Sticks and Stones

A Kinky Cupid Story

By Kim Dare

Sticks and Stones (Kinky Cupid, Book 3)

Copyright © Kim Dare 2019

Published by Kim Dare

Cover Art by Kris Norris

First Edition – February 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Kim Dare. Applications should be addressed, in writing, to Kim Dare at the e-mail address available at www.kimdare.com.

The author has asserted her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

Sticks and Stones

As the owner of The Spread Eagle, Mr Tomlinson has told himself that the only reason he keeps a watchful eye on his bartender, Dan, is because he doesn't like his employees slacking off when they're on the clock. What other interest could he have in Dan when they are both confirmed doms?

Finding out from the club's resident brat, Bret, that Dan has switched in the past, opens up a whole new world of opportunities for Mr Tomlinson. And, discovering that Bret is trying to set Dan up with a dom who is completely unsuitable for him means that Mr Tomlinson has to act quickly.

But was everything Bret told Mr Tomlinson the truth? And, if Dan really is a switch, why has he been lying about that ever since he came to work at The Spread Eagle?

Table of Contents

Blurb

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Also in the Kinky Cupid Series

Also by the Author

About the Author

Chapter One

“What are you two up to this time?”

The boys jumped at the sound of Gareth Tomlinson’s voice. Bret looked innocent—nothing surprising there—he could probably be caught looming over a stabbing victim with a bloody knife in his hand and still look angelic. Ricky, on the other hand, had never acquired his friend’s skill as an actor. He looked as guilty as hell.

Any tiny doubts that Tomlinson might have harboured about whether or not The Spread Eagle’s resident brat and his side-kick were cooking up a new scheme disappeared.

Stopping just a yard away from them, Tomlinson folded his arms across his chest and glared at Bret.

“Good evening, Mr Tomlinson,” Ricky offered, politely.

Tomlinson kept all his attention on Bret. “Spit it out. What are you planning?”

Bret’s eyes opened very wide. He held his hands up in surrender. “Me?”

Tomlinson raised an eyebrow, not even slightly impressed. “It’s less than a week until Valentine’s Day, don’t bother trying to tell me you aren’t planning to make some poor sod’s life a living hell between now and then.”

Bret’s lips twitched.

Tomlinson looked heavenward and wondered what he’d done wrong in a previous life to make the brat pick his club to play in. He glanced at Ricky, who still looked guilt-ridden.

Just because Bret’s plans hadn’t got Ricky killed last year, was no reason to let him run riot again this year.

“Bret,” he warned.

Most subs tended to tremble in their highly polished boots when he used that tone with them, so did a fair number of doms. Bret just grinned.

“I may have just casually mentioned to one guy that another guy isn’t actually a dom, but a switch,” he acknowledged.

Tomlinson held back a sigh. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance the guy you told him about actually is a switch.”

“Actually, he is,” Bret said.

“Right,” Tomlinson huffed. “Of course he is.”

“No, he really is a switch, sir,” Ricky cut in. Tomlinson studied him for a few seconds. Even though the boys spent a hell of a lot of time together, there was no evidence that Ricky had picked up any of Bret’s less endearing habits. If he met someone’s eye when he spoke, he was telling the truth.

“Just who are we talking about here?” Tomlinson demanded.

“McCormack,” Bret said.

Tomlinson raised an eyebrow at him. “You told someone that McCormack is a switch? And the idiot believed you?”

Bret laughed and shook his head. “No! I dropped a hint to McCormack that Dan is a switch—and he is. If you don’t believe me, you can ask my master. They’ve known each other for years, and even if Dan hasn’t switched since he started working here, he really is into it and—”

“Dan Stephens? Dan, who works behind my bar?” Tomlinson cut in.

Bret nodded, still smiling as if the world was a bloody brilliant place.

“You found out that Dan has switched in the past, and the first thing you do is try to put a dom like McCormack on his tail?” Tomlinson expanded.

“You don’t think they’ll be good together?” Bret asked, his tone once more dripping with sweetness.

For several seconds, Tomlinson was speechless. No, he didn’t bloody well think they’d be good together. The idea of Dan subbing to a guy like McCormack was appalling.

Hell, the idea of Dan subbing to any of the doms who came to the club was nothing short of horrifying.

Tomlinson didn’t consider himself to be in the habit of coddling his staff, or feeling even vaguely protective over experienced doms. But his every instinct had prompted him to keep a discreet eye on Dan ever since the guy started working at The Spread Eagle. Now Tomlinson knew why.

A switch. He should have guessed.

His instincts regarding another man’s kinks hadn’t been over-ruled by a cocky smile and a hot arse after all. Dan did have a sub side to him—one that he might be willing to let out to play if given the right encouragement.

Tomlinson’s mind raced as he rejigged his mental map of the world to include a few possibilities that he’d thought weren’t so possible just a few minutes before. Dan was single. If he was also open to playing the sub role, then there was no reason why they couldn’t—

A whisper caught Tomlinson’s attention and scattered his thoughts. He didn’t catch what Bret said to Ricky, but he didn’t need to know details.

He stepped forward, as if he could literally put himself shield-like between Dan and the two subs. “Listen to me, both of you. I’m not having a repeat of last year’s nonsense. What’s done is done, but it’s not happening again. You’ll leave Dan alone.” He paused for a second. “And you’ll leave McCormack alone,” he added, just for form’s sake.

“But—” Bret began.

“No buts. If I have to bring your master into the matter, I will.”

Bret hesitated. He pursed his lips as if he was considering his options, but mentioning Marcus seemed to have swayed him just as easily as Tomlinson expected.

Finally, Bret nodded. “Whatever. Even if we did get McCormack interested in him, it probably wouldn’t have been that much fun anyway. Ten to one McCormack would have just disappeared into a private room with him, and we’d have never got the details out of either of them.”

Tomlinson clenched his teeth as images of what might have happened in that private room rushed to fill his mind. No.

For the first time, he looked past Bret and Ricky, to the corner they’d been peering around. His stomach lurched.

Striding past the boys, he stepped into the club’s main bar room.

Dan was behind the bar. That was right and proper, and just as things should be. But, McCormack was also there, standing alongside the bar, directly opposite Dan. Almost before he knew what he was doing, Tomlinson found himself across the room.

“Tomorrow night?” McCormack asked Dan, just as Tomlinson came within earshot.

“Dan’s not available tomorrow night,” Tomlinson cut in.

Dan looked up from the glass he was cleaning. McCormack looked over his shoulder. Both looked slightly startled by his sudden appearance, but neither appeared to feel the least bit uncomfortable. The fact that neither of them seemed to think they’d been doing anything wrong didn’t improve Tomlinson’s mood in the slightest.

McCormack hitting on a switch was wrong. Dan even thinking about playing out a scene with a dom as unsuitable for him as McCormack was wrong.

“I’m not available?” Dan asked.

“No, you’re not. You’re working.”

Dan glanced over his shoulder toward where the shift roster hung on the wall behind the bar. It was too far away for either of them to be able to read it, but Tomlinson knew damn well that Dan’s name wasn’t down for the following day.

“You said you wanted more shifts,” Tomlinson reminded him.

“I did…” Dan acknowledged.

McCormack picked his beer up off the bar. Before he walked away, he said something about arranging to meet up with Dan some other time.

Tomlinson didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look away from Dan, but if McCormack thought that he was going to find an evening when Dan wasn’t working, he was going to have a bloody long wait in store.

Dan nodded to McCormack, but quickly turned his complete attention to Tomlinson.

“Is someone ill?”

“What?”

