Logan nodded.

“I’m going to flog Dixon with Lindsey in the cage. It’s her first time there and being restrained with stakes. Could use some eyes on her while I’m occupied.”

“You’re splitting your attention?” Logan studied the two submissives and the area. The birdcage was within a few feet of the dangling chains. “I’ll have Simon monitor the rest of the room so I can stick close.”

“Appreciate it.”

Problem solved.

He glanced at Lindsey, pleased to see the tenseness of her body. For the time she’d be watching, the stakes would serve as a constant reminder she was still under his control. Would give her small amounts of pain—which he’d enjoy—especially once he upped the stimulus for her to move.

He joined Dixon. “Now you, boy.” Fisting the bottom’s pretty blond hair, deVries yanked him to his feet. The boy gave a tantalizing yelp. “Arms up.”

After lowering the chains secured to the rafter beams, deVries used panic snaps to secure Dixon’s wrist cuffs to the chains. He considered adding a spreader-bar for his legs, but…nah, he was in the mood to watch some dancing feet. This setup looked good.

He stepped back and assessed Dixon. Too cocky.

Fuck that shit. DeVries blindfolded the boy’s eyes.

Dixon’s muscles tensed, but he took a calming breath and relaxed.

Good control, deVries thought…and waited.

As nothing happened and the seconds ticked by, Dixon started to tense up again.

Much better. How far could he wind the submissive up? DeVries leaned forward and growled in his ear, “Got all of your body to use for my target, boy. Best you hope I don’t flog those fat balls of yours to ribbons.”

Swallowing, Dixon edged his legs together, hiding his vulnerable parts; yet, as if dissociated from fear, his dick strained upward.

Very nice. This boy wasn’t the type of masochist who found any and all pain enjoyable. No, Dixon felt actual pain at first and had to endure the discomfort to reach his goal of subspace. Was a hell of a lot of fun to push this kind of masochist up the brutally painful slope to pleasure. “Your safeword still the same, boy?”

“Frank-N-Furter.”

“Might be amusing to hear you squeal that.” DeVries ran his hands down the leanly muscled arms, over narrow shoulders, down his back. Sensitizing his skin. “Party safeword is red. Use one or the other if you need it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

DeVries stepped over to the birdcage. Lindsey hadn’t moved. None of the stakes were digging into her skin too far. He studied her face. Her head was right here with him, nothing else on her mind. Perfect. Fitting his arm through the bars, he laid his palm along Lindsey’s cheek. “All right?”

Her eyes were the melting chocolate color of the fudge she’d made. Fucking sweet. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He jerked his chin at Logan, who was leaning against a stone pillar, gaze on them. “I get that you’re not one to want to interrupt a scene, so Logan is there if you need him. He’ll stay till I’m with you.”

The relaxation of the muscles in her neck and around her mouth told him she’d worried. “Thank you, Zander.”

Good. On second thought, damned if he wanted her too relaxed. He ran his knuckles over her firm little breasts and rolled her nipples between his fingers, increasing the pressure until she started making pleasing squeaks and squirming uncontrollably. Her movements pushed her into the stakes, reminding her of their presence. Reminding her she was trapped for his pleasure.

He could actually see her grow wetter. Fuck, he loved the way she responded.

Nonetheless, her turn was over. “Hang tight, babe. Next time I’ll pick on that pretty pussy of yours.”

Her instinctive movement drove her knees into the stakes, and the luscious helpless sound she made kicked up his own hunger. Oh yeah. He wanted more of that.

As he returned to Dixon, the fire of need simmered under his skin. “I got an itch to hear you yell, boy,” he said. “First I’ll give you a bit of a warm-up so I can draw this out until you’re sweating.” He started in.

The sound of the flogger striking skin—no matter how lightly—increased his pulse and steadied his focus. Pinken that patch of skin. Avoid there. Make the sides match. Study the results.

Dixon’s muscles were relaxed, breathing steady.

Gradually, deVries found a good rhythm. He snorted, realizing Dixon’s ass was swaying to Combichrist’s “Get Your Body Beat.”

After a while, he moved to a heavier flogger. Added some caning for variety.

“Brace yourself, boy,” he said. And he finished—for the moment—with three much harder throws with no break between.

The sheer force rocked Dixon forward each time. Hands fisted, neck bowed, Dixon breathed through the pain. His forehead and shoulders were damp with sweat, but the change in his expression, the glow, said he was moving into subspace. Nice. Very nice.

