Power/Play by Catlover2x [Reviews - 10]
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Greg seemed in no way chastened by Nick’s homily when they arrived at the elegant mansion that housed Lady Heather’s business. The muted sounds of screams and groans didn’t seem to deter him either, although Nick shivered when he heard them. They waited for Lady Heather in the front hallway.

“Wow, you never told me this place was so cool,” Greg said, looking at the ornate windows and crown moulding.

“You think this place is beautiful? It gives me the creeps,” Nick replied.

“You mean you don’t want me to tie you up and spank you?” Greg teased.

Nick was mercifully spared having to answer by the arrival of a servant who escorted them to a large room. Lady Heather sat at the far end. Nick was relieved to see nothing more threatening in front of her than a coffee service and tray of pastries.

Lady Heather smiled gently. “Even the kinkiest of us need to eat and drink, Mr. Stokes. Have a seat.”

Nick had to admire Greg; he was so completely himself in spite of the surroundings. His eyes roamed the walls, taking in the whips, paddles and canes without any indication that he was weirded out by it. There were things about Greg, Nick decided, that he didn’t really want to know.

After Lady Heather poured them each a cup of coffee, she asked, “What do you suppose is the basis of a successful Dom/sub relationship?”

Nick shook his head but Greg answered promptly, “Exchange of power.”

“Very good, Mr. Sanders. And who is in charge?”

“The Dom,” Nick said. He wasn’t going to let Greg get in ahead of him.

Lady Heather looked at Greg, who said, “It depends on the negotiations, who wants what. The sub sets the limits and has a safe word, the Dom is responsible for taking him where he wants to go.”

“Correct, unless it’s a Master/slave relationship. If a slave has sold himself, the Master may do anything he wishes and the slave has no recourse.”

Nick was very pale. “People actually do that?”

“Yes, but that isn’t the case here.” Lady Heather looked at him kindly. “Perhaps I’m giving you too much detail. You two are going to pose as a Dom/sub couple who’ve recently moved here. You have no contacts although, of course, you have heard of me.”

“Of course,” Greg nodded.

Nick was out of his depth. “So I order Greg around and he has to do what I say?”

“Do you feel that the Dom/sub relationship is unequal, Mr. Stokes.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, if he’s on a leash, how’s it going to be equal?”

Lady Heather met Greg’s eyes and saw understanding there. “Would you like to explain it, Greg?”

“It’s like a gift, see? If I’m the sub, I offer you my submission as a gift. The gift you offer me is domination or pain, if that’s what I’m after. It’s an equal trade.”

“In the healthiest of situations,” Lady Heather added.

“It’s fucked,” Nick muttered.

“You think of the sub as weak?”

“Yeah, who would ask someone to whip them, for God’s sake?”

Lady Heather sighed. “It takes a tough person to give someone control over them, to know themselves well enough to know what they want and to be able to ask for it. A person who is at peace with himself. Only the strongest are able to submit. And it’s a relationship that can only happen where there is a lot of trust.”

Nick glanced up to see Greg looking at him hopefully. “And that’s why you chose us…”

“For you to be able to handle this assignment, you both need someone you trust. If they’d found a pair of police officers who were partners, I might have been able to work with them, but this is much better. No one will doubt your bond.”

Nick’s eyes dropped before Lady Heather’s gaze. He had the feeling she knew they were more than just friends and he didn’t want to go there. He looked over at Greg and smiled. “I trust Greg with my life,” he said simply.

Lady Heather snapped her fingers and pointed at a spot near her feet. Greg clunked to his knees clumsily and looked down. “At least you’re willing,” she sighed.

Nick was appalled, he couldn’t believe his boyfriend, his, was on his knees at this woman’s feet. Sure, Greg had been on his knees many times in front of Nick, but having someone else there made it… weird.

Lady Heather said, “Kneel up,” and Greg lifted his butt off his feet. She bent to fasten a collar on his throat. “You’ll be wearing that, so you’d better get used to it. And you!” Her voice sharpened and Nick looked at her. “Get over it! This is only a job. Just another undercover masquerade.”

She rang a small bell and presently a young woman with a collar around her neck came in. She was dressed in ordinary clothing and looked pleasant.

