Hollister wasn’t a novice when it came to the sexual appetites of people. Instead of being afraid that someone was being held against their will and being beaten, his mind went straight to a scene from some BDSM porn he’d watched with some friends one time. Not his thing.
Never would be his thing…didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy watching it, though. Ambrose was hot. Very hot—in a rich, older, arrogant sort of way. Hollister would have some fun driving him crazy.
The door wasn’t locked, so he quietly opened it and crept down the stone stairs. Well…his BDSM dungeon was impressive, to say the least. With a quick glance from the corner Hollister was hiding in, it looked like Ambrose’s middle name needed to be Kink. Ahhhh, the prize. Ambrose, wearing tight leather pants, heavy black biker boots, and some sort of harness thing across his chest, was whipping a naked man tied to a St. Andrew’s Cross. Whipping him hard. The grunts came from Ambrose. The whimpers came from his slave. Hollister would worry, but between the whimpers, the man begged for more.
Suddenly, the whipping stopped. Ambrose, coated in sweat, turned and looked directly at Hollister. Frowned. “Claudius, it looks like we have a visitor. Would you like me to request that he leave or are you in the mood for an audience?”
“I would love an audience, Master,” the man answered weakly, but there was a look of pride and excitement of his tear-stained face.
God, people were weird, Hollister thought to himself.
As soon as Hollister had laid eyes on Ambrose, he’d thought the man might make him a nice little Daddy to keep around. Now? Not so much. Slowly, he stepped out of his corner into the light. The cross was set up where he could walk around it and see every movement. The sound of the whip started again. Ambrose seemed to forget he was there and completely focused on his slave—giving Hollister plenty of time to study and observe…Ambrose. The slave meant nothing to him. Ambrose, on the other hand, was an interesting creature, and the man grew more and more interesting as the whipping continued. Ambrose’s eyes were dark, almost black. When they’d met outside, they were a dark blue. His lips, outside, had been beautifully shaped; now, they were snarled with anger. His black hair, which had to be as soft as silk, was matted to his head due to the sweat. He was still sexy as hell, but the look…his movements…they weren’t Ambrose. Sure, they just met but Hollister hadn’t survived on the streets, with his brothers, without being smart and learning to read people. Ambrose had layers, and Hollister wanted to peel back every damn one of them until he could meet the real man.
Peeling…that would be fun. He’d drive the man insane!
Just as suddenly as before, the whipping stopped. Ambrose dropped his weapon to the floor and made quick work of untying Claudius. The man, clearly weak from the beating, stumbled. Ambrose caught him and helped him into a standing position, but the look on his face said he wasn’t impressed with his slave’s display of weakness.
Asshole.
“You know where the showers are and the back exit. My driver will take you home. Call when you need serviced again.” Ambrose looked at Hollister, and added, “I do apologize for the intrusion. The boy clearly has no manners. He’ll probably end up over my knee before his visit ends.”
“Thank you, Master,” Claudius answered and slowly crept from the room. When he passed Hollister, he growled, marking his territory, Hollister supposed. Maybe it was some weird Master/slave thing Hollister didn’t know about. He knew one thing, though…Ambrose was a bad Master. He’d treated Claudius like a piece of meat, nothing more. While he wasn’t the expert, he knew better than that just from watching porn.
When Claudius closed the door behind him, Ambrose said, in a deadly voice, “That was very rude, my little Bunny. You shouldn’t spy on people, and you should never spy on a BDSM scene you weren’t invited to.”
Hollister placed his hands on his hips. Oh, he was going to enjoy this ever so much! “You call that a BDSM scene?” Hollister scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? You were a total ass to your slave. Ever heard of the word aftercare? Look it up; you suck at it.”
“I’m a Sadist, Bunny. My only interest is inflicting pain, not worrying about someone’s feelings afterwards. Claudius is aware of that, and he keeps coming back. Again, and again. And again.”
Hollister watched the rivets of sweat roll down Ambrose’s lean muscles. He wanted to follow the path with the tip of his tongue. “Poor fella; he must be desperate to kneel for a Master…any Master from the looks of it.”
Ambrose tossed back his head and laughed out loud. “Just what, Bunny, do you think you know about BDSM?”