan asked, his voice booming over the dozen or so doms gathered in the large room. Throwing open a set of double doors that would have led to an executive office if the building wasn't abandoned, Logan revealed a well-muscled sub tightly bound, gagged, and blindfolded and bent over a custom bench. His legs were spread wide, the ankles chained to the legs of the bench, and the base of a thick plug was visible between cane-marked cheeks. "If you stuff his ass, make sure you make your mark," he said as he held up a black marker before dropped it back on the table next to the boy before patting his bare butt. "And if you're not stuffing his ass, feel free to abuse the servers."
Logan walked to another door and opened it. A half dozen boys came out, all of them tightly bound and masked with leather over huge gags that made their face look long and vaguely horse-shaped. Two round holes allowed them to breathe and small eyeholes allowed them to navigate the room. Each of the boys had a container strapped to his back, and they wandered among the groups where the doms grabbed beers and cigars and chips from the containers. Dexter recognized several of the serving boys from their bodies and one from a gang tattoo half hidden by a nasty scar—these were the eager ones who Dexter always bypassed in his search for the more reluctant subs, and he was no more interested in them now than before.
One brushed past Dexter, wigging his ass so that the plug set deep into him shifted, but Dexter ignored him. This was a sub's paradise—a place where the doms outnumbered them and where the sex wasn't carefully corralled into dark corners where it could be quickly hidden if police or strangers showed up. One of the doms already had a boy on the floor. He'd put the tub of beer on the floor and he had his boot on the boy's neck as he stroked his own cock. Another top was slamming into the main event.
Dexter wandered to the edge of another group and listened to the conversation about insurance, adding a random comment whenever he felt it would be appropriate. Strangely, Logan wasn't indulging in any of the entertainment he'd provided. He stood near the edge of the action smoking his cigar and slowly rubbing his crotch through his pants. The magazine-cover dom was wandering from one point to another without actually interacting. Most of the other doms had their eyes on the boys, on all that naked flesh available for pinching and hitting. None of the boys had any sort of covering over their cocks, and all of them had full, heavy cocks that begged for attention and gagged mouths that couldn't object to whatever the doms wanted.
"What do you think?" Chuck asked as he stroked his cock, his eyes watching the main event as he waited for the current dom to finish. Honestly, Dexter could not figure out the attraction of having everyone penetrate the same boy. However, subs often admitted to this fantasy when Dexter forced them to talk. They wanted the promiscuity of multiple partners without the guilt of having to admit to wanting them, and they dreamed of being tied down as man after man took them. But as much as the subs dreamed of such a scenario, it wasn't normally what Dexter thought of as a dom's fantasy. However, these doms seemed to be taking their cues from Logan.
"It's remarkable," Dexter answered. The main event sub arched his back and then thumped his head against the bench. It was all the freedom he had.
"I'm not normally into a gangbang, but the clubs are getting too tame. The owner of the Dustbowl actually kicked some top out for going too fucking far. What the hell is the point of having a sub if you don't get to do what you want with the little shits?" Chuck snorted unhappily. Dexter suddenly wished he could go through Chuck's house and see whether the man respected any of his possessions. He believed in using his subs, but he looked after them as carefully as he looked after his sadistic tools or his murder bag.
"The subs who can't let go of control are never going to be happy," Dexter hedged. He had no idea what had happened at the Dustbowl, but he believed in limits. When he was overwhelmed with the need to dominate, to hunt and to kill, Dexter held onto the rules that defined his life. The rules kept the subs safe and kept him safe. They did little to help the victims of his more deadly hunts, but those people had already chosen their fate.
"Who is he?" Dexter asked as he watched the magazine-cover dom walk up to Logan.
"Some French guy. Ricky brought him," Chuck said dismissively. "My turn. I’m going to leave that boy so loose he's not ever going to be able to tighten up again."
