The Cage E-Book

Catt Ford

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 378

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

Welcome to The Cage, where you can share the ups and downs of a group of friends as they enjoy a rollicking adventure of sex and love in "the life." Being a Dom has always come naturally to Lazar Thornton, owner and operator of The Cage, a thriving adult toy store and meeting place for Lazar's closest friends, Bran, Max, Otto, and the always flamboyant and fierce Miss Dré. But even the best of friends have different tastes in scenes—and in life. Good-humored and laid back, but much in demand as both teacher and Dom, Lazar has always run from love. Until Ben Owen, relative newbie to the BDSM world, arrives wide-eyed and eager to learn, and Lazar wants to teach this sub everything he knows. But despite the openness needed for a Dom/sub relationship to thrive, neither discusses emotions. Feeling the sting of unrequited love, Ben isn't as sure of his place in Lazar's life as he wants to be. Lazar will need to read his sub's heart as well as his mind if he truly wants to keep Ben in his life.

Leseprobe

Readers love

CATTFORD

Bullheaded

“This book beautifully meshed coming of age and retirement storylines… I loved every word of it all.”

—Live Your Life, Buy the Book

“It’s absolutely brilliant and intense and realistic. It provides enjoyment in all forms and it would be a shame to miss it.”

—MM Good Book Reviews

“If you know nothing about the sport of bull riding, but are interested, and you have a great love of M/M romance this is the book for you.”

—Gay List Book Reviews

The Last Concubine

“…this book to me was full of energy and excitement… it kept me interested to see what happens next…”

—Reviews by Jessewave

The Untold Want

“I applaud Ms. Ford for tackling this story… I absolutely enjoyed this book and would love to see Myles and Davion again in the future.”

—Dark Diva Reviews

“The Untold Want stands out from the sea of romances for the good writing and in depth characters… this is definitely a story I’d recommend.”

—Long and Short Reviews

By CATT FORD

Bullheaded

Bully for You

The Cage

With Sean Kennedy:Dash and Dingo

Extreme Bull

Hook, Line, and Sinker

The Last Concubine

Lily White Rose Red

Long Way Home

Murder at the Rocking R

Riding Out the Bull

A Strong Hand

Summer Fever

The Untold Want

Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Published by

DREAMSPINNER PRESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886  USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Cage

© 2015 Catt Ford.

Cover Art

© 2015 Catt Ford.

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-63476-395-0

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63476-396-7

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015905046

First Edition July 2015

Printed in the United States of America

This paper meets the requirements of

ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

To L, who held my hand and encouraged me all the way.

PROLOGUE

HE’DLOOKED through the windows before. Not pressed his nose and stared, just a glance in passing. He and everyone else on the crowded sidewalk, all pretending they weren’t looking. He turned bodily away from The Cage but craned his neck. Inside the tantalizing implements of his lurid sexual fantasies gleamed under the lights, beckoning to him. All he had to do was enter.

Ben had never actually seen anyone go in, but there were always customers inside. A flicker of movement or the way the light was cut off by a shadow told the story.

The ambivalence of the crowd on the street provided a certain anonymity for those brave enough to enter.

This was no furtive dusty store of guilty pleasures hidden in a side street. The Cage was sleek, stylish, and modern. Large windows gave tempting glimpses of what awaited inside.

The skin of the building was polished black granite with a hint of sparkle in the dark depths. The double doors were contemporary in design and made of dull black metal. Bands of horizontal windows provided forbidden glimpses of whatever was going on inside but gave nothing away.

The handle felt cool and solid under his fingers. He took a deep breath. If he didn’t go inside now, he might never find the courage again.

The walls were black and the ceiling at least twenty feet high. Red neon lights snaked around the interior, spilling a bloodred sheen onto the black floor. Mannequins dressed in leather and bondage gear posed on a high ledge running across the back wall. Red light cast upward turned them into illicit figures of menacing promise. He imagined they were alive, breathing, staring at him in judgment from behind their masks.

“Welcome to The Cage.”

He turned to face a group of five men. Or wait, four men and one… drag queen? With her six-inch dominatrix boots she was the tallest of the lot. Her skin gleamed like polished ebony. Dressed in a black patent-leather catsuit, she was confident, powerful, riveting. The perfect fit of the catsuit revealed an androgynously seductive figure. Her chest was unabashedly flat and her waist slender. She twisted her body slightly so he wouldn’t miss the perfect, lush globes of her ass. When Ben stared at her buttocks, she smiled mockingly.

A white man with a shaved head and nerdy black glasses stood next to her. He was the most casual of the lot, dressed in black cargoes and T-shirt. His studded leather belt gave no indication of which side of the whip he preferred.

A second man in his early fifties dressed in a charcoal suit, white shirt, and black tie clenched an unlit cigar in his teeth, accentuating the deep lines grooved from his nose to the corners of his mouth. Ferociously the man chomped down on the cigar, and Ben looked away from him hastily.