“Mr Lewis said that he’d assigned all the shifts for the rest of the month. That I was out of luck unless someone called in sick.”

Tomlinson shook his head. “It’s not bar work.” That wouldn’t keep him away from McCormack—or from any of the other doms who would undoubtedly be sniffing around Dan if word about his interest in switching was spreading. “We’re re-doing some of the playrooms, but we need to sort out everything we’ve got in storage in the basement first. Is that a problem?”

Dan shook his head. “No problem at all. If it pays, then whatever work you’ve got is fine with me.”

Tomlinson nodded, quite happy to pay Dan out of his own pocket if necessary.

Dan remained silent. For several seconds, they just stared at each other. Finally, Tomlinson realised that Dan had to be wondering why the hell he was just standing by the bar like an idiot.

Because I just found out you’re a switch, and that I might have a chance with you, would probably be a bad answer. “Same hours as your normal shift,” he said instead.

Dan nodded. “Works for me.”

Tomlinson turned on his heel and strode out of the room. He didn’t look over his shoulder to check if Dan was watching him go, but only because he had far too much pride to risk getting caught doing that.

He was halfway across the club when he spotted McCormack at one of the stations in the biggest of the public playrooms, tying up an older sub who’d been a regular at the club for years. He was the kind of sub McCormack was perfect for—tough, experienced and completely confident in his submission.

Tomlinson paused a yard or two away from the play area. With McCormack’s focus on someone other than Dan, Tomlinson found that he was once more able to watch him work without any concern for anyone’s safety and great appreciation for McCormack’s skill as a rigger.

“Expecting a good show or predicting a problem?”

Tomlinson didn’t bother looking over his shoulder. He’d been business partners with Steve Lewis for over twenty years now. He knew his voice better than any man he’d ever played with—and his sense of timing, too.

Was McCormack going to be a problem, Tomlinson wondered? No—not if he kept his attention on guys other than Dan.

“I’m starting work on the basement tomorrow night,” Tomlinson said.

He felt Lewis staring at him, waiting for some sort of explanation. Well, sod that. He didn’t have to explain every single decision to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lewis shrug. “Whatever percs your coffee. Rather you than me.”

“I told Dan he could help me—since he’s looking for extra shifts.”

“He wouldn’t be my first choice.”

Tomlinson glanced briefly at his business partner before quickly turning his attention back to the scene unfolding in front of them. Lewis had sounded like he was talking about moving heavy bits of kit around in dusty spaces, but that had never meant a lot with him.

Five years older than Tomlinson, and even more experienced with leather, Lewis still had the annoying ability to make Tomlinson feel like he was a newbie who’d yet to break in his first whip.

“Well, it should at least keep Dan out of trouble for a while,” Lewis allowed.

“That’s what I thought,” Tomlinson said, aiming for a bored tone of voice but not sure he managed to hit quite the right note.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Lewis said, as he turned away.

“Talk about giving a man a lot of scope,” Tomlinson muttered under his breath.

Lewis chuckled as he walked off. Even if he hadn’t heard what Tomlinson had said, he’d known him long enough to know what his response to that kind of advice would be.

As he watched McCormack tie another knot in the rope binding the sub, it was easy for Tomlinson to switch the two men out of the picture and put himself and Dan in their place.

An evening spent in a cluttered basement wouldn’t be the same as an evening spent at a play station, but it was hard to ignore the fact that there were a hell of a lot of bits of bondage equipment in storage down there. It probably wouldn’t be hard to find something he could use to tie up Dan, if the need arose.

* * * * *

“Where do you want me?”

Tomlinson looked up to see Dan standing in the storeroom doorway.

When he was working behind the bar, Dan always dressed to blend in with the doms visiting the club. Being informed that he was going to be playing the part of storeroom re-arranger had resulted in an unexpected change of wardrobe.

His leather trousers had vanished in favour of a pair of old, paint-splattered blue jeans. His usual high lace-up boots were gone—replaced by trainers that looked as if they might fall apart any second. His T-shirt was just as paint-splattered as his jeans, and had been washed so many times that it was practically transparent.

The more civilised parts of Tomlinson’s brain knew that Dan had dressed appropriately to work hard in a place that might well be grubby. The more primal side of him was just aware that Dan appeared both hotter and a hundred times more vulnerable than he’d ever seen him look before.

Even his hair was different. Dan always wore his hair slicked back to work in the club, but he hadn’t bothered that night. His hair was longer on top than Tomlinson had realised—long enough for a man to take a good grip on in the right circumstances.

Tomlinson’s cock hardened behind his own leather trousers. Where did he want Dan? Pushed up against the nearest wall with his jeans down around his knees—that would work for him.

Apparently giving up on waiting for an answer, Dan turned toward the boxes stacked to his left.

“I want you in the cage,” Tomlinson corrected.

Dan turned to face him, his expression frozen and unreadable, as if he wasn’t sure how to react.

“Why?” Dan finally asked. His tone of voice seemed to be pitched very carefully—like a man testing unexpectedly dangerous waters—like a switch that had yet to be flipped either way. Any doubts Tomlinson had about which ways Dan had the potential to swing vanished in that moment.

“There are boxes stacked behind the cage. We can’t get to them without moving the cage. And we can’t move the cage until you empty it,” Tomlinson said, keeping his voice just as neutral as Dan had.

Dan maintained eye contact for several seconds before he glanced past Tomlinson and into the seven-foot tall cage set up near the back of the room.

Tomlinson didn’t follow his gaze. He already knew what the cage looked like. Dan presented a far more erotic view.

Finally, Dan nodded his willingness to accept both the order and the explanation. “Do you want them moved to anywhere in particular?”

Tomlinson pointed toward the bondage table on the other side of the room. “You can stack some of them on that for the moment. It’s unlikely we’ll want to use it any time soon.”

*

Don’t you like the idea of me bound to that table, entirely at your mercy?

Dan kept the question back, but it took far more self-control than it should have.

This was reality now, not a fantasy, he reminded himself. Logic applied. Common sense applied. Rules applied. And flirting with Mr Tomlinson would be against all of his own, self-imposed rules.

As his mind raced in circles, Dan walked over to the cage. His pulse quickened as he got closer to it. Cages had always pressed his buttons, damn it, and this particular cage was larger than any he’d played with from either side of the equation.

It was huge and had obviously been designed to be capable of housing several subs at the same time. Or one sub for a very long time, some unhelpful part of his brain pointed out. Not a fantasy, he reminded himself again.

The cardboard boxes were stacked in the back corner. There was no way to get them out without stepping into the cage.

Dan took a deep breath.

It was no big deal.

There was no need to get freaked out. There was no need to get turned on either. He could do that later, once he got reality over and done with. Later, when he was on his own, back in his flat, then day-dreams could once more take the lead and he could get as turned on as he liked. But not now.

For now, they were just two guys working together on a job. Just an employer and an employee. Just two doms—more or less.

Dan stepped into the cage, picked up a box and hurried out. Feeling far calmer once he was back on the free side of the bars, he carried the box across to the other side of the storeroom and set it down.

Mr Tomlinson watched his every move.

Even though Dan knew he wasn’t doing anything the least bit erotic, he couldn’t help but feel like he was putting on a show. Bloody hell, if Mr Tomlinson was going to watch him like that all evening, Dan knew it would only be a matter of time before he came in his jeans—reality be damned.

Doing his best to ignore Mr Tomlinson and not let on that his mind was racing faster and faster, Dan kept working. He’d just stepped into the cage for the third time when metal clanged loudly against metal behind him.

Dan spun around, a protest rushing to his lips, but he stopped short when he saw the cage door was still open.