Chuck turned to the gangbanged sub, and took his place between the chained legs the moment the other dom left. Dexter wandered closer and studied the bound form. Logan was too far away to appreciate the subtle shift of muscle under the skin or see the sweat gathering along the sub's backbone. Dexter studied the form, frowning slightly as he watched the show. The sub was bound tightly and his face obscured by the locked gag and blindfold. Standing near the boy's shoulder, Dexter let his gloved hand rest against a tense shoulder. The sub went utterly still. No tremors... no ripple of muscle under the skin.
Cocking his head, Dexter glanced over at Logan. The other dom watched Dexter, his eyes dark and a smirk on his face. Chuck finished with a grunt and grabbed the marker, adding his own tick mark to the sub's ass and dropping his used condom to the floor.
"You next?" one of the others asked Dexter. He shook his head, and the other man took his place between the sub's legs.
Bending over, Dexter whispered in the sub's ear... "I'm going to pound into you until you cry. I'm going to shove you so full you'll split open." Dexter expected a shiver of anticipation, but instead the boy went perfectly still, not even breathing.
Well fuck.
Grabbing a beer from a passing serving boy, Dexter wandered to the double doors and tried to figure out what to do from here. Clearly most of these men were clueless... too caught up in their own fantasies to spot the obvious problems with this scenario. The subs were local, so Dexter thought they were probably ignorant as well. But the boy tied down in that room 1) wasn't local and 2) wasn't willing.
Either the boy had been brought in with lies or he'd been grabbed, but there was no guilty pleasure in his reaction, no shivers of delight or delighted fear. His body stank of terror, and he froze in horror at Dexter's words. If this was a sub who had gotten more than he deserved, Logan would probably let him go and count on shame and police apathy about such crimes to keep him safe. If the man had been kidnapped... well, that would put this more into Dexter's territory.
He pretended to drink his beer as he watched Logan who was still focused on the main event. Walking across the room, Dexter chose a spot a little farther from the action. While a dom normally focused on the sub, Logan was watching the other doms. Something was definitely wrong. Dexter considered calling the police, but if Logan was doing what Dexter suspected, the police couldn't adequately handle this situation. If Logan planned to kill that sub, then death was the only appropriate consequence for his actions.
He had M-99 tranquilizer in his car, but he wasn't properly equipped for a kill. And he hadn't yet verified that Logan was, in fact, setting up men to be raped and killed. The verification could come easily enough tonight, but that still left the problem of tools.
"A fascinating event, yes?" a voice asked. Dexter didn't bother turning toward the voice. He had already noticed the magazine-cover dom coming.
"Fascinating," Dexter echoed as he put his beer bottle on a small ledge. Hopefully this man would leave with the others, but like Logan, he had been paying more attention to the doms than the subs, so this might be a second target. "Daniel," Dexter introduced himself.
"Michael," the man returned in a slight French accent. Michael was still watching the room, his eyes only occasionally glancing over at the sub tied to the table.
"Are you a long-time acquaintance of Logan?" Michael asked. The question made Dexter frown because it was the one he had been about to ask. For a long minute, Dexter focused all his attention on this stranger. Michael had wavy hair that just brushed his shoulders, and a grace that whispered 'predator.'
"I met him tonight," Dexter said, gauging the other man for a reaction.
Michael nodded once. "It was good to meet you," he offered, and Dexter realized that he had suddenly lost Michael's interest. However, he'd said nothing interesting enough to satisfy any curiosity the man might harbor.
As Michael wandered the room, Dexter took an inventory of all the people present. Ricky was in the corner looking almost ill. Michael had wandered to a random spot that just happened to give him easy view of Logan and the exits. Dexter himself had the only other appropriate spot for observing. Chuck and two other doms were vociferously arguing leather over latex and several other doms were working over the servers. One boy had backed into a corner, clearly out of his depth, but unable to call a safeword bound and gagged. The other servers were either enduring or actively teasing the doms trying to get more attention.