“This is the young man I told you about. Please work on his kneeling, he clunks down like a bag of wet sand. Try to instill some grace in him,” Lady Heather ordered. She clipped a leash to Greg’s collar and handed it to the girl.

“Mr. Sanders, wipe that smirk off your face! This disguise is designed to save your life, not amuse you,” Lady Heather ordered and Greg responded immediately, following the girl docilely.

The commanding woman turned to Nick and sighed. “Mr. Stokes. Don’t fight me every inch of the way. Can’t you tell the difference between real life and playing a role?”

“It’s just…”

“Nick, if I were training you seriously, this would take far longer and I would wait for you to discover for yourself just what it is that’s bothering you. But we don’t have the luxury of time. You don’t want to look into yourself and discover that you like any of this. And I assure you,” she said, holding up her hand to forestall him, “You will enjoy some of this. Your… friend seems to be a natural. You won’t have to worry about him.”

“You think he’s submissive?” Nick’s question was almost a screech.

“He’s a switch,” Lady Heather said confidently. “He would actually make a very good Dom. But you’ll find that we all have a submissive side as well as a dominant side. Yes, even you, although you don’t want to face it.”

“Who would ask to get their ass beat?” Nick muttered.

“Come with me,” Lady Heather commanded.

Nick followed her with a sinking feeling and when she opened a door to reveal a man tied to a whipping post, with a masked woman paddling him, he almost made a break for it.

Silently Lady Heather led him to where he could see the man’s face. It was ecstatic; the man was clearly enjoying himself. He wore a thong, but Nick could see his erection straining at the pouch.

“There’s an art to this. You don’t just pick up a whip and hit someone as hard as you can,” Lady Heather explained patiently. “There are people whose bodies are able to take the pain and convert it to pleasure. They learn to surf the wave of the pain until the endorphins kick in and then they’re flying.”

Nick watched the man’s face. “Is he flying?”

“Nowhere near, Mistress Zenia has barely started. I want you to watch.”

Nick shivered but resigned himself. He didn’t know what made him more uncomfortable, being present at the other man’s session or having to imagine Greg in this role. The Domme picked up a flogger and started on the man’s back.

“Now you’re telling me he likes that?” Nick asked in disbelief.

“Actually you might like that one, it’s soft and it just gives a tingling sensation.” Lady Heather stretched out her hand for the flogger and handed it to Nick. “Try it on yourself.”


“A Dom never uses an implement on another person without knowing exactly what it feels like. They have to be able to control the sensations and deliver the experience the sub wants. Try it on your arm.”

He flipped the suede strands weakly over his bare forearm and looked up in surprise. “It’s soft.” He hit himself a little harder. “Not bad.” He handed the flogger back to the Domme in charge and watched as the man shivered with pleasure.

“You try it,” Lady Heather suggested.

“Me? No way, man!”

She stepped closer and looked up into his eyes. “You’ve done undercover work before. You know you can’t anticipate what might happen. If someone hands you an implement and you don’t know how to use it, you could be thrown out. You could also be shot. You already know someone is killing people. You don’t know who or why. Are you willing to risk Greg’s life because you’re too squeamish to give this man what he clearly wants and needs?”

“For Greg,” he said grimly and took the Domme’s position, flipping the flogger lightly. He was surprised when the man turned around and glared at him. “Too hard?”

“Couldn’t feel a thing,” the man said.

Mistress Zenia laughed.


Nick was completely drained when he followed Lady Heather back to her parlour. He’d used a crop, a whip, a strap and a paddle, been warned about the dangers of wraparound, and he was a sweaty mess with a healthy new respect for Doms. He had no idea it was such hard work and he was very grateful that he worked out.

He’d also gotten to watch Mistress Zenia as she took her client flying. And while Nick was shaky and exhausted, she was fresh as a daisy. She worked to build her client to the peak where he was completely blissed out.

“So, no sex?”

Lady Heather smiled at him. “Some go for the endorphin high, like that man. He likes flying better than an orgasm. Some are sexually aroused by the whipping, some need the emotional catharsis of being broken.”

“Seems like therapy would be cheaper,” Nick murmured.

“But we have better outfits,” Lady Heather chuckled.

He looked up in shock. She was laughing, at him!

“Seriously, some people would rather face physical pain than emotional pain. If they can’t release their feelings any other way, they may end up here.”