He turned his attention to where Mr Tomlinson had been standing last time he saw him, but he was gone. He was over by the bondage table now, sorting out the boxes. As Dan watched, Mr Tomlinson took a heavy set of shackles out of the box and dropped them alongside another set of equally bulky restraints. Metal clanged against metal once more.

Dan took a deep breath and shook his head at himself. At least his boss hadn’t seen him making a fool of himself. That was something to be thankful for. The last thing he wanted to do was convince Mr Tomlinson that he was either insane or a pest who never deserved another chance to pick up an extra shift.

Yes, that was a good thing to focus on. Extra shifts. Extra money. Professionalism.

As Dan carried the next box across the room, something inside it rattled. It sounded like glass.

Mr Tomlinson looked up when Dan set it gently on the bench, and frowned when the contents rattled again.

“Check what’s in it.”

That was an order to an employee, not a command to someone who Mr Tomlinson considered to be his sub, or even a sub at all, Dan reminded himself. It wasn’t a particularly effective tactic. His mind was all over the place. He had no idea if he was coming or going—working or playing—hanging on to reality or giving in to fantasy.

He opened the box and peered inside.

“Well?” Mr Tomlinson prompted.

Dan lifted up a glass jar filled with what looked like dried peas.

“Cat got your tongue?” Mr Tomlinson pushed.

Dan leaned over the box and looked through the contents in the hope that something in there would let him quickly identify what kink the box related to. He lifted out another jar, which looked like it contained flour. There was another one that contained a mixture of red and blue marbles. A smaller container held about a dozen different coins. There were a couple of metal trays in there too. They did as little to help Dan identify the kink as the jars had.

Down the side of the box he found a sign on a length of string. On one side, it said Punishment in progress.

“Dan?” Mr Tomlinson asked again.

Dan looked at the flour and the dried peas. “Recipe for the worst cake in creation?” he offered, with a smile.

“A simple—I don’t know, sir—is a perfectly acceptable answer,” Mr Tomlinson corrected. He looked up from the box he’d been inspecting and stared at Dan through narrowed eyes.

A shiver ran down Dan’s spine. Mr Tomlinson had never used that tone with him before—not in the real world.

“I don’t know,” Dan replied, stopping just short of calling Mr Tomlinson sir, mostly to see what Mr Tomlinson would do about that.

“It’s a corner time box,” Mr Tomlinson said, without showing any sign of noticing the honorific had been left off. “Haven’t you ever been sent to the corner as punishment?”

“Who would send a dom to a corner?” Dan shot back, more than half out of habit rather than any continuing sort of survival instinct.

“Any man who runs a leather club will have been tempted to hundreds of times. It’s worse than babysitting hyped-up toddlers.”

Dan smiled, as charmed by Mr Tomlinson’s annoyance with the world as he had always been. “And this stuff, what? Makes corner time worse?”

“More painful, more effective, easier to police.” Mr Tomlinson picked up the jar of flour. “Get a sub in position, then toss some of this on the floor around his feet. He can’t move without disturbing the flour. No need to watch him. You can leave him alone in the room for hours and still know if he’s been obedient when you come back.”

As Dan stared at the jar, it was so easy to imagine himself in that position. Alone, trapped, knowing that his master would be disappointed in him if he so much as shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

It took him far too long to realise that Mr Tomlinson was still waiting for a reply. Dan cleared his throat. “It doesn’t sound like the most interesting punishment ever devised.”

“It’s not supposed to be interesting. It’s supposed to teach you to not want to make the same mistake again.”

Dan swallowed. “What makes you think I was talking about it from the sub’s point of view? I meant that I prefer to dish out punishments that—”

“This one is more physical than psychological,” Mr Tomlinson cut in, picking up the jar of dried peas.

Dan glanced up and met Mr Tomlinson’s eyes. “What would I do with them?” he asked, turning his attention to the new jar.

“You’d kneel on them for as long as your dom demanded. Unless you’re still pretending that you’re only interested in playing the dominant role?”

Dan jerked his gaze back up. “I’ve never needed to pretend to enjoy dominance.”

“But you’ve never needed to pretend to enjoy submission either,” Mr Tomlinson added, with complete confidence. “You are a switch, aren’t you?”

Dan’s hand gripped the edge of the box more tightly. “Who told you that?”

“I pegged you as a sub the first time we met, at your job interview. But you’d put down dom on your application form. I’ve seen you play in the club and you obviously weren’t lying about being an experienced dom. So, the only explanation that makes sense is that you’re a switch.”

Dan shrugged off his discomfort with that observation and turned his attention back to the original question. “Yeah, I’ve been known to switch. I’ve subbed to other guys in the past, sure.”

“But not in the present?” Mr Tomlinson asked.

Dan shook his head. “No. I’m not looking for that. Not anymore.”

“Bad experience?” There was a touch more caution in his voice, a note of gentleness that Dan hadn’t heard before.

Dan shook his head again. “Not particularly.”

“Are you sure about that?” If anything, his voice gentled further, and Dan clicked what Mr Tomlinson was really asking him about.

“Nothing like that,” Dan said. He met Mr Tomlinson’s eyes as he said it, not wanting him to have any doubt that it was the truth. “No one screwed me over. No one ignored a limit or a safe word. I just…” Dan thought back. “I guess the more experience I got as a dom, the harder I found it to submit to other guys. After a while, I realised that I wasn’t really subbing to anyone anymore. I was just going through the motions, faking it.” He took a deep breath as the f-word brought back a whole host of memories. “I still wanted it. The fantasy was still hot. But the reality…” Dan shrugged.

For a few minutes, they sorted through boxes in silence. Dan wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen next. If real life had been inclined to be as straight forward as any of his favourite daydreams, he’d already be on his knees with his lips wrapped around Mr Tomlinson’s cock—preferably while he was on the other side of the bars of the cage, begging for his freedom as he worshiped Mr Tomlinson’s dick.

Dan glanced across at the jail-like enclosure. He was pretty sure he was going to spend a great chunk of time considering each and every possibility offered by that cage over the next few day or weeks. He smiled slightly to himself as he assessed the possibilities. Forget days and weeks, that set up could probably keep his imagined version of submission going for months.

“Are they hot?”

Dan blinked, wondering if he’d missed something important while he’d been distracted. “What?”

“The fantasies you have about subbing to me—are they hot?”

Scorching.

By the time Dan realised he really had to say something out loud in response, it was too late for any kind of denial to be believable.

He met Mr Tomlinson’s gaze and held it. “Yes, they’re really hot.”

Mr Tomlinson smiled slightly, but kept sorting through the box he was working on as if the answer was no more or less what he expected.

Tell me about them?

Dan waited, impatiently, to hear that question hit the air. He had no idea what he would say in response to it. He knew that if he had any sense, he’d use any time he was being granted to construct an answer in advance. But, somehow, he just stood there, waiting, without a single useful process taking place inside his brain.

“Are you going to just stand there, or do you intend to do any more work tonight?”

Dan just continued to stare at him.

Mr Tomlinson raised an eyebrow. Straightening his stance, he folded his arms across his chest. It was a posture he often adopted. It suited him. Strong, simple, he wasn’t putting on a show for anyone, and that made him all the harder to ignore. Dan wondered if he knew that.

From the bottoms of his highly polished boots to his piercing blue eyes and the hair greying at his temples, he was every inch Dan’s ideal dom.

Rather than go toe to toe with him, Dan leaned one hip against the bondage table covered in boxes. He did his best to appear relaxed and at ease in his own skin, even if he felt scruffy and childish compared to his boss while dressed as he was.