A tall muscular man in tight leather pants leaned against a glass display case. A mesh shirt covered the leather harness crossing his hairy chest. His eyebrows were thick and his dark hair well cut. The mustache and goatee gave him a devilish look. He glanced briefly at Ben and turned back to watch the crowd outside.

The last man stepped out from behind the counter, and Ben caught his breath.

This man was tall, over six feet, and dressed entirely in gleaming black leather. His shiny black hair was brushed straight back off his handsome face. Broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips. His biceps strained at the sleeves of his shirt, and his hands were large and powerful. Although his face was stern, the curve of his lips hinted at a sense of humor. His smile carved dimples in his cheeks as his expression morphed from polite to predatory.

The air of command set Ben’s heart pounding in fear and anticipation. Of the imposing group facing him, this man was the alpha. He prowled toward Ben with the confidence of a lion, ensnaring Ben with his gaze.

“What?” Ben asked faintly.

“I said, can I help you?”

Oh shit. Oh please. Yes.

CHAPTER 1

“HOWARE you doing?”

“The butterflies in my stomach just turned into vultures.”

“You’re sure you want to go through with it?”

Ben realized he was jiggling his foot and stopped. He stood up and looked into Lazar’s eyes. “Yes. Let’s do this.”

Lazar put his hands on Ben’s shoulders. “You can still change your mind.”

“Go big or go home.” Ben grinned.

“As long as you’re not biting off more than you can chew. Role play, exhibitionism, and drag all in one go is a lot, even for a sub with years of experience.”

“I’m a fast learner.”

“And?” Lazar raised his brows.

“I have a great Dom.”

“That’s my boy.” Lazar chuckled and let him go. “Your safeword for tonight?”

“Red for stop, yellow for give me a minute, and green for more.”

Lazar laughed again. “I don’t recall mentioning green, but hopefully I’ll have you begging for more.”

Ben’s pulse surged in his veins at those words. Begging…. “You always do,” he murmured.

“We talked about what we’re going to do, but I may throw in a few surprises.”

Ben sucked in a breath at the evil glint in Lazar’s eyes when he smiled. “O-kay….”

“It’ll be fun.” Lazar put his arms around Ben. “You know how to stop me if it gets too much for you.”

“Yeah, I do,” Ben said, with more confidence.

“You’ll be okay.” Lazar released him. “You’d better get going so you can make your grand entrance.”

“Right.”

“Don’t be late, boy.”

The scene had begun.

Before Ben left, he turned back for one last look. With his imposing Dom face on and clad completely in leather, Lazar seemed almost like a stranger, reminding Ben of the first time they met. He thought twice about going through with it, but then Lazar gave him a wink.

Slipping outside into the back alley, Ben closed the door and leaned against it to take in a deep breath. Behind him he heard the bolt slide home. He could still run away or change his mind. Nothing compelled him to go through with this.

Nothing but his own need.

“WHEREARE the worker bees?” Max asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

“Let them go early to celebrate. Pride Week. Gotta love it.” Lazar shook his head in resignation. “It’s only us holding down the fort.”

“I don’t think you can afford our hourly rate.” Otto snorted and turned his back on the shop windows. The crowd outside blocked most of the light. “Tourists looking for a thrill.”

“Yeah, when they actually buy something,” Lazar said. “Window shoppers just block the door.”

“Because most of your customers are far too shy to push their way through a crowd, darling.” Miss Dré didn’t bother to look up from the mirror she used to touch up her mascara.

“Yeah, pity they’re so reticent.” Lazar laughed and flexed his shoulders. Earlier in the day, he’d hosted a public flogging in front of his shop with Bran wielding the whip. A huge crowd of onlookers cheered Bran on, but when his shoulder wore out, Lazar had stepped in and taken up the slack, hence the tight muscles. The satisfied volunteer sub had been taken home by his rightful owner, his red ass framed by his leather chaps, and sent on his way by playful slaps to the rump from assorted Doms in the crowd. The demonstration resulted in a surge of customers into The Cage, and sales had been more than satisfactory.

Bran’s teeth gleamed white in his tanned face when he smiled. “I’m good to go again. The stocks are still set up out there. I could go out and commandeer a volunteer.”

His body was imposing, his thick neck circled by a thick collar with scary-looking pointed studs sticking out.

“The bear goes on the hunt. All you have to do is step outside in that getup and you’ll have them on their knees for yards around,” Lazar said.

“Yards?” Bran cracked his knuckles ominously. “Try miles. Word of my prowess—”

“Shut up, darling. It’s Gay Pride week, not S&M Pride week.” Miss Dré sashayed over to Bran and leaned in to aim a kiss at his face. “How many female subs do you suppose are wandering around out there looking for a bear like you?”

“If they knew I was here, a bunch of queers wouldn’t keep them away.”

Bran tried to pull away from her, but Miss Dré hooked a red-lacquered nail through the ring of his harness to hold him in place and leaned closer to plant her lips on his cheek. “You straights are so adorable in your delusions.”