Dexter recognized one of the boys as one Dexter had rejected because he seemed to have no limits. When Dexter played hard, other subs would watch as he tortured some boy nearly unconscious and then they would carefully give him distance. The harder Dexter played, the more this one tried to put himself in Dexter's path. Dexter wanted a tool who would respond to his hand, not a creature who set his own agenda. If anything, the sub hiding near the corner called to Dexter like a tool that hadn't been cleaned, that was laying out and slowly rusting. Dexter wanted his tools neatly cleaned and tended.
Giving up the superior vantage point, Dexter headed for the reluctant sub. Blue eyes went wide, and bound shoulders started trembling, so this one knew him.
"On your knees," Dexter ordered as he grabbed the sub's neck. The sub dropped immediately, but just like with the sub in that room, there was no tremor of need and anticipation accompanying the move. Dexter bent over. "The next time you make a choice, remember how wrong that choice can go," Dexter suggested. Someone had worked him over, and red marks along his stomach and back were already darkening into bruises. Whoever had done this had worked dangerously close to the kidneys.
Dexter rested his foot on the sub's back, using him as a footrest without doing him any harm. This situation was growing increasingly dangerous. Dexter mentally catalogued the weapons in his dom kit in the trunk of his car. He had a gun, but no bullets. Some of these men would not be easily bluffed. And Dexter had yet to decide just how many of these men were actively involved. Several of the knives had brutal edges that would kill as well as provide sexual satisfaction, but Dexter hated when his kills degenerated into physical fights. And he didn't have enough M-99 tranquilizer for more than one target.
"Daniel, you should go pound the communal property before he's too loose to be any fun," Chuck said as he wandered over. Dexter leaned on the sub just hard enough to make him grunt.
"I prefer to watch today," Dexter offered. In the clubs, he was known for his voyeurism as well as his sadistic play, so that shouldn't seem particularly strange.
"Logan doesn't throw these parties often. You should take advantage of this one while you can," Chuck advised him.
"Oh, I'm enjoying myself," Dexter said as he again stepped on the sub under his foot and then watched another man fuck the tied up boy. Several of the subs were watching that action enviously. In fact, all of the subs not currently getting walked on or tortured were watching enviously.
Chuck shrugged and walked away, and Dexter wondered just how long he could stand here. The violation of the rules he had so carefully crafted for himself made him edgy and angry. He could feel his tenuous control slipping as he glanced over at Logan. The longer he stood here, the more he felt his rage building, but he wouldn't violate the rules. He couldn't. He just didn't know quite how to avoid doing exactly that. And he really didn't know what he would become once he had crossed that line.
Begging
Logan was working the room, walking among the small groups and prodding the men into action. Very few of the subs were trying to antagonize the doms at this point, and Dexter had seen at least two boys go down to punches that Dexter considered dangerous. Most of the boys were still rushing to obey, but the party was turning dangerous. Dexter could feel the atmosphere shift in the room, and several of the doms seemed to react as well, moving closer or talking louder.
Dexter bent over and yanked the sub to his feet. "The door you came in, does it go to the outside?" he asked quietly. He nodded and blinked rapidly. "Move it," Dexter said as he shoved the man toward the doors. He pulled the server to a stop near the exit when he noticed eyes on them. He had to preserve the rules as best he could. That's all he knew to do. Dexter began to torture the man's balls, forcing him to spread his legs. Blue eyes watered, and Dexter squeezed and pulled on the boy's balls until he could hear the dom in that main event room cry out. Logan's eyes immediately focused there, and Dexter shoved the boy through the doors and into the hallway.
"Which way?" Dexter asked. The sub looked down the hall, and Dexter started down the corridor, the sub scrambling behind him. One of the offices had paper up in the window, and Dexter paused there, glancing at the sub for confirmation before pushing in. Inside, boxes lined one wall, and various leather gear was hanging on hooks. The subs had dressed here.
Dexter started by getting off the hood, and the sub almost immediately began to cry.