“There are four boxes still waiting to be moved from inside the cage,” Mr Tomlinson said, his tone far milder than usual.

Dan hesitated, no longer able to even pretend relaxation. He wasn’t sure there was a good way to find out that Mr Tomlinson wasn’t interested in him, but just after admitting that he had really hot fantasies about Mr Tomlinson was an incredibly bad one. Especially when they’d just started a shift where they’d be working alone with each other all evening.

Damn.

Finally, Dan’s body took over. He fetched another box from the cage. Peeking into it, he was able to quickly identify the contents as being related to pony play. He carried it across to Mr Tomlinson and paused for a moment in the hope that he’d be asked what it contained so he could make up for the lack of knowledge he’d displayed on the previous box.

Nothing. Typical.

Dan went back for the next box. Another quick glance inside. Candles. Wax play. Not only could he name it, he’d enjoyed doing it with subs dozens of times. He smiled slightly to himself, feeling his confidence gradually settle back in place.

Just two doms working alongside each other. Maybe they could compare notes on the different kind of wax play scenarios they’d enjoyed in the past.

Or maybe Mr Tomlinson could give him a very intimate live demonstration. Dan hesitated mid-step as images of being Mr Tomlinson’s sub mid wax play scene flashed through his mind—intense and vivid. His grip on the box slipped. It had barely gone an inch before Mr Tomlinson was right there in front of him, catching the weight of the box with one hand, and steadying Dan with the other hand.

“Any time you want to start paying attention to what you are doing, feel free.”

Yes, sir.

Dan bit the words back just in time. Unable to bring any other syllable to mind, he just nodded, mutely. At least Mr Tomlinson was back to his usual tone of voice.

He didn’t actually move until Mr Tomlinson stepped back and freed him to do so.

The next time he made his way back to the cage, he was thinking less about how hot it would be to be locked in there, and more about how relieved he was to be able to turn his back on Mr Tomlinson for a few minutes so he could at least try to compose himself.

Another box. Dan held his breath as he snuck a look inside.

Rope—coil after coil of it, all stored very neatly.

Not really his thing, but it only took his mind three seconds to come up with a scenario where he and Mr Tomlinson could have fun with it. Because, really, the fact that it wasn’t his thing would only make it hotter when Mr Tomlinson chose it and insisted they play with rope even though all the time it took to do those fiddly little knots would bore Dan to tears.

“Focus, Dan!” And his tone had swung all the way to pissed off now.

“Sorry.” Dan grabbed the box of rope and headed toward the bondage table.

“Not there.”

Dan stopped just as he was about to set it down.

“You can put the last two in the corner over there. I already know what’s in them.”

“You do?”

“Rope in the one you’re holding. Chains in the last one.” Busy sorting through one of the previous boxes, Mr Tomlinson didn’t even look up. “I’m the one who put those two in storage.”

Dan put the box where ordered—and it did feel like he was getting the orders a man would give a sub rather than the instructions an employer would give an employee now. Then he headed back for the last box.

Chains, just as Mr Tomlinson had said.

He’d be the kind of dom who remembered every little thing about his sub—what he hated, what he loved, what would make him whimper, what would make him beg.

“Pick up the box and start moving, Dan.”

Dan snapped back to it.

And that seemed to be the turning point, the moment where Mr Tomlinson officially gave up on Dan doing anything that involved the slightest bit of free thought or initiative. Each little move required another order. Gentle. Impatient. Rough. Mr Tomlinson’s tone seemed to change dramatically with each tiny alteration in his mood. It was impossible to predict what his next order would sound like.

The logical part of Dan’s mind told him that he should be trying to work out what kind of actions led to pleased tones, but his dick loved the rougher, impatient orders too much to want to eliminate them completely.

Strict and pissed off was a good attitude for Mr Tomlinson.

The only one Dan really wanted to avoid was the disappointed one. He’d only heard it once, and it was so subtle that he wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that it was what he had heard. But it had been close enough to make him want to avoid hearing it ever again.

Dan set down a box and took a deep breath. He’d gone around the room in circles, moving things about, so many times, it was a wonder he wasn’t dizzy. That thought barely had time to make its way through his head before the world spun around him.

Dan’s back hit the wall. Any breath he’d managed to catch rushed out of him. It didn’t even occur to him to struggle.

For several moments, they just stood there. Dan was breathing hard and fast, as if fight or flight might take over from freeze at any moment. Mr Tomlinson, by contrast, breathed like someone who did all those posh yoga exercises—so calm, his breaths were almost hypnotic once Dan started to focus on them.

It took huge amounts of self-control for Dan to be able to look up and meet Mr Tomlinson’s gaze.

It would be so much easier if Mr Tomlinson would break the silence, but Dan had the feeling that they could stand there all day. Only one of them was going to crack first and it wasn’t Mr Tomlinson.

Dan swallowed rapidly in an effort to clear his throat so he’d sound at least vaguely sane when he spoke.

“I thought you didn’t play when you were working?” Dan aimed for strong, confident and light hearted, but the words that hit the air were whisper soft and undeniably serious.

“It’s our break.”

That! That was the tone Dan had been aiming for. Mr Tomlinson hit it perfectly.

For several seconds, Dan held Mr Tomlinson’s gaze. It seemed to Dan that he wasn’t the only man who’d switched that day. Mr Tomlinson had gone from club owner to dom who didn’t give a damn about what happened in any part of the club except the bit directly in front of him. It was Jekyll and Hyde, but with leather.

“Your safe word is switch. Repeat it back to me.”

Dan silently stared at Mr Tomlinson, trying to remember how the Jekyll and Hyde book went. He couldn’t remember the details, but he was pretty sure it ended badly. Although it probably didn’t have much leather in it. The leather would change everything—hopefully.

Some little part of Dan that had more survival instinct than the rest poked at the back of his mind, telling him that there was an order in place that he hadn’t followed yet, and now was not the time for literary day-dreaming. Unfortunately, it ran into the part of his brain that was kind of curious how Mr Tomlinson would react to disobedience.

One of Mr Tomlinson’s hands was on Dan’s shoulder, pinning him against the wall. Now Mr Tomlinson brought his other hand to rest on Dan too—but not on his shoulder.

Dan jerked against the wall as Mr Tomlinson grabbed his crotch. It wasn’t a gentle touch from the start and it only became harsher as the seconds ticked past.

The hand on Dan’s shoulder was just about him staying in position. It was quite easy to ignore, since he had no desire to move. The one on his balls, not so much.

Dan gritted his teeth. He tried to think about anything and everything other than the pain radiating from his crotch as Mr Tomlinson tightened his grip.

No one could maintain a strangle-hold that fierce forever—any dom he’d ever played with would have released him within ten seconds. That timeframe came and went. Mr Tomlinson didn’t even blink.

Sweat broke out across Dan’s skin. Pain radiated out from his nuts and seemed to fill his whole body. He tightened his own hands into fists at his sides, but it didn’t even occur to him to push Mr Tomlinson’s hand away from his fly.

For the first time, in as long as he could remember, Dan realised he wasn’t going to win a stand-off with a dom.

“Switch,” he bit out.

Mr Tomlinson instantly released his death-grip on Dan’s sac.

Dan dropped his head back against the wall and took a deep breath.

Mr Tomlinson might have stopped torturing Dan’s testicles, but he didn’t remove his hand from his crotch altogether. He cupped Dan’s cock and balls through the thin denim and gently rubbed, as if trying to soothe the pain he’d just caused.

“Good boy.” Such a perfect tone. The words went to Dan’s dick just as quickly as Mr Tomlinson’s touch.

