A/N: a long one - December 2 is a busy evening!

Dae

My time has come. I quickly but carefully balance the plates, nimbly stepping into the restaurant, avoiding all the idiots who are apparently blind to someone carrying delicate porcelain laden with hot food. I only hiss when some broad-shouldered douche backs towards me without looking, biting my tongue to prevent the backlash, because I know my own backlash would be far worse if I were to get fired. I make it to the table, finally, without further incident, lowering my eyes as I place the plates before their owners. It was hard to demonstrate my skills when I was taking the orders, one of the fools apparently needing to ask the precise ingredients of every dish, until the big one muttered at him to stop being such a princess and just pick something. I say the big one, but they're all big compared to me. He's the biggest though, sitting straight-backed with his head held high. He makes me shiver, and not in a good way. That kind of confidence is frightening, I think, but I don't have a choice. Or I did, maybe in the past. I know it's my own actions that have brought me here now.

"Will that be everything, Sir?" I purposefully address the big one, thinking he'll like that. Well, I suspect they'd all like that, but he's the one I'm trying to impress. I can't tell if I get a nice little narrowing of the eyes in appreciation because I'm very carefully keeping my eyes on the ground.

"Yes, thank you. What's your name?" his voice is a low growl, but I don't think it means anything. He looks like an animal, of course he growls.

"Dae, Sir." I wait, expecting a dismissal, maybe it's a test.

"Thank you, Dae, you're dismissed." I leave. I think that was it, and I hope I passed.

The evening was a wash after all. I managed to keep it up the whole time, nearly missing them calling for their check because I was so eager to show that I never look in anyone's eyes, but luckily Lacey just thought I was feeling stressed so nudged me to get me moving. I got a three-hundred-dollar tip on an early seating, so I presume they liked something about my service, but the big guy didn't say anything else directly to me. I don't know if I did something wrong: my training has been perfunctory at best, but I'm going to keep quiet about my failure. He'll be back, I'll get another chance. He owns the place after all.

* * * * *

Dexter

"Dex, can I see you in my office?" François asks, and I pat tonight's sub, Alain, telling him to stay where he is.

When we're inside the warm comfortable space I take a seat, and François passes me a whiskey and water.

"Serious?" I ask, nodding at the drink.

"Hopefully not, but it may take a while," he admits. "I'm having some problems, with the company, and I need your advice." I know which company he's referring to immediately. François would certainly try to resolve things on his own first, and problems with the club would have been alluded to sooner, as he began to resolve them. This must be his family's property development company, which François and his siblings have been taking from strength to strength. But rapid expansion can certainly raise red flags, and the fact that my own business is personal protection means I can already take a guess.

"Have you been threatened?" I ask.

"You could say that. Last week I had a visit from one Andrei Volkushkin, who suggested a business merger, and wasn't exactly happy and smiling when I turned him down."

"Did he threaten you?"

"Not explicitly. Just said he wasn't used to being told no, in that way, you know, that makes it sound like a threat."

"I get it." I take a sip of my drink as I put a call through to my top intelligence officer. "Marley, Andrei Volkushkin, fill me in." I don't hang up. As expected, it takes her only minutes to come back to me, and I relay the information to François. "He is organized crime. Head of a tough family out of Boston, though he's never stretched this far south before. But he's just been released from prison. Maybe he truly is trying to go straight?"

"Maybe, but he isn't doing it off the hard work of my family."

It's fair. François's dad moved his family from Montreal when François was a kid to take over his own father's property development business, and he was largely absent from the lives of his children as he focused on building the company. François doesn't talk about it, but I know he has a very distant relationship with his parents now – all of his siblings do, even if they did what was expected and followed him into it. I can't help him with any bitterness he feels from that, but I can do something about the OC side of things. I encounter it regularly and have something of a reluctant mutual acceptance going on with several local families. Even if a family out of Boston is outside my usual purview, I can deal with it.

"Well, whether he's legitimate or not, your business would be a great way to launder money."

"Believe me, I know, and it isn't happening on my watch. Volkushkin needs to know that too."

"So, do you have a plan, or do you want one from me?"

"At the moment, I want to wait and see what his next move is, but I need my family safe."

"Of course. I suggest you have a personal protection team for each of your family members." François has an older sister, married with two children, and a younger brother with a fiancée and baby, as well as his parents, all of whom are involved in the business in some way or another. He nods dismissively.

"Sure, and someone for Ellis, too. Will you investigate a little further though? Maybe get me something I can use against him if he pushes it?"