"Shut up," Dexter ordered harshly, and the sub stopped with an indrawn hiss. Dexter fisted his hands, caught between disgust for the situation this man had put himself in and respect for the rules that required him to protect him. He wanted to hurt the man, but he wanted to put him right and slip him away like a well cleaned and oiled knife. He wanted too many things that just didn't fit into his head.
"Where are your clothes?" Dexter asked, focusing on the mundane since the larger psychological issues were clearly past his control right now.
"Locked in box five, sir."
Glancing over, Dexter could see a huge padlock, and that was not going to be easy to break into. "Any personal information in there? ID? Keys?"
"No, sir. I was going to call a friend collect from the club when he returned us, sir."
"At least you're not a complete idiot," Dexter sighed as he started pulling the boy toward the door to the outside. He was going to cut up his feet on the gravel, but at least he was getting out. As an innocent, he had that right, and the rules said that Dexter had to make sure that happened.
"I'm naked," the boy objected as Dexter opened the door. Thank god Dexter hadn't unchained his hands. He reached out, caught the boy by the back of the neck and hauled him out into the night. The air was muggy, and the lights from the street barely lit the dim area. Dexter had parked half way around the building, and so he headed that way at a trot, pulling the sub along with him.
"Sir, please," the boy pleaded.
"I have clothes in my car," Dexter relented and told him. The boy was an innocent Dexter was supposed to protect, he was a sub who was a tool for Dexter's pleasure that had to be cared for; however, right now, he was an annoying obstacle to Dexter's plan.
The sub nodded and now he struggled to keep up without Dexter having to pull him. The whush of a door opening sounded in the dark just as Dexter popped his trunk. Grabbing the first weapon he could, a large Bowie knife inlaid with bone, Dexter turned back to the sub.
"Beg," he ordered.
"Sir?" Dexter could see the sub swallow, even in the low light.
He leaned in close. "We have an audience, now beg for your life, beg for my cock, beg or I'll leave you here to deal with your own mess," he whispered.
"Please, please let me suck your cock. Please. I've seen you in the club so much. I know you don't let the others suck you, but I promise to do a good job," the sub started as he sank to his knees in the parking lot. He might have a career in acting. With a sneer, Dexter raised the knife.
"You aren't worth it," he told the sub. Confusion flashed across the boy's face and then frustration. "I'm good, sir. I'm the best. Please, just let me try."
"I should cut you open," Dexter said, angling the knife in a way to let him watch Logan who now lurked the shadows of the landscaping trees.
"Please, please don't hurt me," the sub begged with a sob, and Dexter could hear the honest fear in that. When he was killing, he liked that tone, but not now. Now, it wasn't fear he wanted... it was control.
"So, do something to make me think you're worth leaving alive," Dexter said as he stared down. He leaned back against his open trunk and brought one foot up to rest on the sub's thigh. "You've seen me in the clubs, so you know what I like... what I like to do."
The sub must have understood Dexter's silent promise to leave the boy happy and sated, like the boys at the club. "Sir, I'll be the best. I can deep throat. Please, please let me do this. Please, sir," the sub begged as he knee walked forward and rubbed his head against Dexter's crotch. "Please, I'll do anything," he promised.
Dexter pretended to consider that.
"Please," the sub muttered as he inched closer. "Please. I see you in the club, and every time I try to catch your eye. I'd do anything you asked."
"Would you let me suffocate you, drug you?" Dexter asked, just loud enough for the watcher to hear. If the man was armed, Dexter needed him to believe that he had found a kindred spirit.
The sub gasped a little, his breathing so rough that Dexter could hear it over the night insects and the distant drone of cars on the highway. "Yes sir, you could, sir. Please, just let me prove that I'm worth keeping. Please," he begged again, and then he turned his face and mouthed Dexter's crotch.
Dexter could feel his erection pressing toward that warm mouth. He was following the rules, and more importantly, he was stealing another man's prey. His domination of a boy and his hunting of a monster had culminated into this one point, and with Logan watching from the shadow, Dexter could feel his hot erection harder than ever.
