* * * * *

I pass my keys to the valet, viewing the long line waiting to get into the club, 'La Maison de la Douleur' in matt black lettering above the red door. It's not quite as pretentious as it sounds, but it's close. Despite Frankie's family leaving Montreal when he was twelve, I swear his French accent gets stronger by the year. The name isn't even reliable – although there is a dungeon, and a few of the Doms are sadists, it's not really the focus of what goes on in there. La Maison de Plaisir would have been a better name, but Frankie thought his idea sounded better, as usual.

I ignore the line, going straight to the red velvet rope manned by Fetu, a huge Samoan man with biceps larger than both my thighs put together.

"Master Gray, Sir, it is a pleasure to see you again," he rumbles.

"And you, Fetu," I pull him into a hug, though he towers above my six-two frame, and feel him resting his chin on my head for a moment.

"Master François will be happy to see you, I know he's missed you Sir."

"Thank you, Fetu." I smile at the pleasant rumble of his words.

I enter the dimly lit lobby, signing in and passing my thick wool coat to the coat check girl – she's new, so I introduce myself and she smiles flirtily – so not a sub then. That's unusual, most of the employees at the club are subs. And men.

I go upstairs to the main club area, already busy even though it isn't late, though my confident stroll and the fact that most of the crowd are submissive means I don't have too much trouble making it to the bar. I might be minute compared to Fetu, and even François, but I'm no slouch in the height and breadth department when compared with mere mortals.

I could just head straight to the VIP area and get table service, but I feel as though I need some alcohol-flavored courage before I put my full Dom mask on. I accept the bourbon from the barman and down it, feeling the liquid burn enticingly as it slides down my throat.

I can do this.

* * * * *

I greet a few regulars before I head down to the VIP area. There's a lot of new faces – two months is a long time in clubland – but there is still plenty of familiarity. A delicate and pretty man with pale skin and scruffy-blond hair approaches me.

"Master Gray," he says breathlessly, his eyes on the ground.

I wrack my brain. He was fully trained just before I stopped coming. Ewan? No, Owen, that was it.

"Owen, I'm pleased to see you have developed the skills you've learnt beautifully."

I can see the faint glow of pleasure that flushes over his throat and face and am gratified.

"Master Gray, if you wish to play this evening I would be honored if you would consider me."

"You haven't chosen a Dom yet, Owen?"

"No, Sir, not yet. I am enjoying discovering all the different styles of the different Doms for the time being."

"Good boy, there's no need to rush into anything until you find something right."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I don't know if I will be playing this evening, Owen, but if I decide to, I will certainly consider you."

"Thank you, Sir," Owen disappears back into the heaving throng of the dance floor. I certainly would consider him if I decide to play. Although I don't often go for the tiny, delicate types, he's a picture-perfect submissive – one who knows exactly what he wants, which, at the moment, is a little bit of everything, and I'm somewhat pleased that he hasn't bowed to the pressure of being collared too soon, as I know there'll be many Doms itching to get their hands on him for the long term.

When I get downstairs to the VIP area a huge muscular man approaches me. He'd look like another bouncer – he's not much shorter than Fetu, and far more muscularly defined – if it weren't for his ox-blood leathers and open silk shirt. This is François. Dom extraordinaire and my best friend.

I pull him into a hug. He's not much of a hugger usually, but always capitulates for me, because I am.

"I've missed you frère," he mumbles into my ear, and I pat his broad back.

"And I you, Frankie."

I haven't seen him in the two months since I last came to the club, and I know he was worried about me, although we've communicated through messaging. I pulled away after what happened with my last sub, well boyfriend actually, and I know that action hurt him more than he'll ever admit.

I guide him back into the VIP area and that's when I see him. Ellis. Frankie's sub and boyfriend of six months, so just seeing him isn't what puts the scowl on my face.

"What did he do?"