Bran slipped an arm around her waist. “I might make an exception for you.”

Miss Dré snuggled into his arm. “In your dreams, darling.”

“The hills are alive with the sound of music,” Otto observed.

“I don’t know about climbing every mountain, but I wouldn’t mind climbing this one. Think you could handle me?” She scraped her nails over the impressive leather-clad bulge.

“Hey!” Bran yelped and jumped away from her. “Sheathe those claws, princess.”

“That’s androgynous fucking supermodel diva to you.” Miss Dré raised her hand to her forehead in a theatrical gesture. “I might be able to work up a lady boner for you, but alas! Our love is never meant to be. It’s a tragedy.”

“Yeah, bummer Shakespeare’s feeding the worms. He could have written you a great new ending.” Lazar snickered at the uneasy look on Bran’s face. Honestly, some straights were just too easy, and Miss Dré had great instincts for how much to push it.

Morosely, Max said, “If you keep on talking about ends, the least you could do is provide one. All these great toys and no one to try them out on.”

“You mean Lazar should hire some willing subs to stand around in the corners waiting for you to come in and test shit out on them? That’s an idea.” Otto nodded in approval.

Max grinned. “It’s a great idea! That’d get the foot traffic up, don’t you think, Laz?”

“Sure do. In fact, I’d probably have to fight off the crowds of police wanting to interview me about providing sex for money.”

“Fuck the cops.” Max’s smile faded.

“Oh, I do as often as I can,” Lazar said. “I’m sure they account for at least a third of my business.”

“You mean they come in here?” Miss Dré clasped her hand to her heart. “How come I’m never around when they do? I do so love a man in uniform!”

“They usually don’t come in uniform when they’re shopping, Miss Dré.” Lazar snorted with amusement. “I can see it now, San Francisco’s finest trooping in here in full regulation on their lunch hour, looking for toys.”

“It would be better for their physiques than a donut break,” Bran said. “I could give them a workout. At least the female officers.”

“They’re all lesbians, darling.” Miss Dré batted her eyelashes.

“The laws of probability are against it,” Otto said. “If they look butch, they probably just find it’s an asset in their line of work.”

“God, you’re such an engineer! You think he works out mathematical formulas for the weight load delivered in each blow when he’s throwing a whip?” Max sneered.

“I do.” Otto pushed up his glasses. “Mass times velocity equals momentum. Say you take a flogger with thin strands of leather and compare it to one with thicker strands. The energy transferred from my arm to the sub’s back is spread over a larger area with the thicker strands. Ergo, I can put more into it and he can last longer.”

“Leaving out the type of leather, whether it’s braided or flat strands, the sub’s tolerance, what kind of shape you’re in, if you worked late the night before—”

“Of course there’s a formula for any of those equations, Lazar. Any variable can be computed and—” Otto pulled out his iPhone and started typing.

“Darling! Let me get a pen so I can write that down.” Miss Dré covered a delicate yawn with her hand. “Maybe your theory will win a Poulet Surprise.”

“Maybe it should.” Otto stared at Miss Dré.

“Great, now he’s designing a PhD course in The Arithmetic of Sadomasochism,” Lazar said.

Judiciously, Bran said, “A lot of people could use a course like that. Too many amateurs.”

The bell over the door jingled, and the men looked up at the newcomer. Bran and Max laughed and turned away after one glance.

Lazar called out, “Can I help you?”

The newcomer stood frozen in place. His mouth dropped open and his eyes were round with surprise behind his glasses. Wearing baggy jeans and a worn T-shirt with the message “I like to be watched” emblazoned on the front, the young man appeared to have wandered in by accident. Lazar liked what he saw. Like a primal drumbeat, a possessive word throbbed up from deep inside. Mine.

After a minute of silence, the newcomer dove for cover behind a rounder.

“Well, isn’t he just so precious?” Miss Dré giggled. “Laz, my dear, close your mouth. Your tongue is dragging on the floor.”

“So vanilla,” Bran mock-lisped. “Probably stumbled in here by accident.”

“Probably some newbie.” Max yawned. “Bet he’s looking for a starter plug.”

“Hey, don’t scare off the paying customers,” Lazar said.

“We’re paying customers.” Max waved his unlit cigar at Lazar. “In fact, I drop a lot of dough here.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” Lazar licked his lips as he stared after the young man, even though all he could currently see of him was a mop of tousled brown hair. “Maybe I should help him pick something out.”

“Duh dunh duh da.” Miss Dré hummed the wedding song off-key.

“No wonder you drag queens lip sync. You can’t carry a tune in a bucket.” Max covered his ears.

“That was on purpose. I can sing!” Fire flashing in her eyes, Miss Dré turned on Max, but her retort was obliterated by the sound of a crash and shattering glass.

Lazar winced and called out, “Hey, are you all right?”

“Yeah” came the breathless reply. “I think I broke something.”