"Of course. I'll give you Connor."

I met Connor when I joined the police at eighteen, completing my Bachelor's and then my Master's in Criminology by night, before I joined the F.B.I. and he joined the Marines where, by one of those strange quirks, he was in the same intake at the Naval Academy as François. They were posted together, until François left to create the club, and certainly developed that bond that seems common to the armed forces, and I know François will trust him more than anyone else.

"Do you want someone for Lucien?"

"He's still with Medecins Sans Frontieres, based in North Africa right now."

"I suspect he'll be safe then. He's not connected to the company, but I can get a contact over there to check up on him. And you'll have a team too?"

"Not necessary, Connor can look after Ellis. I can take care of myself." That's probably the best I'm going to get, so I nod in agreement, and make the necessary calls to my offices, which are open perpetually, as the need for protection rarely follows regular office hours.

"Your family members will have their team in place by the morning, and Connor will be at your house at seven a.m." François rolls his eyes, but it means nothing to me as I know he'll have been up for a couple of hours by then, regardless of the late night I'm sure he'll have tonight.

* * * * *

I head back into the lounge, noting with disappointment that Alain is not where I left him. I spot him on the dancefloor with his friends and approach.

"I presume you wish to be released, Alain?" He spins around, his eyes on my shining leather shoes.

"N-no, Sir! I'm sorry, you were just gone for a long time."

"I know. And I gave you what I thought was an extremely straightforward instruction. Was it not?"

"Yes, Sir, it was," he pouts, still looking down, "but I got bored. You can punish me?"

"No, Alain. Punishment was not why I requested your company this evening. You are released."

I walk away, back to the VIP area, frustrated. I have no qualms in punishing subs if it's required to improve their understanding, but I don't do it simply because they're rude. Those subs I just stay away from, so I won't be asking Alain for an evening any time soon, regardless of his pretty blue eyes and soft blond hair. But I'm annoyed. I had been looking forward to our interaction, so I scan my eyes around the room, seeking out someone who I know won't let me down. My eyes alight on the perfect option, though he's currently in conversation with another Dom, Simeon. I keep my fingers crossed that Owen will reject Simeon, who dips his toe in Sadism, which I know is not a kink of Owen's, having taken some small part in his training process. He does, with a polite smile and a dip of his head, and Simeon walks away apparently unoffended, which I'm unsurprised by, as Owen certainly has a way with him.

"Owen," I approach as he dances with some friends, wearing little other than a pair of tiny dance shorts that seem positively sprayed on, showing off his slim frame, and the obligatory army-style boots.

"Master Dexter, Sir, it's good to see you." I see his small smile, though he keeps his eyes down.

"You're looking extremely well. Are you planning on scening tonight, Owen?"

"With you, Sir? Yes, I'd like that."

"Good. Would you like to continue dancing for a while, or will you come and watch the show with me?"

"I'll come with you, Sir." Owen follows me into the private showroom where Xander is about to perform.

Xander's into medical fetishism, which can be a bit daunting for those who haven't explored it, but I know Owen is well-trained enough not to need reminding that if it's too much he only has to ask to leave. He sits elegantly to attention by my legs as the show begins, resting his hand on my calf.

The sub, a thirty-year-old named Travis, is already bound to an examination table, his arms bound above his head and his ankles cuffed in the widely spread stirrups. Xander enters the stage, wearing a white doctor's coat and a face mask, pausing to stroke Travis' hair and whisper something to him. I lean forward to catch Owen's attention.

"What are your limits on this?"

"Some hard limits, Sir, but the show didn't come with warnings did it?" It did not, and if edgeplay were involved it would have, so I confirm. "So mainly soft limits for the kind of things I'm sure he'll be doing today, Sir." That's good, nothing that should upset him then, which I appreciate, as a good show, which Xander will certainly provide, can be a great benefit to an even better scene afterward.

Xander begins by feeling over Travis's body, alternating between light and hard touches and pinching sensitive areas, building tension until Travis is clearly having to prevent himself from bucking to demand more, his slim cock dripping on his flat stomach. When he's ready, Xander snaps on a medical glove before scooping cold lubricant and smearing it over the boy's twitching hole. I almost chuckle at that perfect rendition of the perfunctory nature of real medical exams, wondering if he caught that skill directly from Landon and Gray, who I know have given him training in some of the techniques. When he pushes two fingers in deep, Travis can't help the movement of his hips, and Xander squeezes the base of his cock, none too gently, to remind him to be still. Xander spends some time massaging the prostate, apparent by the clenching and unclenching of Travis' hands above his head and the mewling from his throat.