“Wow, this is just… so weird.”

There was a discreet knock at the door and Lady Heather raised her voice slightly. “Come.”

The young woman entered, followed closely by Greg, who still wore his collar, his eyes downcast. Lady Heather snapped her fingers and Greg dropped to his knees gracefully at her feet, still looking down submissively.


Greg spread his knees and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Look at me.”

His lashes fluttered as he looked up into Lady Heather’s face.


Greg promptly put his forehead on his hands on the floor in front of him, his ass in the air.


Greg got to his feet with sinuous grace and stood legs apart, arms at his side, hands curled but open, his head still bowed and eyes downcast.


Greg looked up and grinned before he flopped into a chair with his usual boneless grace. Nick was so relieved to have his boyfriend back he almost got up to hug him but caught himself in time, remembering that there were two other people in the room.

“Very well done, Monique,” Lady Heather complimented the woman. “Much faster than I expected. All right, boys, go home. Be here tomorrow at nine.”

Nick groaned as he hauled his tired body up from the chair, while Greg bounced along buoyantly behind him.

“What’s wrong, Nicky?”

“God, every part of me aches,” Nick groaned.

Greg giggled. “Guess you just found out who works harder in this equation.”

“Would you give me a back rub when we get home?”

“Beg,” Greg teased.

“Please, please, pretty please?” Nick pleaded as he drove.

“Well, all right just this once.” Greg grinned. “Hey, I learned how to give a proper massage today, wait’ll you get a load of my new skills.”

“Hmmm, maybe I’ve missed out not having my own slaveboy,” Nick mused.

“Not funny,” Greg yelped in protest.

“Besides, I don’t have to beg, I can just order you to give me a backrub,” Nick pointed out. “You’re the sub.”

“I am so gonna regret this, I can tell already. You’re getting way too many ideas,” Greg groaned.


Greg straddled Nick’s body, shiny with oil in the dim light, and massaged the kinks out of the older man’s shoulders, his fingers digging in, working each knot until it dissolved under the pressure.

“Boy, you’re really tense,” he observed.

“Did I tell you I actually whipped someone today?”

Greg rolled his eyes. “Only five times. A paddle, a crop, a whip and a strap. The guy really liked it and blissed out at the end. You weren’t alone with him, were you?”

“Nope. Mistress Zenia was showing me how to do it. I can’t believe it, I’ve never even used a whip on a horse and I did it to a guy I never even met.”

“So was it weird?”

“What you think? Of course it was weird. But if I ever have to take a whip to your ass I now know not to let it wrap around. Apparently that hurts more than just hitting a flat surface.”

“My ass is not a flat surface. Wow, you’re really tense, baby. I don’t like to see you this way.”

Nick raised up and flipped himself over onto his back, grabbing Greg’s hips to hold him steady. “I know what would relax me,” he leered.

“Yeah? A glass of warm milk?” Greg asked innocently.

Nick thrust his hips up under Greg, making sure his boyfriend could feel his erection. “Such a comedian. No, nor a hot bath or reading a book. I want you.”

Greg shivered at the smouldering hunger in Nick’s eyes. “How do you want me?” He leaned down as Nick pulled him close and kissed him. Greg felt familiar butterflies as their tongues met, sliding over each other gently, gradually building to a passionate deep kiss.

Nick’s hands slid down Greg’s back, tracing the scars, down the line of his spine to cup his buttocks, digging his fingers into the delectable roundness. Greg moaned as he felt strong hands pull his cheeks apart, fingers dipping into the cleft, making him shiver as a finger brushed over his most private part.

One hand left him and he felt Nick roll to reach the drawer of the nightstand. Their lips parted and they stared into each other’s eyes before Greg dipped his head to suck on a nipple. Greg felt Nick arch up under him with a moan as he licked the erect nub of flesh, then gently bit down.

“Fuck, you know me too well,” Nick moaned.

Greg smiled as he licked his way to the other nipple, pinching the other still wet nipple lightly between his fingers. As oily fingers slid in his crease, he pushed his ass back into Nick’s hand, humming as he sucked. A finger entered him and he released the nipple with a gasp at the pleasure and pain of the first penetration. His eyes closed as he gave himself over to the stimulation, dragging his rigid shaft over Nick’s stomach as he moved.