“You don’t say.” Lazar stalked to the scene of the crime to find the young man on his hands and knees, ass stuck up in the air, one foot encased in a cardboard box, groping blindly as he tried to gather up shards of broken glass from the carpet. His glasses were lying a few feet away.

“That’s a pretty sight.” Otto pushed his glasses up on his nose and stared at the round cheeks stretching the baggy jeans taut.

“You didn’t break any part of you, right?”

“No, just your merchandise.” The young man’s voice was muffled by his position. “I’m really sorry.”

“Freeze! Don’t move!”

The young man stopped moving instantly and blinked up at Lazar.

“Don’t you know better than to pick up broken glass with your bare hands? Drop it!”

“Drop it, puppy! Sit, beg!” Miss Dré sauntered over to join them and fluttered her eyelashes at the boy. “Oooh, pretty boy! Why, Miss Thing, without your glasses, you’re… gasp! Dare I say it, beautiful!”

“Drop the glass,” Lazar ordered patiently. “On the floor. Now.”

“He’s a bright one.” Max sniffed.

“He’s just nervous,” Lazar said.

The young man squinted around at the men gathered around him.

“He means you should place the broken glass carefully back on the carpet before you cut yourself,” Otto explained slowly, as if to a five-year-old.

Losing patience, Lazar grabbed the waistband of the kid’s jeans and delivered a resounding smack to his ass. “Drop the glass and get up.”

Finally the kid let the glass fall and scrambled to his feet. He tried to twist out of Lazar’s grip without success. “I’m really sorry. I’ll pay for it, whatever it was.”

Lazar gave him a shake while retaining his grasp on the kid’s jeans. “We’ll call it even. I shouldn’t have left that empty box out.”

The kid looked down at his foot still embedded in the box and blushed. “Sorry. I guess I’m not the most graceful thing on two feet.”

Unable to think of any viable reason why he should continue to hang on to the kid, Lazar let go. “Miss Dré? Would you mind bringing out the vacuum cleaner?”

Miss Dré waved her arms dramatically. “A woman’s work is never done. Why me?”

“I just got in a new french maid costume,” Lazar said.

“Darling! Where is it? I must model it for you.”

Lazar gave directions and called after Dré, “Don’t forget the vacuum cleaner!”

“Fuck you very much” floated back from the queen. “Why is it such a mess back here?”

“Had to move the stuff out of the basement to make room for the rent-a-dungeon. Haven’t had time to organize yet.” Lazar raised his voice so she could hear him.

“At least give me a hint so I’m not in here all night,” Miss Dré called.

“Last time I saw it, the vacuum was over by the cross.”

“Thank you! There are only three crosses back here.”

“At least they’re all together,” Lazar shouted back.

The kid wrapped his arms around his midsection and eyed Lazar skittishly.

“That’s some line of bullshit you handed Miss Dré,” Max said.

“Diplomacy, Max. Know your clientele. Speaking of which….” Lazar came closer to the kid, looming in a way he knew would intimidate a far more experienced man. “What were you looking for? Maybe I can help you.” He delivered the last line in a deep, seductive voice.

The kid took a quick step back, clearly forgetting about the box stuck on his foot, collided with another display, and went down again. He came up, apologized to a blow-up sex doll, and then blushed when the men roared with laughter.

Lazar pointed to the boy’s eyeglasses. “Your specs are right there, twinkle toes.”

“Did someone call for merry maids? Or at least an extremely gay maid?” Miss Dré sailed in, costumed in a french maid’s outfit with a frilly white apron, holding the vacuum cleaner in one hand. “How do I look?” She performed an exaggerated runway walk and posed in front of the window with one hip jutted out. She handled the heavy vacuum cleaner easily, as if it were a fashion accessory.

“Gorgeous,” Lazar said. “Man, your legs go on for miles. Bran, you have to shoot her in this outfit. Once I put that photo on the wall, they’ll sell like hotcakes.”

“How’d you get out of the catsuit so fast?” Otto reached out to touch the fabric of her skirt.

Miss Dré slapped his hand away without missing a beat. “Baby powder before I get dressed. It makes fast costume changes a snap. Tips from a professional, boys. Testify!”

“You look unbelievable. Can’t wait to shoot you,” Bran said.

“I do set off an ensemble, darling, don’t I?” Dré smoothed the perky little skirt with one hand and struck another pose.

“You could make any cheap schmatta look expensive,” Max admitted.

Dré let the vacuum crash to the floor and advanced on him with both arms outstretched. “Darling! That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said in your entire lifetime! You deserve a kiss to motivate you to bigger and better things.”

Max submitted to the kiss and gave Dré a rueful grin. “Superfox. I might even come to your show one night if you comped me a ticket.”

“You devil, you sure know how to pay a girl a compliment! He’s willing to come watch me perform for free.” Miss Dré returned to her vacuum.

The young man still cowered against the sex doll and squinted without his glasses.

“Oh look, he wants to play with dolls. Maybe he doesn’t know they’re not real. What’s your name, lover?”

Lazar frowned. He’d already claimed the kid for himself in his mind, and he didn’t need Dré horning in on his territory.