Instead of indulging, Dexter pushed the boy back so that he sat back on his heels and looked up with worshipful eyes. "Please, sir. You know I'd do anything for you," he whispered, and Dexter knew the boy meant it. He'd been hurt. He was scared. He'd do anything to prevent Dexter from abandoning him.
"Would you spread your legs for me, beg me to ride you bareback?" Dexter asked, pushing the game a little farther.
"Yes, sir," the sub said happily, scrambling to get up. He leaned over the hood of Dexter's car and spread his legs. His arms were encased in leather straps and buckles, and a wide plug still filled his ass. "Please, sir, fuck me. I don't need you to use a condom, I trust you."
"I might have AIDS. Maybe I just want company in my misery," Dexter said as he moved in on the sub, touching his hip and watching the muscle twitch in response. This was a willing sub, his body aching to move and react as the mind inside forced control on it. The straps and the ropes were a kindness, a physical restraint that allowed them to loosen some of that control they so desperately wanted to lose.
"Please, sir, anything. Please, fuck me," the boy begged. Dexter ran the flat of his blade over the exposed side, his own cock painfully hard now. "Please," the sub added one more time, and Dexter slammed the knife down on the hood and pulled his own cock out, pumping it several times before he splattered his come over the boy's hip. Panting, Dexter closed his eyes and leaned forward until his forehead rested on the boy's shoulder. He could hear Logan in the bushes, and Dexter picked up the knife.
Turning and casually tucking himself in, Dexter pretended to not notice the other dom closing in on him. Wandering to the back of the truck, he popped a secret compartment and retreated the M-99 and slipped it into his waistband.
Logan stepped out into the drive, and Dexter feigned surprise. "Logan."
"Daniel," the other man answered, his eyes darting to the sub still stomach down over Dexter's car. A second shadow came from around the side of the building, and Dexter recognized Michael's shape. "You left the party."
"I like to hear my boys beg. I just thought I'd arrange something a little more to my taste," Dexter answered, blatantly lying. If Logan or Michael had observed him in the club, they'd recognize his lie, but he didn't think they had seen him. Dexter had grown up observing his world for clues about how to act, so he rarely missed a detail. The subs might be largely faceless to him, each a tool for Dexter to choose or discard, but he had mentally cataloged every dom he had ever met. Michael and Logan, both such careful observers themselves, would have caught his attention in any club. Logan stepped close, but Michael stayed to the shadow.
"The party is inside. None of them agreed to anything like this," Logan said, and while the words might be taken as a warning that he had treated the sub badly, Dexter could hear the truth. Logan was testing him.
"I don't care what they agreed to," Dexter answered simply.
"Really?" Logan shifted again, this time moving toward the sub.
Dexter laughed and walked over to the boy, quickly pulling buckles and straps free, even as he used a hand on the boy's neck to keep him safely pinned. This was bordering on insanely dangerous, and if the boy ran now, Dexter wasn't sure what would happen. Michael was staying so far away that Dexter was now almost sure the man was armed. He certainly wasn't close enough to provide backup with a knife or with fists.
Tossing the last of the restraints on the hood of his car, Dexter grabbed the boy and spun him so that his back was to the passenger side door. He was naked, barefoot and bruised, but he was breathing, and Dexter wasn't sure that all the subs would be at the end of the night. He was almost positive that Logan and Michael intended at least one sub to die, and Dexter was going to have to use every skill he had to prevent that from happening. In fact, Dexter was going to try and add two new drops of blood to his collection of trophies.
"Stay," Dexter ordered, and he slapped the boy across the face to make his point. The sub stared at him with wide eyes and nodded. Taking a chance that the boy had control enough to follow orders, Dexter grabbed a pair of dirty running sweats and a t-shirt from his trunk. He came back and thrust them into the subs hands.
