A/N: sorry for the short delay - my computer decided to go kablooey and not let me open Word. Got a shiny new one now, so back on it. Two chapters to make up for it.

Trigger warning here - there is reference to historical sexual abuse and rape in this chapter

Ellis

I can hear Sir on the phone in his den as I pause in the entrance hall. He hasn't closed the door, but I know he thinks I'm asleep upstairs, as that's all I've been doing since the session yesterday, and I know equally well that I'll be punished for eavesdropping if he catches me.

"I know, Gray, but I have to do something. His mother physically and emotionally abused him." Okay, so doctor patient confidentiality goes out of the window when your Dom is in the room, clearly.

".........." He's listening to Gray for a long time. I look at the clock on the wall. It's late there, but I know Sir and Gray always talk things through.

"Thanks for that. I'll think about it. Anyway, what happened to your voice? That London weather give you a cold?"

".........."

"Mon Dieu, Gray. Why the hell didn't you say?! Poor Amir! I can't believe it. How is Liam?"

".........."

"I understand, mon ami, try to get some rest. Amir will need you to be strong for him."

Sir hangs up and I go to sneak back up the stairs when I hear his voice.

"Ellis, come in here." I go and stand in front of him, ashamed. I can't even do something like this right. Eavesdropping isn't just forbidden for subs, even regular people can usually manage not to break such obvious social expectations. My punishment will be bad for this and I shift uncomfortably, as my back is still sore.

"I'm sorry, Sir," I begin, but he holds a hand up to stop me.

"We'll worry about that in a moment. I want to talk to you and there is a lot to think about. Master Gray has suffered a loss. The submissive of his close friend has died in a car accident. He is suffering, I suspect, so I am going to need you to be on your very best behavior in time for his return." I nod, I can't bear to think of Gray suffering in that way, as I know he is very close to those English friends of his. "I need to think about how we're going to deal with your bad behavior, Ellis. Strip, and stand in the corner, to attention."

I do as he says quickly. I want him to know I can be good, even as the dull light of shame passes over me. I can't bear the idea that he may decide I'm too much trouble, might send me away and replace me with someone who'll be better for him. He leaves me there a long time, tapping away at his computer, leaving the room a few times. Ignoring me. I don't know how long, but my muscles are complaining from holding the stiff stance of attention.

"Pet, come. Kneel." I go to him, slightly unsteadily, forcing my joints to obey as I drop in front of him. He strokes his fingers through my hair and I settle against his hands, finally a feeling of warmth passing through me.

"You need to do better, Pet," he says sternly and I stiffen at the words.

"I know, I'm sorry, Sir."

"No more of that, Pet. From now on you'll call me Master, at all times." Master? I normally only call him that when we're playing or in the club. I can do it though, if it's what he wants.

"Yes, Master."

"And I've been taking it too easy on you. You've been hiding things from me," I flush at the true accusation, "you've been back chatting, and you are losing respect for me-,"

"I'm not S- Master, I promise," I yelp out.

"It's exactly that reaction, Pet. It doesn't work." I don't like the new name. He usually calls me by my name, or Baby. I don't like Pet. It's too abstract. Lacking in warmth. Something I've no doubt he's used on many other submissives in the past. Maybe that's why he's doing it. Maybe he's trying to distance himself. That thought makes my heart pound uncomfortably but I keep my eyes down, desperate not to disappoint him yet again. "I need you to listen and to do as you're told. Firstly, I want you to tell me the thing Dr. Marvin was talking about. He said he thinks there's something else from your past that you haven't told us." It's all I can do to keep my eyes down, I need to see his face, to see if the cold voice matches his eyes, which normally hold so much warmth when they look at me. I want to cry, but I won't, taking a shakily deep breath to get my reactions under control.

"When I was fourteen, Maci sent me to the Conservatory and didn't come back."

"You said that, Pet. What else?"

"The director, he, uhm, he would hit me, too, when I didn't do well enough. He would tell me I was useless and he would punch me, in the stomach or on my arms and legs. He'd pull my hair and sometimes he spat on my face." My head is still down and there's no reaction. God, I hate this, I don't want to remember any of it, but I haven't even got to the worst bit yet, the bit that might have my Master backing away, disgusted. I had been with people before him, of course, but when he finds out just how badly used-

"Just tell me everything, Pet."

"He s-started to touch m-me. When I got things wrong. He'd squeeze my face and push my lips together and say I had s-such a p-pretty mouth." I have to get this under control. My Master wants to know, he deserves to know why I can't just be normal, why I can't let him sleep at night. I take a deep breath and rush the rest out. "He started to use me. Use my mouth at first. When I was fifteen, he took my- he took me. And then he started to let other people, other teachers, do it too. He always said it was punishment because I wasn't good enough. Because I didn't try hard enough. I did try, so much, though, but it was never enough." And now the bit that will really repulse him. "As I got older, I realized that it was easier not to fight it. It wouldn't hurt as much and sometimes he'd let me have pleasure. He called me his sweet whore.

"But then, when I was almost eighteen, he said my scholarship was over and I had to leave. Nothing else. He just gave me a bag with my things in it and told me to get out. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to displease him by going against what he told me, so I went to my mother's house, but she wasn't there anymore. The people who lived there felt sorry for me, I think. I just told them I used to live there with my family, but they could tell there was something wrong. They let me stay for a few days and the lady helped me set up an interview with the Conservatory here, and they gave me money to get the bus." She'd been so sympathetic, even though she didn't know why, pressing an envelope with hundreds of dollars in it into my hand and asking me to let them know how it went. That's when I'd really known how awful I was, because she'd been pulled to do that even though she didn't know anything about me, and I knew how vile and broken I was must have been written all over my face. I hadn't contacted them really, just sent the money back with a note saying I was okay, as soon as I'd made enough money from my job in the music store.

Master hasn't said anything else, he's just holding my head against his thigh, but I relish the contact, relish the idea that maybe my Master does want to help me.

François

I don't cry often. Ever. But I can feel my eyes brimming as Ellis tells me his story. I hadn't even come close to guessing, wondering instead if it was some childhood incident of breaking the law. So wrong, and my heart is breaking at my sweet boy's pain. I have a horrible realization about what I can now see as tense reactions when I've called him my whore or slut during play, though he's never told me he doesn't like it, and there goes my heart all over again. Why has he hidden so much from me? I have no fear of his love, but I've been letting him down if his trust of me is so low.

I have addressed some small part of it now. He will call me Master, and I will show him better dominance, so perhaps some of his fears will reduce. I can do better though.

"Ellis, kneel here in waiting. I have some work to do, and I want you to always be in waiting inside the house until I tell you what to do. I am bothered that you haven't been honest with me, and you will be punished. You will not come until Saturday at the club, and only then if you behave appropriately in the interim." I'm worried that I have been demanding far too much from him, more than he can truly cope with, sexually, so, although I'm couching this as a punishment, perhaps a moratorium on dealing with such issues will be beneficial for him.

"Yes, Master," his voice is weak, but that is understandable with the emotions he has been feeling. I get to my work, and the first thing I do is use the internet to find this Conservatory in Ellis' old home town.

A/N: so we all know what 'assume' makes of us. Way too many assumptions and not enough conversation. Silly boys.