“Uh, it’s, uh, Ben. Ben Owen.” The kid stuck his hand out in Dré’s direction.

Another burst of laughter greeted the introduction. “Ben is bent! What a great name for a sub!” Bran crowed.

“Ben Dover would be better.”

“Very original, Max. And he will be if I have anything to say about it.” Lazar picked up the kid’s glasses and handed them to him. Waiting until Ben put them on, he said, “Put your hand on my shoulder and stand completely still, for the love of my store.” When Ben remained motionless, staring like a deer caught in headlights, Lazar grabbed the kid’s hand and put it on his own shoulder, then crouched to pick up the foot stuck in the box. He yanked the box off and let go of the foot, straightening up so quickly Ben lost his balance and staggered into a rack of leather pants. He knocked it over and fell to the floor himself, disappearing under the rain of dislodged clothing.

“Okay, that’s it.” Lazar grabbed Ben’s T-shirt and jerked him to his feet, ignoring the ripping sound. “You’re a danger to yourself and my merchandise. Get up and get out!” He pushed the kid toward the front door.

“But I said I’d pay. I didn’t mean to break anything! Really.”

The distress on the kid’s face made Lazar pause. “Can I trust you to pick up that rack and hang up all the pants?”

“The pants aren’t breakable,” the kid pointed out bravely.

“Go for it.” Lazar crossed his arms and assumed a menacing stance. “And be quick about it.”

“And so, little pumpkin, are you bent?” Dré asked.

“If you’re asking if I’m gay, I am.” The kid paused and glanced around at the men watching him.

“You guys are on your own.” Bran strolled back to the front counter and leaned his elbows on it.

“Hey, an ass is an ass.” Max tilted his head slightly to get a better look at Ben’s. “For whipping or fucking.”

Ben’s eyes widened, and he looked quickly at Lazar.

Lazar gave him a slight shake of the head.

“So obedient, isn’t he? A Dom’s dream come true.” Dré started humming and turned on the vacuum, running it over the rug until she’d captured all the broken glass. Then she disappeared into the back.

“What do you think she’ll come back as next?” Otto asked.

“You never know. That’s the genius of Miss Dré.” Lazar shrugged.

“So if you’ll just tell me what I owe you, sir, I’ll get out of here before I fuck anything else up,” Ben said.

Lazar turned to face him. Ben was standing in an open space where he couldn’t possibly knock anything over. “Let’s see, you broke a lava lamp, and I don’t even know how you did that. Nobody ever breaks a lava lamp. I’ll have to call in a steam cleaner for the rug—”

“Won’t it just dry on its own? That’s not the worst thing that’s ever been spilled on this rug,” Bran said.

Lazar scowled at him. “Toxic liquid in a lava lamp—”

“The liquid in a lava lamp is not toxic. It wouldn’t be leg—” Otto stopped short with his mouth hanging open when Lazar silenced him with a glare.

“Okay, flammable, then. This is a retail setting. Innocent customers come in here expecting to be safe. The rug will need to be professionally cleaned. Then there’s the wear and tear on the rack and the clothing. And of course, you got intimate with the blow-up doll, so you’ll have to buy that because it wouldn’t be hygienic for me to sell it to anyone else. I figure that comes out to right around five hundred.”

The young man turned pale. “I—I don’t have that kind of money. Maybe I could work it off?”

“He wants to work it off,” Otto informed Miss Dré, who had just returned clad as a Glinda the Good Witch in a poufy pink-sequined gown and carrying a wand.

“Werq, darling!” Dré exclaimed. “Sashay this way—”

“If I could sashay that way….” Otto did his best Groucho imitation complete with eyebrow wiggle and imaginary cigar.

“Stand still!” Lazar roared at Ben as he started for the door. “Just—hold still. You’ll probably hurt yourself if you move. What’d you come in for anyway?”

“A—a butt plug.” Ben’s face turned bright red.

“Told you so,” Max whispered.

“What kind did you want?” Lazar asked.

“Kind?” Ben turned his head slightly to look at the colorful display out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t you go on the Internet? You kids are supposed to live on the computer,” Otto said.

“I—yeah—I do—but—”

“Butt!” Miss Dré exclaimed gleefully. “He’s hungry to have his butt filled. And I shall make your wish come true.” She tapped the kid’s shoulder with her wand.

“What is that?” Ben asked, staring at the wand.

“This is my magic wand, and it proves I’m a fairy,” Miss Dré said. “I can grant you one wish, but you’ll have to wear the ruby slippers for it to come true.” She lifted her skirts to display red-sequined stilettos.

“I thought she proved she was a fairy long before she got that wand,” Max muttered. Otto nodded in agreement.

“I don’t think I want to wear those.” Ben gulped audibly. “With my luck, I’d probably break an ankle.”

“Good point. But about getting that ass filled.” Miss Dré winked at Ben and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I suspect the proprietor of this fine establishment has some interest in helping you with that.” She stroked her fingers over the wand. “And maybe you could get something else filled at the same time.”