Dan met his gaze.

“If I tell you to remind me what your safe word is, I expect you to do as you’re told.”

Dan nodded.

“The answer you’re looking for is—yes, sir,” Mr Tomlinson corrected.

Dan swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

Mr Tomlinson smiled his approval. His hand was still on Dan’s balls. As the pain gradually dissipated, his cock started to harden. It became more and more difficult for Dan to convince himself not to rock his hips and hump Mr Tomlinson’s palm.

Pleasure tingled through Dan’s veins.

Suddenly, Mr Tomlinson took his hand away.

“I didn’t invite you to come here to play. You’re here to work, and break time is over.”

Dan stared at him in amazement as Mr Tomlinson turned his back on him and began to sort through boxes again.

Dan remained where he was, trying to wrap his mind around the idea that his glimpse of perfection was over.

A minute passed. Mr Tomlinson turned to Dan. “Well?”

“Are you saying play time is over for good, or just temporarily?” Dan asked. “Sir?”

“I expect you to concentrate on your work when you’re working.”

“What about after my shift has ended?” Dan asked, finally pulling himself together enough to step away from the wall.

“Tonight, I have other commitments.”

Dan tensed.

Mr Tomlinson chuckled. “No, not with another sub—or with a switch, either. Imagine less leather and far more boring paperwork. You’re scheduled to work behind the bar tomorrow, aren’t you?”

Dan relaxed slightly “Yes, sir.”

“After your shift tomorrow. After we close up, then we can play.”

Dan considered his options. They seemed to be annoyingly limited. He wasn’t in control here. “Yes, sir,” seemed to be the best course of action.

“Until then, I expect you to remember who you’re submitting to—and who you’re playing with full stop. No other guys between now and then.”

It wasn’t as if it was going to be six months until they set eyes on each other. A little over twenty-four hours – most of which he would spend working or sleeping – wasn’t a huge commitment to monogamy, but being thrown back into the sub role so suddenly made it feel significant out of all proportion. Dan had to swallow and clear his throat before he could answer. “Yes, sir.”

Chapter Two

“Have you lost your mind as well as your trousers?”

Dan bit back a grin. “You don’t like my kilt?” he asked, bending over to pick up another crate of beer bottles.

He half-straightened up, but when he went to step back, he found his way blocked by a solid wall of Mr Tomlinson.

“You’ve never worn a kilt to work before. You don’t usually work shirtless, either.” They were statements, not questions. Someone had obviously been paying attention to his wardrobe for quite some time. That was reassuring.

Dan tried to turn around, but Mr Tomlinson refused to back off and give him any room to manoeuvre. He was stuck.

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer,” Mr Tomlinson growled, leaning forward so his lips were just an inch from Dan’s ear.

A shiver ran down Dan’s spine. He could feel the heat from Mr Tomlinson’s body against his bare back.

As Dan failed to answer, Mr Tomlinson leaned closer still. Dan felt every muscle in Mr Tomlinson’s body through the man’s T-shirt. He could also feel Mr Tomlinson’s crotch pressing against the back of his kilt. “Dan…” The warning note went straight to Dan’s cock.

“I didn’t lose my trousers or my mind,” Dan said. “But, since I’ve never had such interesting plans for after my shift behind the bar…”

“And you’re under the impression that, if you wanted to dress up for our scene, there was nowhere in the entire club where you could get changed at the end of your shift—the damn locker room, for instance?”

“I like to be ready for anything at any time,” Dan quipped.

Mr Tomlinson made a low, angry sound in the back of his throat. “You mean, you think I’ll let you miss part of your shift because your arse is so irresistible I can’t keep my hands off it when you should be working?”

Dan tried to turn around again. Mr Tomlinson still wouldn’t let him. Dan tried to bend forward so he could at least put the heavy create down, but Mr Tomlinson took a tight grip on his sides and wouldn’t allow that, either.

“It won’t work.” Mr Tomlinson snapped.

“Actually, the angles aren’t bad,” Dan said. “I could put the crate down, you could flip the back of my kilt up, and—”

“Enough,” Mr Tomlinson bit out. “You’re here to work. If I see you slack off for one second when you’re not on an official break, I will make you wish you’d never set foot in this club, let alone turned up here wearing a skirt.”

“It’s not a skirt,” Dan corrected, fighting with everything he had to keep his voice level and sounding flippant. “If I was wearing anything underneath it, then it would be a skirt.”

Mr Tomlinson didn’t say anything for a long time.

Dan’s arms were starting to ache from holding the crate at an awkward angle. His cock was aching too, even though the only thing it held up was some of the fabric at the front of his kilt.

“Get back to work, and remember what I said. One second where you’re not completely focused on your job and I’ll know.”

By the time Dan turned around, Mr Tomlinson was already stalking off. Dan watched him until he left the room. Mr Tomlinson hadn’t decided to change up his usual style in honour of their date. He was in his usual leather jeans, boots and T-shirt—which was good, because that was exactly how Dan liked him.

Now, to follow Mr Tomlinson’s orders, or to disobey them. Decisions, decisions. Slacking off—just a little bit, just enough to get Mr Tomlinson’s attention—was so tempting. Mr Tomlinson’s reaction would almost certainly be impressive. It might also prove to be quite painful, of course.

And maybe it would be just what he needed to either settle him into the sub role, or finally convince him that he’d be right to give it up entirely. God help him, but he still wasn’t sure which outcome to hope for.

As Dan stocked the shelves behind the bar, he worked on autopilot while his mind wandered off to enjoy various scenarios involving Mr Tomlinson punishing him, not for being a switch or a fake, but for being a brat.

The corner time thing didn’t sound like it would be a lot of fun, but it was always possible that Mr Tomlinson would put him in the basement cage instead. Earning his way out of the cage by servicing Mr Tomlinson’s cock through the bars would be hot.

Being bound to the bondage table in the main play room and paddled until his arse was bright red and Mr Tomlinson couldn’t resist topping him also appealed. The club would be empty after his shift, Mr Tomlinson would have the choice of every set up in the place.

So many different possibilities existed and, while Mr Tomlinson wasn’t the type to play in the club every evening, Dan had seen him do enough scenes to know that, whenever he was inclined to take control of another man, it was always impressive.

“Nice legs.”

Dan looked over his shoulder.

Marcus and Bret stood by the bar.

Dan turned toward them. “Thanks. You two playing tonight?”

Bret looked up at his master, so eager. He obviously had high hopes, even if he hadn’t been told what Marcus’s plans were. Tonight, Dan could sympathise.

“Maybe,” Marcus said, with a sideways glance at Bret. Tease.

Dan got them their drinks.

“So, are you a true Scotsman?” Bret asked. “Are you wearing anything under your kilt?”

Dan laughed as he went back to re-stocking. “You’d better up your game, Marcus, your sub is starting to take far too much interest in other guy’s dicks.”

Marcus shot something straight back at him, but Dan stopped listening when he saw Mr Tomlinson step into the room.

Would talking to an old friend while he worked be enough for Mr Tomlinson to accuse him of slacking off? It wasn’t as if Marcus wasn’t also a customer at the club. And Dan hadn’t actually stopped working at all.

But if all Mr Tomlinson actually wanted was an excuse…

“Is that kilt covering your ears?”

Dan blinked and glanced back toward Marcus. “What?”

“Hot date later?” Marcus guessed.

Dan couldn’t keep his smile back. “Blistering.”

“Anyone we know?” Bret asked, all too innocently.

“Nope,” Dan lied, smoothly, willing to be damned before he let Bret know anything about him and Mr Tomlinson. The last thing he needed was Bret’s particular form of help.