Nick added another finger, twisting them in ever widening circles to stretch the tight muscle, avoiding the prostate to tease Greg.

“Oh, please, please, please, please…” Greg muttered as he rocked back against Nick’s hand.

Finally Nick curled his fingers slightly, searching for the bundle of nerves that made Greg jerk his hips with a cry when he brushed over it.

“Is this good, baby?”

“So good, ohhh, please, please, fuck me, Nicky, fuck me now, please, please, please…”

“Ride me.” Nick ordered. He withdrew his fingers and lifted Greg, holding his cheeks apart. Greg reached behind him, grabbing Nick’s cock and lining it up with his entrance. He consciously relaxed himself and rocked back, impaling himself on the thick shaft. He froze and Nick held him until he could feel the inner muscles relax, opening to let him further inside.

Greg braced his hands on Nick’s chest and slowly lowered himself until he could feel he had taken everything. He felt possessed as he always did with Nick deep inside him. There was just something about feeling the hot masculine length of his lover filling him that made him feel claimed, taken. Owned. It was so satisfying to have Nick’s cock inside him after wanting him for so long that sent jolts of electricity up his spine, turning it to liquid. He felt like quicksilver, malleable, as if his very being reformed around the solid hot shaft moving inside him.

Each time Nick glided past the spot that gave him so much pleasure, Greg arched his back, his mouth open, eyes heavily lidded as he raised himself up and let himself back down, his thighs burning with the strain. Nick watched him with awe; his young lover was beautiful and so artlessly open about expressing his feelings. He could watch forever but he felt his own orgasm building and started thrusting up with savage energy, squeezing Greg’s cheeks in his hands as he lifted him faster.

Nick couldn’t take the slow pace any longer; swiftly he rolled Greg onto his back without losing his seat in the narrow passage. Greg was so flexible Nick was able to press on the backs of his thighs, raising his knees to his chest, practically lying full length on the younger man. He was driving hard now, pounding into his lover, barely aware of the incoherent cries and curses tumbling from the younger man’s mouth. Sweat dripped off his hair, tracing a shining path over the pale skin and still Nick thrust even harder, deeper, trying to lift Greg and take him flying.

Greg writhed and twisted, helpless in the stronger man’s grip, his hand pulling frantically at his own cock. The stimulation from inside spread the heat and his cum burned as it splattered his stomach and chest. Feeling the tight muscles clench around him, Nick’s release rushed over him like the tide, a boiling wash of ecstasy rising through him and spilling inside Greg. As the last of his seed shot into the condom, Nick lowered his head and bit blindly at the smooth chest, feeling somehow he shouldn’t be doing this, but sucking madly, needing to leave his mark on his lover’s body.

He gasped for air as he collapsed over the pliant body, inert beneath him. Greg’s legs slipped from his hands and he could feel the slender man heaving for breath.

“Wow, where did that come from?” Greg asked weakly.

“Who knows, just be happy we came along with it,” Nick murmured. “Fuck, you are so hot, do you know that? I feel like I just blew the top of my head off.”

“I think, no… I know you blew mine off.”

Nick groaned as he felt his rapidly shrinking cock slip from Greg’s body with an audible plop. “I’m not sure it’s ever gonna work again,” he groaned as he rolled over.

Greg squirmed to get his leg out from under Nick. “It better work again,” he threatened, “Or I’ll just have to find myself a new Dom.”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“The Dom? Or finding another boyfriend?”

“Either one, go to sleep now.” Nick took care of the condom and padded into the bathroom for a wet washcloth. Greg was already asleep when Nick cleaned his chest and stomach. He tossed the washcloth blindly in the direction of the bathroom and crawled into bed next to Greg, pulling the sheets over both of them. Unconsciously Greg cuddled next to Nick, wrapping an arm and leg around him. Nick moved his hand over Greg’s back, pausing to caress the scars out of habit. “Love you, baby,” he murmured. It had been a long hard day and he felt himself slipping easily into sleep.


Three days of lessons with Lady Heather had built Greg’s confidence and undermined Nick’s. He now knew that he knew nothing at all about the S&M world and worried constantly that his ignorance would put both Greg and himself at risk. He considered telling Brass that they wouldn’t go through with it, but remembering the three dead men was enough to stiffen his resolve, if not his mettle. Only the reassurance that they needed only to look and listen at the bar kept him in the training.