Fascinated, Ben watched her play with the wand. “You put that up your ass?”

Even Max smiled at that one. “She’d never feel that little thing up in the Grand Canyon.”

“Are you calling me a slut, sir?” Miss Dré drew herself up to her full six foot five inches to stare haughtily down her nose at Max.

“If the shoe fits.”

“As long as it’s a Manolo Blahnik, I’ll take it.” Miss Dré giggled.

The kid looked even more terrified.

Lazar decided to grab center stage even though it was a bit challenging with Miss Dré in the house. He took the wand from her and showed it to the kid. “See how delicate and thin it is? This is a wand one slides up the slit in one’s penis. It’s a very unique feeling. Interested? You mentioned working off your debt.”

“You aren’t sliding that up my dick,” Ben said defiantly.

“Listen to her! Girlfriend thinks she has a dick!” Miss Dré laughed.

“Oh, she’s got one. Dammit! He! He’s got one. Dré, stop fucking with my pronouns.” Lazar took a step closer to the kid. Fear and arousal wafted off Ben, and Lazar’s lips curled in a predatory smile. He scraped his nails across the telltale bulge in the kid’s jeans. When Ben jumped away from his touch, Lazar’s cock started to fill.

“I wouldn’t dream of fucking with your pronouns, Laz. Our little snowflake’s another story. He gets my motor running,” Miss Dré said throatily.

“Lazar’s saying if you let him stick that wand up your dick, it’ll take care of what you owe,” Max said bluntly.

“Now you, darling, it would take another mechanism entirely to get it up.” Miss Dré tapped the end of Max’s nose and laughed when he frowned at her.

“I don’t think I want to do that,” Ben said faintly.

“So you don’t want to wear drag, and you don’t want the wand. Seems like you’re slipping, Laz. Letting the sub set the terms?” Bran snickered.

“We’re negotiating. Isn’t that right, Ben?” Lazar took a step closer and sniffed. He grinned when Ben leaned back.

“I meant maybe I could clean up around here or unpack boxes or take the garbage out.”

“I’m not interesting in cleaning services. I get that for free. You think you’re the only sub who comes in here looking for handouts?” A sudden thought struck, and Lazar turned to the other men. “I’ve got an idea.”

“He’s famous for his ideas,” Otto said to Ben.

“Bran, lock the door, will you?”

“Sure.” The big man locked the door and turned the sign around so it said Closed.

“Are you holding me hostage?” Evidently Ben was trying for defiant, but Lazar heard the tremor in his voice. “That’s illegal.”

“All the funnest things are,” Miss Dré said. “Spill, Laz. I’m dying to hear this idea of yours.”

“What we have here”—Lazar prowled around the kid, looking his slender frame up and down, wishing he had X-ray vision—“is a man with a debt to pay. He’s been offered several ways to do it, but he doesn’t care for the terms.”

“Let’s get this show on the road.” Max checked his watch. “You’ve already admitted you owe Lazar here for damages and emotional suffering.”

“Emotional suffering?” Now Ben took a step back. “I think I’m the one who—”

“You can’t outfox Mad Max. He’s a lawyer, so don’t even try,” Otto explained.

“You don’t have the money. I want recompense. So we have a verbal contract. Agreed?”

Ben gritted his teeth. “Yeah, we do.”

“Well, then you have to do something,” Otto pointed out.

“I guess,” the kid said sulkily. “But I don’t want to do any of those things.”

“You don’t?” Lazar took another step closer. “I think you do. I think you want it so bad I can smell it.”

Mesmerized, the kid stared back at Lazar for several seconds before he yielded. “No, I don’t.”

“Look at me.”

The kid shifted from one foot to the other.

“I said, look at me!” Lazar’s voice cracked like a whip in the silence, and the kid slowly raised his eyes to meet Lazar’s gaze. “The truth. I want the truth.”

Ben shivered and then opened and shut his mouth several times. He swallowed. “I want—something.”

CHAPTER 2

“FINALLY!” BRAN threw up his arms to indicate a touchdown. “Can we move this along, Laz? This is slower than a daytime soap.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re canceling all of them,” Otto said. “I read about it.”

“No, it’s because none of them are starring moi!”

“Again with the Miss Piggy impressions.” The corners of Max’s mouth twitched.

“Oooh, S&M Muppets,” Miss Dré squealed. “I like it!”

“There’s an idea,” Otto said. “Expose the kids when they’re young, and there’d be less of a bias against fetishes.”

“Then it wouldn’t be a fetish anymore,” Max said. “There has to be something forbidden about it to make it really sing.”

Lazar lifted one of Ben’s wrists to examine his wimpy leather bands more closely and snickered. Pathetic. A slight tremor shook the kid’s hand at his touch.

“Darling, is he a fashion-masochist?” Miss Dré tittered. “Pathetic wannabes.”

“Do you mean a masochist to the vagaries of fashion or wearing the trappings with no intention of calling for the real thing?” Otto asked.