In an effort not to draw attention to Mr Tomlinson, Dan didn’t look in his direction again until Bret had left the room with Marcus. By the time it was safe to peek, Mr Tomlinson was gone. That was okay. A shiver ran down Dan’s spine as he remembered the way Mr Tomlinson had growled in ear. Their date would definitely be worth waiting for.

As he continued to stock and work the bar, other guys came up for drinks, or to chat. Apparently, there were a lot of kilt fans in that night, and a lot of curiosity as to what a man wore underneath one.

By the time his mid-shift break came around, Dan was starting to wonder if he should have worn a jock strap under his kilt. He’d been half hard for ages, and the friction between his kilt and his cock was moving from a turn-on to torture.

Dan adjusted his hard-on as best he could as he walked down the corridor in the staff area towards the back of the pub. Would it be worth tapping on Mr Tomlinson’s office door? If Mr Tomlinson was happy to see him, it could be fun. If Mr Tomlinson was the right kind of pissed off with him, it could be even better…

Dan chuckled, only slightly nervously, as he debated his options.

Maybe, if he—

A hand covered Dan’s mouth and pulled him backwards, tugging him off balance. Another hand came around his chest. Dan’s boots slipped against the smooth lino floor as he flailed. He couldn’t stop himself from being dragged backwards through a doorway.

Dan cursed, but the hand over his lips was an effective gag.

Someone kicked the door shut. The room went dark. Whoever had grabbed Dan, turned him around and pushed him away.

Dan had barely caught his balance before he heard a click and light flooded the room.

Storeroom, was the first thing that registered with Dan.

He turned around.

Mr Tomlinson.

“You know, sir, a simple meet me in the storeroom on your break would have been—”

“Far less fun?” Mr Tomlinson cut in.

Dan didn’t deny it. His dick was granite hard.

Mr Tomlinson stepped forward. Dan remained frozen to the spot. Stopping barely a foot in front of him, Mr Tomlinson ran his knuckle down the centre line of Dan’s bare chest.

Dan took a deep breath and did his best to relax into the scene. He closed his eyes. He could do this. It would be fine.

With his eyes shut, he couldn’t see what Mr Tomlinson was doing. He had no warning before he found himself bent over the old wooden table in the back of the room, his arm twisted up behind his back.

A sudden draft hinted that the back of his kilt had been flipped up. Dan peered at the wood work less than an inch from the corner of his eye. Apparently, he should take this as his cue that their scene had started in earnest.

Metal rubbed against his wrists. The familiar sound of handcuffs ratcheting closed hit the air. Oh, yes, they’d definitely started.

“Really playing the slut card today, aren’t you?” Mr Tomlinson demanded as he roughly manhandled Dan’s buttocks.

“By going commando? No, sir!” Dan forced a chuckle. “If I wanted to play slutty I’d have worn something red, lacy and crotch-less.”

Mr Tomlinson huffed. “There’s any easy cure for a guy who can’t keep his cock both covered up and under control while he’s at work.” As he spoke, he kicked Dan’s boots further apart and slid his hand between the cleft of his arse. His fingers pressed against the plug Dan had put in place before he started his shift.

“Cure, sir?”

Mr Tomlinson ignored the question in favour of tugging at the base of the plug before letting it slide back into place.

Dan moaned, helplessly rocking his hips as Mr Tomlinson repeatedly pulled the toy out until the widest part of it stretched Dan’s hole wide open, then let it slide back in.

Finally, he took the plug away altogether.

Dan squirmed, now completely confident that Mr Tomlinson’s cure for his sluttiness would involve having a cock in his arse within the next five seconds. He’d been generous with the lube when he put the plug in place. He was as prepared and ready as any man could be. All Mr Tomlinson would have to do is roll on a condom and they’d be ready to—

“What are you—?” Dan tried to peer over his shoulder as Mr Tomlinson suddenly pulled him upright.

Before he had a chance to finish his question, he found himself spun around and pushed back onto the table, on his back this time.

That was fine. Mr Tomlinson wanted to screw him face to face. No problem. His hands were still cuffed behind him and were now trapped awkwardly behind his spine. Not the most comfortable of arrangements, but Dan wasn’t going to complain.

When Mr Tomlinson flipped his kilt up, Dan willingly pulled his legs up and rendered himself completely accessible.

Right on cue, Mr Tomlinson stepped forward. His crotch pressed against Dan’s arse, but for some stupid reason Mr Tomlinson hadn’t undone his fly yet.

Dan groaned, dropping his head back and banging it on the table. Squirming on the table top, he managed to rub his buttocks against the front of Mr Tomlinson’s trousers in invitation, but that was all he could do.

*

Tomlinson stared down at Dan, more than happy to admire the view as Dan twisted and writhed in an attempt to get what he wanted. But, if Dan really thought he’d get his own way that easily, he’d obviously been playing with the wrong kind of dom whenever he subbed in the past. No wonder he’d found it hard to really submit to them.

“Ice or tawse?” Tomlinson asked.

Dan didn’t answer.

“This is the only time I’m going to repeat a question tonight, Dan. Make the most of it. Ice or tawse?”

Dan blinked up at him. He’d heard the question, but his focus had obviously wandered away from where it should have been. He didn’t rush to answer.

Tomlinson raised an eyebrow. Perhaps if Dan had been a newbie it would have been different, but from everything he’d said, Dan should have passed over that part of the learning curve a long time ago.

Taking a small bag of ice from the shelf where he’d placed it in advance, Tomlinson dropped it on Dan’s crotch.

Dan jerked, tugging at his bondage as he let out a high, keening noise. Tomlinson put his hand on top of the ice pack so Dan’s wriggling wouldn’t dislodge it before he wanted to take it away, but the cold had already done its job and killed Dan’s erection. Perfect. He kept it there another thirty seconds just to make his point, before putting it back on the shelf.

Tomlinson retrieved the cock cage from the spot next to the ice. By the time he turned back to him, Dan had managed to pull his cuffed hands far enough up behind him to be able to support himself on his elbows.

Tomlinson smiled. If Dan wanted a good view while he was put into chastity, then that suited his plans perfectly. Let him see every detail as his cock was locked away.

Placing the cage on the flipped up part of Dan’s kilt, Tomlinson inspected the silver ring through Dan’s Prince Albert piercing. It obviously wasn’t a new addition. It had fully healed and was in great condition. It would take the padlock perfectly, and add a very nice layer of additional security.

“Sir?” Dan said.

“If you can’t keep your cock under control while you’re working, I’ll do it for you. If you’re good, I’ll let you take it off during our scene.”

Dan looked down at the cage.

Tomlinson half expected a protest, or perhaps some attempt at negotiation to leave Dan’s lips, but when he spoke he only uttered one word.

“Amber.”

Tomlinson froze. Their eyes met. Moving slowly, he placed his hand high up on Dan’s thigh—not groping him, or even caressing him—a simple, reassuring point of contact to let him know that there was someone there watching over him, and everything would be fine.

“Standard traffic lights?”

Dan nodded. His gaze assessing, his emotions hidden.

“Good boy,” Tomlinson said. “A chastity cage is a limit?” He pitched his tone carefully—no judgement, no disappointment—nothing that might make Dan regret trusting him.

Dan shook his head. “No, sir. It’s not a limit, not really.”

“But there’s something you need me know—that’s why you said amber instead of red or your actual safe word,” Tomlinson finished off for him, making sure understanding and acceptance touched every word.