"I'm bored with you," he said as he stepped back and looked at him with more than a little contempt. Walk naked to the far side of the parking lot, and then put on my dirty clothes and walk home barefoot," Dexter ordered him. The sub swallowed, and Dexter stepped close. "And if you were stupid enough to bring your house keys or ID, I'm going to make a house visit to you that you will never forget or recover from," he threatened. "Now walk!"
Dexter grabbed the boy by the neck and gently flung him away from the car. The boy started slowly, padding across the parking lot with Dexter's come dripping down one leg and his old running clothes clutched tightly to his chest. Leaning back against the car, Dexter smirked at the retreating ass, trying to not hold his breath as the boy passed Michael without ever seeing the other man. One piece of prey stolen from these monsters, and now Dexter just had to figure out how the turn the tables and make them his prey.
"His clothes are still inside," Logan pointed out.
"I don't care," Dexter answered, and he didn't. The boy was nearly running now. Hopefully he'd get some medical help for those bruises because Dexter was pretty sure that the kidneys were bruised.
"Chuck said you had a rougher edge to you," Logan said slowly. Dexter didn't answer, letting the words hang in the air as he waited for more. If Chuck was in on raping unwilling boys, Dexter would kill his former mentor. Of course, the odds were not in his favor with so many apparently involved.
"Chuck talks more than he acts," Logan added. Again, Dexter just waited, watching as the boy reached the far side of the parking lot and pulled on the clothes Dexter had given him. "And those clothes stunk."
"He got what he deserved," Dexter shrugged. He was willing to bet that the sub would agree that he deserved Dexter's old sweats more than being hooded and tied in a room full sadists who were not paying attention to how far they were going. Although, to be fair, all the doms left the boy alone once he had retreated to the corner. He reached the far end of the street and turned right, and Dexter returned all of his focus on Logan and Michael.
"Enjoy the show?" Dexter asked as he walked to the back and slammed the trunk of his car.
"Very much," Logan agreed.
"I don't appreciate being watched." Dexter looked meaningfully at Logan before turning his gaze to Michael.
When Logan made a strange noise, Dexter looked over in time to see a flash of alarm before the night exploded into violence. A half dozen armed men leap up from behind a low retaining wall, shouting commands, and Dexter dropped his knife, not willing to physically fight with such an overwhelming force.
"What the fuck?" Logan cursed as two black vans squealed around the office building and screeched to a stop in front of them. Dexter could feel panic rise in his throat as the gunmen shoved him face first onto the hood of his car where the sub had just stood and kicked his legs apart. One man forced Dexter's arm high up onto his back while another frisked him. The small knife in his boot and his syringe of M99 were confiscated, and from the cursing, Logan was being just as efficiently searched.
"I have money, damn it. Name your fucking price. I know people."
"Shut him up," Michael ordered in his French accent, and Logan's words were muffled by a gag.
"What about him?" a voice asked, and Dexter's guts tightened as he realized that someone else was deciding his fate right now, and he had no control at all. The thug behind him leaned his weight into Dexter's ass, pinning him to the car even more firmly.
"Leave him," Michael ordered. Dexter lay silent as doors slammed and boots thumped against the pavement, and finally the man pinning him to the car let go. Dexter stood up and turned, and one van was already pulling out of the lot. In the second van, Michael studied him for a second, clearly evaluating Dexter, and Dexter realized he had badly misjudged this whole situation. The second van pulled away and Dexter was left alone in a parking lot that looked exactly like it had five minutes ago before the blitz attack.
Dexter's heart pounded, and for several seconds, he couldn't do anything other than lean against his car and try and sort through what had just happened. Quite often, he found himself bewildered by human behavior and emotion, but this was beyond even his ability to deal with the oddities of humanity.
Still dizzy with adrenaline, Dexter focused on the office building. He had subs to get out and horny doms to distract from an unwilling guest of honor, but at least now, the person responsible was no longer around to interfere with Dexter's attempts to get the world to again conform to his rules. He just had to wonder who the hell had just taken the monster who Dexter had marked for death.