He watched as Greg’s movements grew more controlled day by day. The younger man’s thirst for knowledge and ability to apply himself awed Nick; he wished he could learn his part as easily.

He came into Lady Heather’s room on the last day after another training session with Mistress Zenia, thankfully this one involving no beatings, to find Greg balancing a tray of biscuits for Lady Heather to select from.

“How’s he doing?” Nick asked, one Dom to another. Lady Heather had informed him that as a Dom, he had to assume that respect was his and act the part.

Greg looked up and winked and Lady Heather sighed. If Greg had been a real sub that she was training, Nick had no doubt it would have been something stronger than a sigh.

“Greg.” Lady Heather waited until Greg was facing her and gave him the Look. “You are a charming, intelligent young man with a delightful sense of humour. But if you forget yourself and do what you just did, you’re going to put Nick in danger. No one will respect a Dom who can’t keep his sub in line. I know you’re going to tell me you’re a pushy sub, but you’re going to a heavy-duty place with some nasty players. It’s your responsibility to make Nick look good to them.”

Greg looked abashed and nodded, dropping his eyes to the floor again.

“Put down the tray, Greg, over there.” Lady Heather pointed. “Stand up.”

Greg got off his knees with a sigh of relief. He had never actually realized how knobby his knees were until he had to crawl around on the polished wood floor. He had no padding and his knees were letting him know they weren’t happy.

“Nick, stand up.” Lady Heather drew Nick to stand in front of Greg. “We’re going to try a trust exercise. Put your hands out, both of you, palm to palm. Close your eyes and lean in to each other. Don’t push, just lean. The goal of the exercise is to hold each other up.”

Gently the two men leaned toward each other, equal pressure balancing out between them.

Satisfied that their eyes were closed, Lady Heather slipped off her shoes so that she could circle them without a sound. She assumed her Domme voice, soothing and powerful.

“There is a bond of trust between you, an exchange of weight. If either of you lean too far, or push too hard, you will both fall down. When you balance the burden between you, both of you remain standing, tall and proud.” She observed Nick nodding slightly and Greg’s face had relaxed.

“Keep your eyes closed. Greg, you spoke about the gift of submission. So far, you have only imitated submission, you haven’t truly felt it. If Nick’s life were at stake and you could save him by going on your knees to him, would you do it?”

“Yes,” Greg said softly.

“Nick, if Greg’s life were at stake, if someone tried to take him from you, would you fight for him?”

“Yes,” Nick said firmly.

“You have just made a promise to each other. Carry it in your hearts. Stand there and feel the submission, Greg. Feel the dominance, Nick. You have each given a part of yourself to the other man. What you have promised already existed inside you or you would not have been able to agree to this. When you feel doubt, remember how this moment felt and go there again.”

Lady Heather returned to her shoes, quickly stepping into them. She watched their faces, open and vulnerable as they stood holding each other. The surge of the connection between them was strong and she felt almost as if she had just celebrated an actual bonding of partners. Smiling softly, she seated herself again.

“You may open your eyes.”

The two men opened their eyes and smiled at each other, completely forgetting that Lady Heather was present. It was only when she cleared her throat that they dropped their hands and turned to look at her.

“Sit down. Before we costume you, I have a gift for each of you.” She held a narrow gold box to Greg.

When he opened it, he saw a supple leather collar, beautifully worked with a swirly pattern that incorporated a symbolic eye. He looked up at her with a questioning look.

“The name Gregory means watchful or vigilant. When you start getting a little disobedient, touch that collar and remember, your job is not to express your personality, it’s to be watchful and vigilant of Nick’s needs. Your attention should be focused solely on him. Ordinarily you would have to earn your collar from Nick, but I’m sure he would agree that you may have it now.”

Nick nodded.

“Snap your fingers,” Lady Heather commanded and as if mesmerized by her voice, Nick snapped his fingers and pointed at his feet.

In one fluid movement, Greg was out of his chair and on his knees, head bowed, offering the collar to Nick. The older man bent to buckle it and Greg arched his neck with pride. Sudden tears stung Nick’s eyes.

