The Cadre

THE CADRE A TALE OF REDEMPTION BJ COX CONTENTS The Cadre Untitled Prologue Chapter 1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.7 1.8 1.9 1.10 1.11 1.12 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 9.2 9.3 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 18.2 18.3 Chapter 19 19.2 20. The End About BJ Cox Also by BJ Cox THE CADRE BJ Cox The Cadre First published 2016 by Beaten Track Publishing Copyright © 2016 Caraway Carter Original Title: 7 With 1 Blow Published 2023 by Never Too Late Books All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher. The moral right of the author has been asserted. Created with Vellum When Taylor Little, who styles himself “Dom Seven,” is unwillingly taken into custody by the Cadre, he is put between a rock and a hard place. Either he will go to jail for his abuses against the local BDSM community, or he will accept retraining from the bottom up, learning to be a slave before he ever lays a flogger on another human being again. In this tale of redemption, Taylor must face his demons as he learns to accept his status with mouth, mind, and heart. * * * WARNING: This story contains scenes of sexual intimacy and BDSM. TRIGGER WARNING: The first chapter contains non-con. This novel is a work of fiction and the characters and events in it exist only in its pages and in the author’s imagination. To my Husbear, Adam. To the Morticia Knight who answered every question with a funny story and gave me the encouragement to look at my stories with different eyes. PROLOGUE A munch was in progress at the Hens and Heifers off Route 90 in the city. The gathering had been in full swing; nearly everyone who had RSVP’d arrived on time. Dominants sat with their submissives, single people sat around tables together, but there was a crackle of nervousness jumping from group to group as they talked, ordered beers, and nibbled on peanuts shelled to the concrete floor below them with not-quite-steady hands. All of them were regulars; there were no newcomers to run off and tell tales once the deed was done. Not that many would know it was a deed being done, anyway, but it was always good to be sure. The Cadre sat at the head table. They chatted as well, but four of them had their eyes on the door. They were waiting for two people, and until those two arrived, the meeting would not be complete. “You’re sure he’ll be here?” a dark-haired older man with a salt-and-pepper beard said as he passed a pitcher of ice water to the whip-thin man on his left. “Oh, he won’t miss it. We talked about his favorite ways of hurting his boys, as if I knew nothing about it. You know him. He loves to brag about everything he does to them. I just played fascinated,” the other man said as he poured water for the blond woman next to him. A narrow smile that held no humor creased his equally slim goateed face. His black hair barely covered his skull in a precise boot-camp military cut. “He won’t be able to resist the chance to brag in person. He’ll be here. He’ll never know what hit him.” The man of the evening arrived—late as usual, but no one was surprised. It was just his style. During his few short years in the Scene, Taylor Little had gathered quite a following between customers, hangers-on, flatterers, and the occasional scene partner. It wasn’t the most experienced or the most prestigious crowd in the local Scene—in fact, many of Little’s followers were even less experienced than he was—and people had noticed. Important people, people who could make or break a new Dom. Not that Taylor Little cared. He’d ruined munches, crashed play parties, and generally acted like an arrogant banty rooster in a too-small hen yard. It wasn’t surprising when he would show up at a munch, poach an inexperienced boy, and put him on the web in a BDSM porn shoot a week later; it was just inappropriate. His lateness was also par for the course. Taylor Little—who called himself “Dom Seven”—made his elaborate entrance. Normally, his slaves crawled before him, regardless of the venue or whether it was appropriate. The sharper-tongued members of the Scene whispered that it was because of his height, which, even with his heavy boots, topped out at five foot seven. But this time, his current slave walked in front of him, shirtless, his neck enclosed inside a black leather collar. A chain snaked away from the collar’s single jump ring and into Taylor’s black-gloved hand. In an uncharacteristic nod to propriety, Taylor had had this slave wear dirty white Converse tennis shoes and tight black jeans, with a thick black leather belt. As they entered the room, a scowl crossed Taylor’s face. It were as if no one had paid attention to anything he had done with his slave; the crowd was still looking at Mistress Joan. Taylor and his slave were the only ones not looking at Mistress Joan. Instead, Taylor looked around the room to see if anyone was checking out his new boy while the slave kept his own eyes focused on his shoes. Not a single soul was looking their way. With a frown and a muttered command, Taylor tapped the slave on the shoulder. The boy nodded his head and dropped to his knees as Taylor