Eventually, Xander withdraws his fingers, and I note that Owen's chest is rising and falling rapidly, his hand unconsciously stroking my leg as he bites his lip, clearly aroused by his fellow sub's own arousal. I see his eyes go very wide as Xander pulls a speculum from the console table; a smooth three-pronged metal one, and I watch his reaction with interest, certainly horny, but adorably nervous too, and he squeezes my calf muscle in time with Xander sliding the instrument inside Travis and twisting it to its maximum. When Xander has the boy wide open he takes a long, flexible instrument and slides it in, twirling it around to tickle Travis' stretched walls. It's slim but very long, and you can see the point where it reaches the first bend, because Travis gasps and yelps at the strange feeling. Xander keeps tickling him inside until he's begging for something more.

Xander carefully withdraws the probe and the speculum, leaving the boy with a delicious gape, ready to be filled, which he does swiftly, flicking the coat to one side so the audience can see him slamming into that well-prepared hole. Owen is squeezing my calf again and he turns to glance at me briefly, before dropping his eyes when he sees me looking.

"You ready to play, Owen?"

"Yes, Sir," he murmurs, letting me lead him by the hand to my playroom, his desire very clear to see in those tiny shorts.

When we get there, he strips and stands in waiting, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes on the floor.

"May I cuff you, Owen?" I ask from behind him, stroking down his slim torso until I reach his leaking hardness, which I pass over with featherlight touches.

"Mmhmm, yes please, Sir," he moans delightfully while I ponder exactly what to do with this extraordinarily pretty boy. I decide I want access to his beautiful full lips, so I guide him to the horse, cuffing him to the legs by his wrists and ankles.

"Let me know your safewords, Owen," I say, and he tells me. Luckily, because I've worked with him before, I know a great many of his preferences, so I decide to go relatively gently this evening. I only want to have some fun, not push any limits, for either of us.

I pull down my horsehair flogger, which will give a very nice sting, which I know Owen enjoys. I work his shoulders and his lovely plump ass until the skin there is flushed deep pink and I can see his precum pooling under him as he moans in pleasure. I haven't quite finished with him yet, continuing to flog as I slide my cock into his hot mouth. He accommodates me with ease, accepting me into the tightness of his throat as he moans around me. I won't last long with the little flicks of his tongue as he sucks me down, so I move behind him, stroking his flushed skin as I slide my lubed and sheathed cock inside his incredibly tight space as he whimpers out the combined pain and pleasure. I go slow for a while, still flogging, to allow him to get used to me, speeding up when I can feel him responding, clenching rhythmically around me, clenches that get tighter and tighter as he builds up a need to orgasm, until I whisper for him to let go, and he does just a few moments later, almost perfectly in time with my own release. A perfect ending to an imperfect evening.

Ellis

Sir hasn't been to the VIP area yet, which is frustrating me. He told me to go dance but keep an eye out for him because he had some membership work to deal with. He missed Master Xander's show, which meant I missed it too, even though I wanted to see it. And that was after him going out for dinner with his friends earlier and leaving me home with leftovers. I can't sulk because Master François hates that, and I'll only get punished. I still sulk, don't get me wrong, but I try my hardest to never do it when Sir is around, though the number of times he catches me out I wonder if he has a mini-drone following me around or something. I can't complain too much, because I don't hate him using the paddle on me, but it's annoying that apparently he has no such moratorium on sulking, as he's really not a smiley guy.

I'm missing Gray. He's been gone a week now and somehow I hadn't realized how much I rely on him to keep Master François under control. Control, though, that isn't the right word, because even Master Gray or Master Landon don't control Sir, even though they're his closest friends. But they keep him happy in a bigger way than I understood, they must, because I know Sir hasn't seen Master Landon since last week, and of course Gray is away, so that's the only explanation I can think of for why Sir has been so grumpy this week – like a bear with a three-day-bender hangover.

I do wonder if it's because I moved in with him. He didn't exactly live alone before, what with the butler and the housekeeper (rich people, am I right?), but they have some fancy shack at the end of the garden, so it's pretty obvious Master François needs his own space. Maybe I'm invading it, though when I tentatively suggested he might want some time on his own he looked genuinely shocked and dragged me onto his lap, before fucking me senseless, so I don't even know.