Greg remained kneeling as Lady Heather leaned forward to present Nick with a longer package. He opened it to find a soft, worn leather crop, as well as a leash. He looked up at her, and for the first time she found his expression difficult to read.

“When you need to remember you are the Dom, put the leash on his collar. I assure you, it will give you that nudge you need to own your control. And keep him safe.”

“And the crop?”

“Used ones command respect but I’m not expecting you to use it on him, it’s a prop,” Lady Heather laughed. “Now I have one last word for both of you. We have speeded you through this process. Both of you are unsettled, your walls have been torn down and built back up. Nick, you have a responsibility to keep Greg safe. He’s a very beautiful boy.” She leaned forward and slid her fingers through Greg’s hair. Nick was shocked to hear a kind of purr from his boyfriend.

“When he’s in a submissive state, he will not have the resources he usually does to deal with the world. He won’t be able to defend himself in that environment. If you see him getting into trouble, you must put the leash on him. Proper Doms will respect your claim. Don’t let your issues with dominance and submission get in the way of protecting him.”

Nick nodded without speaking, suddenly fearful about his ability to protect Greg. He looked at his boyfriend, realizing from the dreamy expression on his face that he was in some submissive headspace that he’d never seen before. It was disturbingly attractive and at the same time he understood exactly what Lady Heather had been trying to tell him. Steeling himself, he snapped the lead onto Greg’s collar.

The click of the metal seemed to put Greg deeper into his fugue and he leaned against Nick’s leg, as if trying to determine his Dom’s desires.

“Very good, both of you,” Lady Heather approved. “Nick, bring him along. Let’s get you some clothes.”

Nick stood, and Greg continued to kneel at his feet.

“Tell him to stand,” Lady Heather instructed calmly. “He’s going to wait for your orders now. If you want him to stand automatically when you do, you only have to tell him once. He’s quick, he’ll remember. There’s no code you have to follow on this.”

Nick said, “Baby, please stand when I do and just follow along, okay.”

“Yes Sir,” Greg said in a submissive voice.

Nick was hovering on the edge of freaking out when Lady Heather said, “It’s temporary, Nick. It’s just for a job.”

Nick looked anxiously at Greg and was relieved when his boyfriend smiled at him. He walked to the closet with Greg following along behind on his leash.

Lady Heather rang a small bell and a short man entered the room. He wore a collar that was barely visible under his button down shirt.

“This is Maurie, my tailor. He’ll be helping us fit you each with an outfit. Greg, please sit over there for a moment.”

Greg sat in a chair, thankful he could give his knees a rest and started fiddling with his leash.

“What do you think, slaveboy, leather pants for your owner?” Lady Heather turned to get Greg’s opinion.

An expression of wanton lust spread over Greg’s face as he nodded enthusiastically. Lady Heather suppressed a smile, wondering why people were amazed at her ability to read them. These two were so obvious she was surprised that Grissom had not presented them as a matched set at the beginning of their search for candidates.

“Leather pants it is then. Black okay with you, Nick?”

“It’s my favourite colour,” Nick said a little flippantly.

“Here, try these on while we decide about a shirt. And these boots.”

Nick ducked into the small curtained alcove and emerged shirtless, his golden skin glowing over the hard muscle of his chest. The black leather pants fit perfectly, accentuating his groin and hugging the curves of his ass.

Lady Heather allowed herself an internal giggle as Greg’s eyes glazed over. She watched him slip into his submissive persona and decided to test them.

Maurie cleared his throat to gather her attention and asked, “Mistress, what about a black polo shirt? And a jacket?”

“A silk tweed,” Lady Heather decided. “We don’t want him to look as if he’s trolling for a rent boy. He’s a man of means and he owns his own.”

Nick slipped on the black polo and Maurie pinned it to be tailored to a more flattering fit, highlighting his trim waist. Nick looked at himself dubiously in the mirror and Lady Heather quietly snapped her fingers at Greg, pointing to Nick’s feet. Without thinking, Greg went to his knees, rubbing his face against the soft leather. Nick slid his fingers into Greg’s hair and straightened up, looking the part when he glanced again at their image reflected in the mirror again.

Lady Heather smiled in satisfaction to see them begin to fill their parts more authentically.

“On your feet, Greg. What do you think about these?”