Dan nodded. His expression still hadn’t changed. Tomlinson was acutely aware that the man before him wasn’t quite the same guy he’d seen behind the bar. If nothing else, he’d pushed past the dom side of Dan and had reached the sub he’d kept under wraps ever since he came to work at The Spread Eagle. And now, he could make or break the whole world if his reaction wasn’t exactly what Dan needed.

“Good,” he repeated. “Tell me what you need me to know.”

“I have no problem with being in chastity in a scene. It’s not a limit. But the scene is scheduled to start after my shift, not while I’m still at work.”

“You started something the moment you arrived here tonight,” Tomlinson corrected.

Dan didn’t deny it. Whatever had prompted him to act out to get his attention, it had obviously been at least partly conscious.

“If aspects of the scene start now, will you be able to finish your shift behind the bar?” Tomlinson asked.

Dan’s hesitation was unexpected. If anything, he’d have expected Dan to say something half-joking about being too distracted.

“That’s not the problem,” Dan said instead. “I can do my work in chastity. But maybe still feeling like a sub after you go back to your work…”

Tomlinson nodded his understanding as he put the pieces together. Dan had only submitted to guys within scenes.

That meant he’d never had anything that made him feel like a sub when he was outside of that scene and interacting with people other than the guy he was supposed to be submitting to. He’d be vulnerable until he knew how he’d react to that. He’d need someone to look out for him.

Add that to the nervousness he’d spotted in Dan at the end of his last shift, when he’d been prompted to make little more than twenty-four hours commitment to one dom, and it was easy to see how chastity outside a scene might freak him out.

“Good boy.” That was the most important thing to say—the thing that Dan had to know above all else. He was good for telling his dom what he needed him to know, that they may have hit or strayed close to one of his limits.

Dan still didn’t seem to have taken a deep breath.

“You have a choice,” Tomlinson told him as he rapidly circled through possibilities and weighed up different options. “You can ask me to leave the cage off and not start any part of the scene until after we both finish work tonight. That’s fine. You won’t be in trouble. I won’t be disappointed or think any less of you.”

Dan dipped his head, very slightly. It was obviously just an indication that he’d heard, not that he was choosing that option.

“Or you can ask me to put it on now, start this element of the scene now, and remain with you until your shift ends. That’s okay too.”

“Whichever you—”

Tomlinson caught hold of Dan’s chin. “If I tell you to choose it’s because I want you to make the decision.”

Dan swallowed. He remained silent for a long time, staring up at Tomlinson as if he was doing his damnedest to stare straight into his soul. Tomlinson didn’t know what Dan would see there. But he was sure that, while wearing the cage would be challenging for Dan, if Dan could just trust him enough to go with it, it would be a perfect first step towards getting his confidence back as a submissive.

“I’d like this part of the scene to start now. I’d like you to be there until the scene ends, sir.”

Tomlinson nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll do. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Anything else I need to know?”

Dan repeated his previous answer.

Tomlinson turned his attention back to the cock cage. The conversation had kept Dan nervous enough that he hadn’t hardened since the ice had forced him to soften. It only took a few moments to fix the silver cage in place and lock it with a small padlock that fastened through Dan’s piercing. Another moment had the butt-plug slicked with fresh lube and replaced.

Tomlinson stepped back. “Get up.”

Dan’s kilt fell down over his crotch as he wriggled off the table top and clumsily got to his feet, his hands still cuffed behind his back.

The cage created less of a bulge behind the fabric than Dan’s hard on had, and even if that hadn’t been the case, it was hard to think of a location where it could have been less of an issue. No one who drank at The Spread Eagle had any business getting shocked by an erection.

“Your break ended three minutes ago,” Tomlinson said, turning Dan around so he could undo his cuffs. “However, when we leave this room, you’re going to follow me to my office.”

Freed from that particular bit of bondage, Dan turned around—his enthusiasm for whatever he’d thought Tomlinson had planned for him was obvious.

“You’re going to wait outside my office while I fetch some paperwork. Then you can follow me to the bar and get back to your own work.”

Dan’s enthusiasm reduced dramatically, and he made no attempt to hide that, but the only thing he said was: “Yes, sir.”

“Any questions?”

Dan shook his head.

Tomlinson was tempted to think that he seemed a little more reserved than usual. He wondered if it was the chastity that brought out that side of his personality and kept it at the forefront. Or, maybe if it was the admission that he’d feel off balance submitting to a man who wasn’t there that had caused the change.

He turned away from Dan and left the storeroom without another word. He heard Dan quickly falling into step behind him, but he didn’t look over his shoulder.

Trust. That went both ways. He’d trust Dan to do as he was told, until something happened to make him think Dan needed some extra lessons in that.

Tomlinson went into his office and grabbed his laptop, the various invoices that needed to be put into the system, and a couple of other things. He was aware that Dan had paused in the doorway, just as he had been ordered to. Back out of the room, he once more trusted Dan to follow him.

In the main bar, he nodded once to Dan, freeing him from tracing his footsteps so he could get behind the bar and back to work. He watched Dan take up his post, before considering his own options.

There were a few stools empty at the far end of the bar. He took the one alongside the wall. As he set his laptop on the bar, he glanced up. Dan was serving someone a drink. He seemed to be able to work comfortably, not needing anything more than the knowledge that his dom was present to get on with things despite his cage.

Tomlinson took a deep breath, subtly adjusted his erection behind his fly and turned his attention back to his laptop. If Dan could concentrate and get his job done, there was no excuse for him not to be able to do the same.

* * * * *

“How come Mr Tomlinson’s working in here?”

Dan had been doing his best to avoid looking in Mr Tomlinson’s direction all evening, but he couldn’t resist using Bret’s question as an excuse to steal a glimpse. Mr Tomlinson was frowning at something on his laptop. Grumpy was a hot look on him.

“Dan?” Bret pushed.

It took all of Dan’s self-control to turn his attention back to Bret. “How should I know? He’s not the kind of guy who thinks he’s obliged to explain himself to his employees—or to his customers for that matter.” He kept his tone light, pitching it just right to dismiss any interest, but it wasn’t until he said it that he realised just how true the words felt to him.

He didn’t need to worry that Mr Tomlinson would need to tell anyone why he’d brought his laptop into the bar to work that night. Mr Tomlinson wasn’t answerable to anyone. It was a lovely quality in a dom.

“Who’s got you smiling like an idiot?”

Dan blinked as McCormack’s voice cut through his thoughts and pulled his attention to the part of the bar directly opposite him.

“Dan’s got a hot date later,” Bret answered, before Dan had a chance.

“Young blond guy, completely clueless, looks like a model, started coming around here a few weeks ago?” McCormack guessed. “I thought he’d be your type.”

“His name’s Tony,” Bret chipped in.

“No, not him,” Dan said, unable to keep back a chuckle.

“Who then?” Bret demanded.

“What? A bit of club gossip that you’re not aware of, brat?” Dan teased. “Marcus must be keeping you busy.”

“It’d be much better if he’d just keep him gagged,” McCormack grumbled.

“Just because you don’t know how to handle a sub with a voice of his own—” Bret began.

“If you were my sub I’d—”

“Less chatting, more working, Dan. Nobody’s paying you to stand around flirting with the customers.”

Dan turned to where Mr Tomlinson was sitting. He still looked grumpy. It was still a good look on him.

Bret and McCormack probably turned to look at Mr Tomlinson too, but it was impossible for Dan to drag his eyes away from Mr Tomlinson to check. As their eyes locked, Dan’s cock jerked in its cage.

It wasn’t exactly unknown for Mr Tomlinson to keep a tight leash on his employees—especially if he thought one was slacking off. The order could easily pass as one given to a dom who just happened to be employed by another dom, providing the person eavesdropping didn’t know any better.