But right now, I don't care if what I'm doing will get me a punishment. I can cope with a spanking, because I suspect it won't be anything more intense, as, except for that physical confirmation I'm not in the way, earlier this week, we haven't even had sex since last Saturday's scene, so Sir must be gasping for it by now and isn't going to put me out of action with a rough punishment. Before I moved in we were at it every single time we saw each other, multiple times. The man has a crazy high sex drive, which suits me because, since I met him, so do I. Maybe, after he's punished me for disturbing his work, I can get him revved up with a little tongue action. Mmmm, he really does have the biggest, juiciest cock – I can feel my mouth watering just thinking of it.

I've managed to successfully distract myself from the contretemps I'm committing as I stand in front of his office door. I walked past several bouncers on the way, but because of who I am no one stopped me. Hey, I don't need other people to save me from myself, I'm a big boy. I don't even knock, maybe hoping that how hot I look in this new leather harness will be enough to distract him about me just turning up, but my immediate thought as the door swings open is that I really, really wish I'd knocked, and it's nothing at all to do with my, now certain, punishment.

There's a table in the middle of François' office – not the small coffee table by the comfortable leather chairs, but a table that has obviously been very intentionally brought in precisely for the purpose it's currently being used, which is so some cute young twink can be stretched across it on his back, strapped by ankles and wrists, while François, my Master, flogs his smooth skin to a glowing state of red as his slides his big hand up and down the boy's painful-looking erection. Those hands that are supposed to be mine; that stroke my flesh until I'm moaning and writhing, that play with my body, and that cup my chin tenderly, and massage aching muscles as soft kisses are dropped. I want to growl, but it comes out as a whimper and I turn; to run, to escape to just get as far away as I can from this fucked up situation – the more fucked up because, really, I can't even be angry, or upset, or jealous.

I only pause at my Master's commanding tone.

"Don't you dare go anywhere other than straight to our room, Ellis." He sounds mad, but I'm not even bothered. I'm madder, even if it isn't his fault. But fine. The playroom it is.

François

I wasn't expecting Ellis' beautiful face to be appearing in my doorway while I was edging Perry, who's in the final stages of training as a submissive, just focusing on learning to control his release. I don't lock my office door in case of genuine emergency, but my staff know not to disturb me when I'm working, and the fucking great red light above the door is another excellent cue. I managed to call after Ellis as he ran, but I can only hope he obeys my instruction, as I certainly can't abandon Perry right now.

"I'm very sorry, Perry," I say as I release his arms and legs, helping him upright.

"That's okay, Sir. I'm just sorry I couldn't make the earlier appointment." But he doesn't look that sorry, because I know he likes to be watched.

"And that was only because I cancelled the original appointment, I can assure you, you don't need to apologize. Remember your confidence."

"Yes, Sir," he sighs, but he's getting away with that one. Maybe not on another day, but the fact is, I cancelled his original appointment because I was worried about Ellis. His lack of sleep, and his nightmares when he does manage to doze off. Often, he isn't even remembering that he woke up screaming in the night and, frankly, I'm beginning to feel as drained as he looks. So I spent that day with him, trying to be comforting, and normal, even if I think he might be getting annoyed at how clingy I'm being, as he tried to get me to go and do something on my own, but I refused.

"I'm sorry this means you won't be getting certified until next week, Perry, but practice edging yourself. Remember, every day at least one, to the varied times as denoted on the worksheet before you allow yourself to orgasm. Record your successes so I can review them when I see you next."

"Yes, Sir, it's difficult, but I'm getting better."

"You are, Perry, you're getting very good. I promise, by the time I'm done you'll be able to control it for hours. It'll be the three-minute quickies that are more difficult, but you'll get them too, given the right stimulation. Make another appointment at the front desk on your way out, for any time next week."

Perry thanks me and leaves, and I wash up, running cool water over my face. Trying to tamp down my fury. It's a simple instruction. Wait in the lounge, dance with your friends; nothing complicated about that. Even if I hadn't specified that, he knows not to come to my office to get me. The only time Ellis comes to my office is when I bring him, and that's usually because I like to fuck him in here – the inappropriate and highly arousing mixture of business and pleasure. Damn, with how good he looked in that outfit, I'd probably be doing that now, punishment notwithstanding, if he hadn't interrupted training. But his face. Shock, which I guess is understandable, but then anger, and, the worst, sadness. I have a feeling anger was winning out when he stormed off, though I can hope he's calmed down a little, waiting for me.