“Don’t move now, boy. You stay still.”

Dixon received the instructions with a submissive shiver.

While the boy finished processing the pain, deVries went over to the birdcage. “Pretty little canary. Gonna listen to you sing next.”

Lindsey’s gaze was fixed on him like a bird watching a cat approach. While he’d flogged Dixon, her breathing had increased, her cheeks had flushed. She was getting nice and toasty with excitement.

“How are you doing, babe? Can you last longer?”

Her chin came up. “I’m fine, Sir.”

Well, hell, a submissive shouldn’t say that to a sadist. Might as well shout nah-nah, ni-nah-nah, right? “Good to know.”

He didn’t intend to draw out Dixon’s scene—he had other plans for the boy in mind—so he might as well fuck Lindsey’s head up a bit now. He pinched her pretty nipples back to a dark red and stopped before she got too squirmy. “You’re going to need to remember to stay still.”

“Sure. Sir.”

“Good for you.” He smiled into her eyes and saw worry appear. She knew him well.

His favorite wand was in his toy bag. He added the nubby attachment. Plugged into the wall, the device fit through the space under the birdcage door. He clamped the wand in position so it barely…barely vibrated the thong covering Lindsey’s pussy.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t get bored, baby.”

Her hands fisted as the vibrations registered. She was already aroused, and it took only a few seconds before she wanted more. Her hips tried to move forward…and were stopped by the stakes. When she persisted despite the undoubted discomfort, he tsk-tsked and withdrew the vibrator far enough so she couldn’t quite touch it. So she wouldn’t be able to get off.

Her glare made him laugh.

As he returned to Dixon, he could hear the hum of the wand and her low moan. Nice.

He grabbed Dixon’s hair and yanked his head back. “You sleeping there?”

The boy gasped. “No, Sir!”

“Good. Maybe you need some noise to keep you lively.” He’d brought one of his single-tails—a medium-length one. Stepping back, he picked it up and gave it a quick snap.

As the crack echoed in the room, Dixon straightened so quickly his spine almost shattered.

“Got a problem with whips, boy?” Nothing had been on his limits list at Dark Haven.

“No, Sir.” When deVries didn’t respond, Dixon swallowed and added, “They make me…nervous.”

“Shows you’re not stupid.” The harsh sting would center the bottom’s attention after the small break and steer him into the mind space where he needed to be. Afterward a hard flogging should take him up and over.

He flicked the tail over the young man’s ass, his shoulders, down to his ass, and grinned when the bottom’s feet started moving, his ass twisting, trying to avoid the startling burn.

“Good luck with that.” He settled into an even rhythm, knowing it was counterbalanced by the erratic nature of the stinging impacts.

As the whipping continued, Dixon’s shoulders relaxed, his hands opened. Heading into subspace.

DeVries checked Lindsey. Her face was flushed. The wand had done the job, and her muscles were taut with the need to get off. She was sweating, her face showing she’d reached her limit of frustration.

He met Logan’s eyes, looked at Lindsey, and made a cutting motion. Pull the plug.

Logan nodded.

DeVries walked forward, grasped Dixon’s chin, and lifted. “You holding up, boy?”

The simple touch and question made Dixon’s mouth curve up sluggishly. Oh yeah, he was nicely into la-la land. “Sir,” he breathed. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy.” As deVries returned to his work, he heard the hum of the wand die and the whine of Lindsey’s response.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Dixon’s back displayed a gratifying pattern of thin red lines. No blood.

Time for the flogger. A medium weight, deVries decided, with enough sting to remind the boy of the whip, enough weight to be thuddy, not so heavy as to break open the stripes.

Smiling, he moved into a nice figure-eight pattern, melding in the music, his heartbeat, Dixon’s swaying with the slap, slap, slap of the flogger. He was sweating, enjoying the weight, the sounds of the blows, the sucking of air as the bottom processed each blow. Nothing felt like swinging a flogger.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Stanfeld. Right on time as agreed.

DeVries flicked the strands, pulling back enough that only the tips struck Dixon, giving him a new sensation.

Stanfeld seemed like a decent guy. Honorable. Honest. And Simon considered him a damn good Dom. Xavier and Simon had been concerned about the crappy Doms Dixon kept choosing. Tonight, deVries figured on handing the boy over to someone who was all Dom.