Loser Takes All(3)

Tad grunted, impressed. The area was pretty damn inspiring. He already worked out a couple days a week, but this set up made him want to go at it non-stop.

His gaze drifted warily to the left, to the other half of the room he'd deliberately been ignoring. Because while Scott's gym was nice and unassuming, its counterpart's "theme" was considerably more …  questionable. Not that Tad should be surprised. He had been taken there for a fucking flogging.

"Damn … " he muttered. But it wasn't an awe-struck or curious "damn." It was a dread-filled "oh, shit" one.

Scott chuckled, seeming to get it, and ambled deeper inside. "This place is a great escape, Tad. An alternate tension reliever." He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "It's also a guilty pleasure."

Tugging his tee shirt over his head, he tossed it onto a nearby leather sofa and sauntered further back to the left. Tad frowned. Why the fuck did he take off his shirt? Whatever the reason, Tad took the opportunity to scrutinize the guy again. Not even ten years Tad's senior, the dude was built like a champ. Tad eyed his broad back. With each step Scott took, tanned muscles rippled down its length. And as his arms swung languidly to and fro, his thick shoulders bunched in time. The guy clearly spent some serious time pushing weights.

Tad cleared his throat just as Scott stopped at a tall, bulky chest. "So, you an aspiring body builder or some shit?"

Scott laughed, his voice sounding deeper than before. "No. But thanks for the compliment."

Tad scowled. "Just an observation, dude."

"Mm." Scott pulled open a drawer and started to rummage. "My roommate and I take clients down here. He's the full-time Dom, though. I just like to doddle in the stuff, but cover appointments for him when unexpected stuff comes up. Mainly, I'm a personal trainer. But I also teach kickboxing and weight-training at the local fitness center."

Sounded normal enough. Tad eased up some more.

Scott shoved something into his pocket then shut the drawer and headed back over. But now it was his chest in full view. Huge pectorals and an insane eight-pack moved in time with his hips. Trim hips that lent way to powerful thighs. Envy churned low in Tad's belly. Or at least that's what he assumed the sensation was.

Scott stopped in front of him. "You want a tour?" Again he flashed that killer grin. "And I don't mean of the gym."

Tad blinked, his cheeks growing hot. He was there to be degraded by a stranger. Why would he want a tour beforehand? Shifting on his feet, he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Ah, no. That's okay."

"You sure? There's some pretty interesting stuff to see." Scott's words were laced with teasing.

Tad forced back a chuckle. "Nah, I'm good." Though to be honest, a part of him was kind of curious. His gaze shifted of its own accord to the nearest, sketchy-looking contraption. The thing reminded him of a medieval pillory that held one's head and wrists immobile-leaving the rest of their bent-over body vulnerable. He grimaced and diverted his eyes, only to have them land on a giant wooden X, furnished with two sets of shackles. A padded bench garnered his attention next, followed by a waist-high …  cage? Holy hell.



       
         
       
        

Cracking his neck anxiously, he glanced away …  to what looked like an exam table housing-surprise, surprise-foot stirrups and corner cuffs. And what on earth was that big, horizontal plank, suspended in the air by cables? Ugh. He didn't want to know.

Hung from black cinderblock walls were countless dubious tools he couldn't even begin to fathom the purpose of. Still, he searched for the dreaded flogger; one infamous handle with a ton of long, leather strips. There, by a bunch of other whip-looking thingies. He really needed to brush up on his torture device know-how. As he eyed its many tassels, his body tensed back up. How bad would it hurt? How long would he have to endure it? But more importantly, could he endure it? If he didn't follow through on his end of the bargain, he'd have a fractured face to look forward to.

He winced, shaking himself from his thoughts, only to find Scott curiously eyeing him. As if the guy was wondering if he'd changed his mind about the tour. "Seriously. I'll pass."

Scott's beefy shoulders shrugged. "Suit yourself." He pointed to yet another door. "We'll be going in there." He headed inside and flicked on another light. Tad lingered in the threshold. A huge center structure took up nearly half the room. He had no idea what it was, so he continued his perusal over to an entire wall of dark tinted glass, like those two-way mirrors in interrogation rooms. He frowned. That couldn't be good. He glanced around the rest of the space, no bigger than a large bedroom. The other walls were a pleasant beige, with trim and minimal décor. A chocolate-crimson love seat sat opposite the glass wall, a stereo system off to the left-which Scott proceeded to bump on to a nice low volume. Three Doors Down. "Need my tunes," he drawled. Rock droned softly from flush-mounted speakers.