Dungeon Building by Melinda Barron Page A

forgotten he was there. “I have a few with tassels on the end, sort of like long cats. Would you like to see those too? Of course, one of those will cost you. The one you just used is gratis, as I said.”
    “Thank you, I’ll happily take it, and I’d like to see the others too.” She wondered if she would be able to beg for more if they were alone. She hoped so.
    Logan struck her ass fifteen more times. The pain soaked into her skin, and was almost too much for her. She was out of practice.
    “Inky!” Logan’s harsh tone made her jump.
    “Sir?” She jumped a little, her stomach pressing against the wood that kept her upright.
    “Stand up and get dressed.”
    “Yes, Sir Logan.”
    “Slut two, help her,” Tucker ordered. The woman worked Evelyn’s jeans over her hips. Evelyn’s ass hurt as the material closed over them.
    Tucker ordered the other woman to the barn. Logan clipped the leash onto Evelyn’s handcuffs.
    “Let’s go examine our new toys,” he said as he yanked on the lead. “I can’t wait to see your expression.”
    * * * *
    “You know the old saying about catching flies if your mouth is open?”
    Evelyn clamped her mouth shut as Logan’s words registered in her brain. She wasn’t sure what she’d thought Tucker did. Well, yes, she did, actually. She’d thought he was a carpenter. But she had no idea he made BDSM toys—or so many of them.
    In fact, she had no idea there was such diversity in toys, period. Everywhere she looked there were cages, ropes, chains, wires, benches, tables, beds, stocks, some sort of disc contraption hanging from the ceiling and…in the far corner of the room, the naked woman referred to as slut one was in a cage so tight, Evelyn wondered how the woman could breathe.
    Logan and Tucker had stopped in front of a bed. She hadn’t really looked at it until she realized Logan was talking to her.
    “Inky, get in.” She jerked her attention back to him and then gazed at the bed. It seemed like an ordinary bed, until she looked more closely. It was a four-poster, with a mattress, but no box spring. In both the headboard and footboard were openings such as were found in stocks used in puritanical times. The base of the bed was a cage. The door was open, and Logan was pointing to it. He expected her to go inside.
    Her breath caught in her throat. She looked up at Logan. She must have looked totally terrified, because he said to Tucker, “May I have a minute?”
    “Of course.” Tucker walked toward the woman in the cage.
    “Can’t,” Evelyn stammered. “I can’t be…”
    He stroked her arm. “You’ve known me for years, Inky. Sure, we’re taking it fast, but you have to know that I would never do anything to hurt you. We’ve had this discussion. You have to trust me.”
    Her heart was beating so hard she feared she might have a heart attack. “Please, Logan, no.”
    “Inky,” he said. “I’m not sure what’s going on inside your head, but right now, I want you to get in the cage. I won’t shut the door, not today, but you have to do this for me. Either that, or say your safe word and we leave.”
    She tried to get hold of herself. It was just a cage, she told herself, just a few bars that wouldn’t even be closed. She was a big girl. She’d done hundreds of things that pushed the envelope in her life. In the search for perfect feature stories she’d jumped out of airplanes, rushed into a burning building during fire training school, learned to shoot a gun, done ride-alongs with the police in Denver and Clearwater, and even let a magician saw her in half.
    “Why are you standing here?”
    “I’m sorry, Sir Logan,” she whispered. “I’ll behave.”
    “Then get in.”
    Evelyn put her bound hands on the footboard of the bed and lowered herself to her knees. As she did, her gaze centered with the hole where her head would go at some point while he had her restrained in the device.
    Her stomach did a few more flips, and then she was down, looking