“You’re always so literal, sweetie.” Miss Dré patted Otto’s bald head. “Writing a teenage sex manual?”

“Get off me.” Otto batted her hand away but grinned sheepishly. “You guys need to say when you’re kidding.”

“Well, boy, which is it?” Lazar demanded. “Are you curious or you just want the look?”

The blush flamed over Ben’s face again, and he squirmed.

“Answer me, or I’ll kick your ass around the block and then you’ll never get what you want.”

“You mean, you’d let me buy the plug?”

“No, I mean I’ll give you what you really want.” Lazar knew how to make a sub tremble with only his voice, and he was having the desired effect on the kid.

After a brief silence, the kid’s chest rose and fell as he struggled to find his voice. “How do you know what I want?”

“I know.”

“Okay.”

The surrender sent a surge of blood to Lazar’s cock. He could almost hear the creak of his leather pants straining against the assault of his growing erection. Watching the resistance drain out of the slender body only increased his eagerness to claim Ben. This was just the first step, and he knew the kid would fight him every inch of the way, even if Ben thought the worst was now over.

“Gentlemen, we finally have a contract. Now we need to work out the details. What’s your safeword?”

“Safeword?”

“How do you not put in the research before you come to a place like this?” Otto demanded.

“They can’t all be like you, O.” Max thumped Otto’s shoulder.

“Pet names!” Miss Dré crowed. “Better not let your better half know Max was coming on to you.”

Otto grinned and pushed up his glasses. “Yeah, Sherm might get jealous. Not.”

“Thanks a lot,” Max grumbled.

“I’ve read some stories.” Ben crossed his arms over his chest.

“Stories.” Bran rolled his eyes and kept his distance from the proceedings.

“Why are you lurking by the door?” Miss Dré pointed a finger at Bran. “Afraid we’ll rub off on you?”

“How hot can it be? I’m straight, remember?” Bran shrugged his muscular shoulders. “Still, it’s always a pleasure to watch Lazar in action.”

Lazar snapped his fingers in Ben’s face to recall his attention. “Okay, boy, we’ll keep it simple. Red is your safeword. It means stop. Yellow means slow down. I’ll give you a break if you say yellow, but you better mean it if you say it.” Lazar licked his lips. When he stood close enough, he got an enticing glimpse of nipple through the shirt he’d torn earlier. He grabbed the kid’s shirt again, deliberately enlarging the rip, and dragged him to a display of restraints. “First we need proper cuffs so I can control you. Otherwise you’ll tear up the other half of my store.”

“I didn’t tear up half the store!” Ben glanced at the blow-up doll still askew on its stand. “I’m a little bit of a klutz when I’m nervous.”

Deliberately Lazar raised one of Ben’s wrists, took the thin leather band between his fingers, and ripped right through it. Ben’s eyes widened, and he started to shiver.

“I like those.” Miss Dré pointed at the display. “They’re giving me evening-glove eleganza.”

“Could do.” Lazar took the leather cuffs from the display and ripped the tag off. When he finished with the buckles and straps, the kid’s arm was covered in black leather from his wrist to his elbow. “Give me your other hand.”

Silently, Ben obeyed as Lazar strapped the cuff on him. Then he stared at his arms and flexed his hands.

“I think he likes it!” Miss Dré giggled.

Deftly Lazar linked the D-rings at the wrist and bound Ben’s hands together in front. He hooked his finger through a ring and towed the kid to the front counter. “Try not to fall on your ass.”

“Should I dim the lights?” Bran asked. He nodded at the crowd gathered at the window to take in the action.

After a quick glance at the kid’s blushing face, Lazar said, “Nah, leave them on. I think he likes it.”

“I don’t!” Ben protested.

“False advertising, then.” Max pointed at the slogan on his T-shirt. “Better get a new shirt.”

“Yes,” Lazar agreed. “I’m sure we can find something better for you to wear.”

The kid flinched as Lazar ripped the shirt down the back and let the remnants slide down to his bound wrists.

“Oh fuck,” Ben muttered.

“That can and will be arranged.” The kid had a nice build, slim but toned, with broad shoulders, lean hips, and an entirely fuckable ass. Great nipples too. Lazar couldn’t wait to torture them.

“You’re going to fuck me?” The kid squeaked.

“Only if you beg real nice.”

That seemed to reassure the kid, and Lazar was willing to bet Ben was promising himself he wouldn’t be begging. Of course, that was part of the fun—getting them to where they were gagging for it.

“Gentlemen, this young man has agreed to take it out in trade for damage to my shop and goods. I have plans of my own, but you are all friends and loyal customers, and I’m open to suggestions. I’ll take one request from each of you and use them to make this boy’s dreams come true.”

“And put on a show for them.” Bran jerked his head toward the window again.

“That’s my job, making fantasies into reality.” Lazar grinned. “Ladies first. Miss Dré?”