He isn't in the playroom. I'm expecting him naked and in forgiveness, but no. It's empty. I growl in fury. Another simple instruction, ignored. I stride into the lounge and spot him immediately, dancing sensuously with some of the other subs; sensuously but slightly unsteadily. What the fuck? How is he even drunk? I've only been thirty minutes, and he isn't allowed to drink in the club, so I know the bar staff haven't been serving him. I have no issue with him having the odd wine with dinner, or a beer or two at a barbecue, but he knows alcohol is forbidden here as we always scene and I want him in full control and able to consent. But then I glance over to the bar, see Jax, my head barman, whispering angrily in the ear of a young man who is new, and who looks appropriately terrified, and see where some of the problem arose. Then I see Ellis spin away from his friends, surreptitiously swooping a half finished drink off a table and downing it in one, replacing the empty glass before the Dom it belongs to has even noticed it's gone. So that explains the rest. Too much stuff for me to deal with.

I approach Jax.

"Explain."

"I'm sorry, Sir. Pacey here is new tonight, and while he knows Ellis isn't to be served, he didn't actually know he was Ellis, because he wasn't with you, and he's somehow got his hands on a red band so he didn't card him. He ordered a Long Island and drank it very quickly, so Pacey asked for my advice, which is when I realized." The red bands are worn by subs who want to, or have been given permission to, drink, to both allow them to be served and let Doms know they're unavailable for scenes. I have some in my playroom, though I'd all but forgotten about them, as I used to give them to subs I'd scened with if they wanted to go back out to the club after we'd finished. Not that it would happen often, as I pride myself in leaving them so weak-kneed they can barely move. But that will teach me to hire from outside my existing sub membership, as anyone else would have known who Ellis was.

"It's not his fault then, Jax. There will be no need to punish him." The boy almost seems to deflate in relief, the tears that had been dropping drying up. "Though he knows now, and I don't expect it to happen again."

"No, Sir, I promise it won't Sir, I'm sorry," the boy, Pacey, yelps, and I sigh and turn back to the dancefloor.

Ellis is still dancing and, even drunk, he moves gracefully, sinuously moving his hips and twisting his arms. My pants get tight and I swear to myself. No matter how delicious my boy is I won't be able to take him tonight, not the way I want to, though I suppose a drunken vanilla fumble might have its points. But first, I have to resolve the cause of this problem.

I walk behind Ellis, gripping my hand on his neck, pressing the lock of his collar into his skin, just a little reminder. He almost sinks into my touch for a moment before he seems to remember, and stiffens, ceasing his undulating movements.

"Playroom, now," I grunt in his ear, and he scurries to follow.

"What possessed you, Ellis?" I growl, not defining what I mean, as there's a few things the question could apply to.

"I know you can't punish me if I'm drunk," he whispers. Okay that's the answer to one of them.

"Why did you come to my office?" I'm wondering why he even did something to get himself punished in the first place, he's normally so good.

"I wanted you with me. I knew I'd get a little punishment for being naughty, but I wanted you." His voice is so quiet I can barely hear him. "I didn't expect to find you cheating."

"What the fuck?" I explode. "I wasn't cheating, Ellis, how can you suggest that? I was working."

"Why did you tell me you were doing paperwork?"

"I said I was sorting a membership out. Perry is training and I won't certify him until he's completed his training. Today was meant to be his last session, but now he'll have to come back next week, as I obviously couldn't finish the session."

"Training? You were bringing him to orgasm!"

"Yes. I was grading him on orgasm control. It wouldn't work if we just sat and looked at each other. It's hardly theory work."

"Is that what you do when you're training?"

"Sometimes. What did you think?"

"I thought it was positions and behavior and stuff. Maybe the odd whipping."

"Well, it's that too..."

"Oh, okay," Ellis still doesn't seem satisfied, but we won't get anywhere while he's drunk. Maybe I should have explained it better, but it's not like I've been training many subs lately, not since I met Ellis. I mainly ask my friends to help with that side of things. I wonder if I've been letting things slide.

Perhaps it's time for this though, a little alcohol might dull Ellis' reaction.

"Ellis, about your nightmares- "

"It's not a big deal, Sir. I can deal with it."

"You can't Ellis. You don't even remember most of them, but your nightmares are making you scream every night." He looks shocked, and scared. "I spoke to Gray. You have an appointment with one of his colleagues on Monday and you will talk with a professional even if you won't talk with me."

"Yes, Sir." His acquiescence is dull, emotionless, but it's a yes, which I suppose is all I could have hoped for.

A/N: hope no one's too bothered by the Owen thing - remember he'd had no interaction with Gray at this point, and he did play with a few Doms before then - Dex was always going to treat him right.