Maurie held up a tiny pair of PVC shorts and Greg paled, looking as if he was about to puke. Before he could speak, Nick spoke up authoritatively.

“No, I don’t like those. Show me something longer.”

Maurie and Greg looked at Nick in surprise, but Lady Heather nodded calmly. “I agree, would you like to see him in PVC pants?”

“Yes,” Nick smiled.

“All right, try these,” Maurie handed Greg a pile of clothing into which he slipped the dreaded shorts. Greg glared at him but whisked behind the curtain. His hand came through the curtain, holding his leash.

“Can you hang onto this, Nick? It’s in the way.”

“Sure.” Nick took the leash and doubled it over, slapping it mindlessly against his thigh.

Lady Heather mused about the subtleties of self-control. Certainly if she were not as disciplined, she might have burst out laughing at how easily they slipped in and out of their roles after three days. However, no matter what their physical build said, she suspected that it was Greg who wore the pants in this relationship.

Greg walked out glaring, his arms crossed defiantly on his chest. He still wore his Cold Play t-shirt but his pants were shiny PVC, low on his hips and tight to the knees, with a boot cut. “Better get on your sunglasses so you’re not blinded by the glare off my ass,” he said bitterly. “Fuck, these are too warm.”

“Language, Greg. Better watch it if you don’t want your mouth washed out with soap,” Lady Heather corrected him automatically. She looked up in time to catch his look of outrage before he slipped his impassive mask on.

“Let’s try this mesh shirt.”

Greg refused stubbornly, his arms still crossed. “Nothing see through.”

“Why not? If your Master commands it you will walk around without a shirt,” Lady Heather said calmly.

Nick shivered at the menace in her voice, admiring Greg as he stood toe to toe with her, not giving an inch.

“I have some scars on my back, I’m not showing them to anybody.”

“Let me see them, boy,” she commanded.

“No.” His refusal, stark and short, hung in the air between them.

Lady Heather held up a complicated harness with a ring positioned about in the middle of the chest. “You must wear this. The wire is embedded in it. Captain Brass has assured me that no search will reveal it. You may either wear this under a mesh shirt or with no shirt at all. Those are your only two choices.”

Greg shook his head. “Then I’m not going.”

Nick looked at his boyfriend with regretful surprise. If only he’d known about the costuming, he wouldn’t have had any trouble at all in convincing Greg not to volunteer for this.

Maurie looked totally shocked. Greg wore a collar and he’d been kneeling before, how dare he say no to Lady Heather. Uncomfortably he dropped his eyes, not wanting any part of this dispute.

“Three people, Greg,” Lady Heather said.

“Fine,” he snarled and snatched the harness and shirt from her, disappearing behind the curtain again. When he emerged, he was biting his lips and looking down, eyelashes fluttering rapidly. Nick caught his breath. He thought he’d never seen Greg look hotter, pants slung low on his hips, the leather of the harness crossing his chest, pink nipples clearly visible through the large mesh of the shirt.

“Turn around,” Lady Heather commanded.

“No,” Greg defied her.

Lady Heather looked at Nick.

“Greg,” Nick ordered in a quiet compelling voice. “Turn around.”

Greg hugged himself tighter and turned, expecting to hear a cry of revulsion or at least a gasp.

Lady Heather said, “Very nice. The scars are a plus. They’ll help your credibility a great deal.”

Nick’s face contorted and he cried, “You think they’ll think that I…”

Lady Heather nodded. “If only you’d told me about this earlier, I could have reassured both of you. Marks on his body add greatly to your status.” She turned Greg again, whose body posture was less defensive now, and lightly touched the bite mark on his chest. “Maybe you could get whoever made that to add a few more.”

Both men blushed deeply, remembering how the mark got there. They refused to meet each other’s eyes.

Lady Heather was gently amused. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to go without the shirt, Greg?”

He shook his head.

“Very well. These will be taken in and ready for you tomorrow. Go home and get a good night’s sleep. If you need to think about anything, think about your lessons. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Greg and Nick changed in sombre silence, leaving the clothing with Maurie.

“You think I’m supposed to leave this here?” Greg asked Nick, pointing at his collar.

“Keep it on, I think I like it.”

“You’re getting all kinky on me,” Greg said with a sudden flash of his incandescent crooked grin.

“And you love it,” Nick rejoined.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

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