Page 90 of The Dom with the Kink Monsters

“Thank you, Sir,” he lied. He slid the belt through his fingers again then moved to one side, his hard-on bobbing and making him hope he didn’t catch it with a backswing. Delivering a beating while not wearing pants was living dangerously.

Sir moved up in front of Saya. “Watch my eyes, slave girl. Enjoy this pain because taking your punishment is cleaning the slate.” He pinched her nipples between his fingers and she moaned and leaned into him.

“Yes, Master. It pleases me to please you.”

The next four Mack did fast, moving around to make sure he didn’t hit the same spot twice. Snapping of leather on skin, Saya’s shrieks, the sheen of sweat on her body,her helplessness in the face of his evil – the most masochistic act was making himself stop. He ached for more. The red stripes on her bottom were hot, but he didn’t touch. Sir was in control of this, of him. Being his enforcer was arousing and frustrating. The girl hadn’t safeworded and he yearned to beat her more, until she was screaming and begging him to stop.

Sir untied the girls from the ring, but left their cuffs on. He held them for a moment, then gave them a shove toward the bed and told them to cuddle like good girls. Mack stood in the center of the room, watching, not sure where Sir wanted him. A moment later, Ramsay grabbed Mack by the back of the neck and pushed him along to where the leather dangled from the ring.

It was short work to bind Mack’s wrists together and tie them just above his head.

“Look at this. Trussed up like a sacrifice. Would you like me to use the knives on you, bitchboy? You love using them on Winter; would you love them so much if you were the one being cut?”

Instincts warred. He didn’t like pain like Winter did, he just bore it sometimes to amuse Sir, but any attention from him was good attention. His cock strained, begging for action, but he flinched at the idea of the pain and Sir playing with knives without any experience. Although it wasn’t as though he’d had experience when he and Winter started using them.

“Sir, if you choose to hurt me, I’ll accept it gratefully.”

“But you don’t like pain.”

“I like you, Sir.” His cheeks burned. There was so much more that he wouldn’t say, things Ramsay wasn’t ready to hear. “I’m at your disposal.”

“You...like me?” Sir’s brow quirked, his eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement.

“Yes, Sir.” It hurt, knowing he was a joke to the Dom to whom he’d succumbed. To the man who owned him and didn’t really want to own him.

He snorted. “Your cock likes me, or your asshole does?”

Part of his heart crumpled. Why did he bother? Either he accepted that he’d never be more than a fucktoy to Ramsay, or he needed to reset things and go back to just being bandmates. Used or nothing – those were his choices. His throat constricted and he tried to swallow past it, but the pain was deeper down, where he couldn’t fix it.

Sir cradled the back of his head and he moved close and kissed him. Ramsay’s lips were demanding, but not cruel, and Mack opened his mouth obediently, even thoughhe wasn’t sure it was what he wanted anymore. When Ramsay broke the kiss, part of Mack’s soul went with him.

“Mack, you don’t look happy.” Sir was close still, his face too near to be mistaken for platonic concern.

He stared back at him, not sure what to say. The struggle in him was intense, but caution wasn’t getting him anywhere. Fine. He’d try honesty.

Mack drew a long breath. “I love you, Sir. Sometimes I hate you for not caring that I do.” He stopped when his voice faltered, but gathered calm around him like a cloak and went on. “I know I’m just a toy to you. I don’t expect you to care about me the same way you care about the girls, but I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt when you act like this is just about sex for me.”

Ramsay grimaced and shuffled a booted foot. “I thought one of the benefits of being involved with a dude would be not having to deal with your feelings. I guess I was wrong.” He ran his hands over Mack’s chest and goosebumps rose in their wake. He tugged at Mack’s nipple rings. “Are you really in love with me, Mack?”

“Untie me. I don’t want to have this conversation while I’m hanging here like a fucking macramé plant holder.”

Ramsay’s gaze sharpened. “I’m sorry, was this just an insignificant scene for you? Our relationship doesn’t have a on and off switch. It’s sure as hell not about your fucking convenience, bitchboy. If you want to interrupt my plans and have a chat, I’m feeling generous, so we can do that. I’m not finished with you, so you’ll stay tied there until I let you down or you safeword like a whiny bitch.” He tagged Mack in the balls with the back of a hand.

Mack hissed, his nuts feeling like they were ready to crawl up inside him and hide.

“Yes, Sir.”

“So what makes you think I don’t care about you?”

Put that bluntly, Mack didn’t know what to say. There was no manfully turning around to busy himself with other things. He was as vulnerable as he could get.

“I don’t know.” To his own ears he sounded sullen, but it was too late to go back and say it in the way Winter would have. The girls were snuggled up on the mattress, but spooning so they could both watch what was going on. Ramsay had trained them well so they weren’t interfering, although Winter looked grim.

“This...thing...between us has been weird for me. I still don’t think I’m bisexual, butI can’t seem to stay away from you.” Ramsay shrugged. “I gave into it and told myself that it was just a random sexual urge, but it’s not. If it was, I’d fuck you and walk away, then forget about you until the next time I wanted you. I wouldn’t miss holding you and talking to you when we’re apart. I wouldn’t feel weird when I catch sight of you across the bar, and I sure as hell wouldn’t get jealous when other men talk to you.”

Mack’s heart stuttered. Jealous? When he talked to other men? “When did that happen?”

Ramsay raked his fingers through his long blond hair. “Whenever you talk to any guy, really. When we’re at Cross’s shop, though, I often want to beat the crap out of someone.”

---