Loser Takes All(4)

Tad almost smiled. He liked music, too-even this particular band-but under normal circumstances. He shifted nervously, but still didn't enter.

Scott chuckled, curling fingers around Tad's tense upper arm. "Such a shy one," he murmured, tugging him inside. "You're gonna be a blast."

Tad didn't like the sound of that. In fact, he wanted to dig in his heels and stay put. But instead he ambled grudgingly along, probably because of the smug bastard's remark.

"I'm not shy," he grumbled. "Just exceptionally unenthused." His eyes locked back on to that big, bizarre center piece; what looked like a nine-foot-tall, stand-alone headboard. "What the fuck is that?" he muttered, almost afraid to ask. He glowered around some more. "And what the fuck is this room?"

Scott shut the door behind him. "This is the observation-slash-demonstration room." 

Oh God, Tad thought, going ramrod stiff. Just as he'd suspected. All blood promptly drained from his head.

Scott laughed, clearly reading his thoughts. "Don't worry. Nobody's watching."

Tad exhaled in relief. "Thank fuck. But wait, so why are we in here, then?"

Scott motioned to that strange looming structure. "'Cause tonight that's going to be your whipping post."

Tad's eyes shot back the headboard-minus-a-bed monstrosity. Gulp. "Oh."

"Time to lose the clothes, shy boy."

Every muscle in Tad's body wrenched tight. "Come again?"

Scott's eyes glittered. "And again. And again."

Tad scowled. "What?"

Scott grinned then crossed his arms. "You can't be dressed for a proper flogging, Tad." His voice sounded suspiciously husky.

"But-"

He held up his hand. "This isn't up for debate. It's what your boys specifically requested."

Anger surged in Tad's already churning gut. "No one said anything to me about getting naked. So, your boys can take their "requests" and shove 'em up their-"

Scott barked out a laugh and thumb-pointed over his shoulder. "Hey man, there's the door. I won't stop you from leaving. Go settle up with your buddies some other way. Hell, they're probably still outside."

Tad stiffened. He knew what "some other way" would mean to those dicks. "Goddamn it," he cursed, turning to re-eye that ominous structure of doom. His fists clenched anxiously open and shut.

Scott snorted. "Seriously? People pay to have done to them what I'm about to do to you."

Tad stilled. " …  Really?"

Scott nodded. "Oh, yeah." He motioned to the glass wall. "And others pay to watch."

Tad tried not to cringe. "So that's what that's for. Rapt audiences."

A broad-shouldered shrug. "Among other things." Before Tad could ask, Scott pointed again to his whipping post. "Now unless you want to bail-and if you do, get to it and stop wasting my time-strip down and face that beaut."

Tad could feel his jaw ticking, even as his cheeks reheated. "Fine," he snarled, stomping over to the thing. With his back to Scott, he shucked off everything but his boxers, then glared at the obstacle looming in front of him. Half a foot thick, the monster headboard was comprised of six horizontal panels upholstered in taut, black leather. Each roughly one and a half feet high and six feet wide, they collectively made up a good nine feet of unadulterated anxiety. "What the hell is this thing, anyway?"

"My roommate and I have lovingly coined it The Wall of Confliction."

Tad quirked a brow. "You seriously call it that?"

Scott's tone turned wry. "We most certainly do."

"Why the fuck for?"

"Mm. That'd spoil the surprise."

"Whatever." Tad scowled, still not facing the guy. But the sound of feet padding closer had his blood pressure climbing fast. Not that his heart wasn't already pounding.

"Boxers, too, Tad," Scott murmured in his ear. "I'm to give you the full-body treatment."

Tad groaned. Even his ass was going to get whipped? Those rat bastard pricks. Cursing under his breath, he ditched the last of his clothes. "There. Happy?"

A low, dark chuckle. "Oh, shy boy, you have no idea."

"Stop calling me that."

"Stop playing the part."

Tad bristled, but then stiffened as Scott took his wrist and lifted it up to a buckle restraint attached to a black, resin-coated chain. It must've been tucked up in the wall's upper right corner. Swiftly, Scott secured it into place.



       
         
       
        

Tad struggled not to freak out. "Is this really necessary? I agreed not to leave."