“He’s so pretty, I really would love to dress him up and do his makeup. A makeover! Everyone loves those, like on those shows on TV.”

“You’ll have to do that part,” Lazar said.

“My pleasure. You’ll be gorgeous, princess. Trust me.”

“Can’t wait,” Ben muttered.

“If you can’t dress up during Gay Pride week, when can you?” Miss Dré touched her tiara.

“Max?”

“You know me. Whip.” Max stabbed the air with his unlit cigar, pointing at the biggest, blackest whip on the rack.

The whites of Ben’s eyes showed when he flicked a pleading glance at Lazar.

Lazar shook his head slightly. “That might be a bit much for his first time, Max, but I’ll see what I can do. Bran?”

“Paddle his ass out here where everyone can watch.”

Lazar smiled at the kid. “That shirt is going to come back to bite you in the butt. You look a little pale. You okay?”

“I really don’t want to get spanked where everyone can see.”

“You’re going to get what I give you, boy, and like it. And you’d better start calling me sir.”

“Yes, sir.” The kid hung his head and refused to look at the crowd outside the window.

“I love the smell of obedience in the evening. Otto?”

“He’s got lovely nipples. How about some clamps? Or you could pierce him!”

Ben’s head snapped up, and he stared at Lazar.

Lazar shook his head again, even though he couldn’t suppress a grin. “Whoa, slow down, professor. No body mods the first time out.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. He’s such a natural, I forgot.”

The gasp of relief from the kid tickled Lazar. “Change your mind, Bran?”

The big man shrugged. “He came in after a plug. Be a shame for him to come all this way and go away empty.”

“Good point. Well, boy, you heard them. Anything to say?”

“Yellow?”

Lazar burst out laughing. “You’re going to enjoy this, Ben. I give you my word as a Dom and a gentleman. There will be times where you won’t be so sure, but I promise by the end of the night, you’ll be another satisfied customer of The Cage.”

“Can I dress him up now?” Miss Dré took Ben’s arm.

“First we’ll get him naked.”

“Out here?” Ben’s voice squeaked again, and the flush spread over the creamy skin of his chest and his face. “Where everyone can see?”

“Don’t worry, boy, we won’t be bored.” Lazar lifted a single-tailed whip from the display. He showed it to Max. “As requested.”

Max nodded and smiled grimly.

“Otto, unhook the boy’s wrists, and you and Max each take one. Stand away from him out to the sides and don’t let him wiggle. I don’t want to stripe you by mistake.”

“He’s shaking like an aspen leaf, Laz.” Otto released the D-ring. He grabbed one wrist and pulled Ben’s arm out to the side.

Ben tried to jerk his arms free and make a break for it, but Bran moved in front of the door and casually propped himself against it.

Before Ben could take another step, Max clamped on to his other wrist and held him firmly. “You don’t want to wiggle around, boy. Lazar’s an expert with a whip, but if you move, you’ll spoil his aim and maybe get hurt.”

“Oh God, oh God,” Ben whimpered. His eyes widened as Lazar limbered up his wrist, making figure eights in the air with the lash.

“Stay as still as you can, boy, and that’s an order,” Lazar instructed.

As Lazar raised his arm, Ben closed his eyes.

Lazar chuckled when Ben clamped his teeth on his lower lip, but he steadied his arm and sent the lash sailing through the air. A perfect hit. The kid’s T-shirt was mostly torn off already so it didn’t take much to rip it free from one arm.

Another crack snapped through the shop, but Lazar took two tries to get the rest of the shirt off.

“Losing your touch, Laz.” Max wiggled the cigar between his teeth.

Lazar bit back the retort that he didn’t want to hurt the kid. No point informing Ben of that up front, it would ruin the suspense for him.

Ben squinted his eyes open and looked down at himself. His flesh was unmarked but his shirt was in rags on the floor. He gaped at Lazar.

Lazar hoped the kid would be curious enough to watch the rest because it really was a technical display of skill, if he did say so himself. He flicked the whip toward the kid and caught the baggy jeans on one thigh.

The kid looked at Lazar with new respect in his eyes but still flinched every time the whip darted toward him like a hungry tongue.

After ten minutes Ben’s jeans were in shreds, hanging from the waistband and exposing his cotton boxers. Lazar curled the lash around the handle, replaced the whip in its holder, and came toward him. Lazar grabbed the waistband of the jeans and slowly ripped through it, letting the jeans fall around Ben’s ankles.

“Holy fuck, sir!” the kid gasped, his eyes wide.

Just how Lazar felt. Peeling this kid was like a treasure hunt. Who would have suspected such a lovely specimen lurked under the baggy clothes? Lazar growled possessively but quelled it. No need to let Ben know what a turn-on he was just yet.

The kid’s boxers were half-tented in front of him. Through his shorts, Lazar flipped Ben’s penis up and let it bob.

The kid blushed again and backed his hips away.

“I think you like this.”

“I’m only doing this because I broke your fucking lamp,” Ben said. “Sir,” he added quickly when Lazar glared at him.