Ellis is on the floor, in the center of the VIP area, naked, on his knees, his wrists cuffed to his ankles, that being the only point his body is allowed to connect, the strain clear in his arched tense muscles, glistening and defined under the dim lights of the club, his blond hair dark with sweat. It's a classic punishment stress position, though by itself that isn't the problem.

"I thought public humiliation was on his list of hard limits?"

"It is. He needs to be pushed."

"Did he ask you to push him?"

"He doesn't always know what he needs."

"François," I say, my voice a growl, "he does. That's the entire fucking point of a submissive, and that's why we have lists, and contracts."

I'm trying to keep my voice low, it doesn't do to argue with the head Dom, regardless of my lucky status as his best friend. But this is too much. Some of the things Frankie had been saying to me in his messages had led to me feeling uneasy, but this is worse than I could ever have thought.

And it's exacerbated by the two subs who are in position on either side of Frankie's large armchair, obediently bowing their heads. I'm guessing these are the two newbies Frankie told me about and it makes my blood boil that they're seeing Ellis like this.

"He hasn't used his safe words," Frankie is sulking, which would be amusing to see in his huge, masculine face, except, with Frankie, sulking is only one step below fury.

"And he won't. Tell me François, has Ellis ever, ever, used his safe words with you?"

"No."

"And that's because he's determined not to let you down. How long has he been in that position?"

"Only two hours."

I growl. I really am fucking furious at my friend.

"Let him loose. And make sure he knows he did well. Or I won't be responsible for my actions."

Frankie looks at me with amusement now, he knows I'd never go up against him physically, but then he sees my face and the humor passes.

He crouches by Ellis, supporting his body as he releases the cuffs. I can see Ellis is doing his best not to collapse, and his best not to cry. That boy will do anything not to cry. Frankie lifts him and sits, Ellis on his lap, rubbing his sore joints and whispering soothing words.

"What did he do?" I ask softly, when I see Ellis is sleeping with Frankie's huge arms securing his body.

"Stole from me."

"What?!"

That doesn't sound right. There's no way Ellis is a thief, regardless of his background.

"I had put a thousand dollars on the table, ready to pay a tradesman who's coming to the house tomorrow. It was taken."

"It could have been anyone," Frankie has several members of staff in his mansion.

"It could have been, but it wasn't. He admitted it before I could even ask him."

"Well, if he didn't keep it from you, what's the difference between spending that money and buying something on his credit card?"

Like most submissives in a long-term relationship, Ellis has full access to buy whatever he chooses, although he is supposed to discuss large purchases with Frankie first. But to Frankie, a thousand dollars is a long way from being a large purchase.

"It was inconvenient, I had to get more cash from the safe."

"Are you for-fucking-real? You broke his hard limits because you had to twirl a fucking knob three times?"

I'm still whispering, but his eyes go wide at the vitriol in my voice.

"No. It's because he didn't buy anything. He gave it to his friend. And he wouldn't tell me who, or why."

Okay, that's a bit of a bigger one. Not really because Frankie is proving to be a possessive douche where Ellis is concerned, but mainly because it breaks a pretty important covenant of being open and honest at all times. Still doesn't excuse the punishment though, which should have taken place behind closed doors.

"Frankie, I understand you were angry. But it strikes me that you made the decision on how to punish Ellis while you were in that state of anger. I mean, I hope so, because I sincerely hope you aren't going round breaking his hard limits when you're calm. You know it's unacceptable to punish in anger."

"I know," and he does look ashamed, at least.

"I want you to come and see me, to talk properly."

"As my shrink?"

"You know I can't do that. Just as my friend. I'm worried about you Frankie. And I'm worried for Ellis."

"I would never- "

"You already did, Frankie, you already did."

* * * * *

A/N:

French:

La Maison de la Douleur = The House of Pain

La Maison de Plaisir = The House of Pleasure

Sounds better in French, huh?

And the off-chance you're not sure about the pronunciation, Francois is pronounced sort of like 'Fronsewah'