Mr Tomlinson’s expression could pass as one belonging to a man who wasn’t enjoying the paperwork spread out in front of him too. Dan doubted anyone else saw the sudden glint of possessiveness in Mr Tomlinson’s eyes. It was hidden away just as thoroughly as the cage under Dan’s kilt, and it was just as impossible for Dan to ignore.

“If there’s no one waiting to be served, there are plenty of tables to clear,” Mr Tomlinson added.

“No problem,” Dan said. He held Mr Tomlinson’s gaze as he answered without adding an honorific.

Mr Tomlinson nodded very slightly, as if acknowledging that he was fine with the honorific being dispensed with while Dan was working. But he also raised an eyebrow. “Get on with it then.”

Dan didn’t even glance at McCormack and Bret before he grabbed a tray and went off to obey the order. He felt Mr Tomlinson’s eyes on him every step of the way.

The guy was just doing what he said he’d do, keeping an eye on him while he was caged, just in case he freaked out. Part of Dan understood that Mr Tomlinson’s gaze probably wasn’t intended to make sure his cock remained pressed painfully against the inside of the cage. But, ever since the effects of the ice had worn off, his erection had been straining against metalwork, and Mr Tomlinson’s attention was only making him harder.

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” McCormack observed, with a nod in Mr Tomlinson’s direction, when Dan returned with the first tray of empty glasses.

“You could say that,” Dan hedged.

“I’m sure your date after work will make up for it,” Bret offered.

“McCormack, there have to be at least twenty un-collared subs wandering around the club by this time of night. Go and find one, and stop distracting my employees.” He paused for a beat. “And Bret, go and find your master before you get yourself into another scrape.”

This time, Dan didn’t turn to stare at Mr Tomlinson. He kept his focus on the glasses he was stacking and only glanced up when Bret handed his empty glass to him.

Bret’s amusement with someone other than himself being scolded was obvious, but he didn’t push his luck and try to stay at the bar and eavesdrop in the hopes of hearing Mr Tomlinson order any of the other doms in the club around. The idea of seeking out his master obviously appealed. Dan completely understood that inclination.

McCormack headed off a few moments later, but not at a speed where it looked like he’d been successfully dismissed and shooed out of the room. He looked as settled in his own tattoo-covered skin as ever.

As he watched McCormack leave, Dan couldn’t help but think it must make life very simple, to only be drawn to half the kinky equation.

“Eyes on your work, Dan.”

There was no one in ear-shot. And Dan couldn’t quite resist. “Yes, sir.”

He received another subtle nod in return before Mr Tomlinson turned most of his attention to his laptop. But only most of it. Dan was well aware that Mr Tomlinson was observing him every time he spoke to a customer, especially if that customer was a dom.

It was a good feeling, being watched over. But it wasn’t without its difficulties. It wasn’t long before Dan realised that not being allowed to have a full-blown conversation with anyone without feeling Mr Tomlinson’s eyes boring holes in his back was going to give him plenty of free time during his shift to think, to wonder, to worry.

Chapter Three

“Well?”

Dan looked up from the tray of empty glasses he’d just placed on the bar. “Sir?”

They were all alone now. The silence left behind after all the other customers and employees had left made the word sound very loud, but it felt very natural for him to use the honorific, not fake at all.

“If this is the first time you’ve taken your submission outside a scene, I’m guessing it was interesting.”

“Longest shift of my life,” Dan admitted. He chuckled at himself as he pushed his hand through his hair for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“Ever worn chastity before?” As he spoke, Mr Tomlinson left his place at the end of the bar.

“Not for this long.”

“Oh?” Mr Tomlinson stopped directly in front of Dan.

“Just during a scene, so I didn’t come when I was topped.”

Mr Tomlinson slid his hand up Dan’s kilt and pushed the fabric back so he could inspect the device.

“Can you come just from being topped?” Mr Tomlinson asked, conversationally. “Not all guys can.”

Dan watched as Mr Tomlinson ran his fingers over the cage. It took all he had not to push his hips forward in an instinctive attempt to hump the guy’s hand.

“Dan?”

Even after the prompt, it took him a few seconds to answer. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, yes, sir, I can.”

“That’s interesting to know.” Although his tone was still casual, Dan had the distinct feeling that Mr Tomlinson was filing the information away and intended to have a lot of fun with it in the future.

“What else did you discover during your shift?”

It would have been a hell of a lot easier to answer the question if Mr Tomlinson would have stopped playing with his caged cock while they chatted.

As Mr Tomlinson turned his attention to the Prince Albert piercing, Dan lost any ability to understand the question, let alone frame an answer. “Sir?”

“You weren’t sure how you’d react to other guys while you were caged,” Mr Tomlinson prompted. At the same time, he moved his hand down to Dan’s balls and began to roll them in his palm.

Dan’s cock pressed against the bars of the cage, harder than ever. It was all he could do not to squirm where he stood. Answering the question took more control that he would have ever thought possible, but he hauled his gaze up to Mr Tomlinson’s face and did his best.

“You mean did I feel submissive towards the other doms who came in here?”

“That would be a good place to start.” Mr Tomlinson moved to stand at Dan’s side and slid his free hand under the back of his kilt.

“No.”

Both of Mr Tomlinson’s hands stilled.

“No, sir. I’m not saying, no,” Dan rushed out. “I mean… I was answering the question. No, I didn’t feel submissive towards any of them. They were just guys I served drinks to—same as usual.”

“That’s good.” His hands started moving again. “What about the subs who came in?” He pressed firmly against the plug still lodged deep in Dan’s arse.

Dan bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a whimper. “Wasn’t thinking about them, sir. My head was full of this.”

“Do you usually think about the subs you serve drinks to when you’re working?”

Dan stared straight ahead, trying to work out where the conversation was going. Talking about what he did as a dom while submitting to another man felt both surreal and somewhat impolite—as if he was throwing the fact he was a switch rather than a real sub in Mr Tomlinson’s face.

Lie.

The word screamed in his head, loud as a survival instinct.

It never went well when a switch showed off that side of himself in a scene.

Lie.

A hasty glance toward Mr Tomlinson, a moment of eye contact, and words left Dan’s mouth. “Sometimes, sir, if they’re my type or it’s a slow shift, I wonder what a scene with them would be like.”

It was the truth, and Dan’s instinct for survival sucked.

“Lose the kilt.”

Dan wasn’t sure what he’d expected Mr Tomlinson to do when confronted by him being a switch, but the order threw him off balance.

It was only luck that his body took over without bothering to wait for his mind to issue any instructions. He looked down, watching his own hands as they deftly removed the kilt and tossed it on the barroom table a few feet to his left.

Mr Tomlinson started to circle him slowly. Occasionally, he would reach out and touch, but mostly he just looked.

Dan found a spot on the wall directly in front of him, and focused on it.

“What’s your type?” Mr Tomlinson asked, perfectly calmly.

“Sir?”

“What kind of sub do you like?”

And, obviously, Mr Tomlinson didn’t consider the conversation as over as Dan had hoped it was. The truth hadn’t gone badly before, but the topic seemed to be getting more dangerous by the minute.

“Inexperienced. I like to be the one to show him things for the first time.”

Staring into space was impossible now. When their eyes met, Mr Tomlinson nodded for him to continue.

While Mr Tomlinson’s expression gave away nothing, Dan was acutely aware that inexperience wasn’t something he had on his side. There were few things he hadn’t done in a scene—from either direction.

“Inexperienced, but confident in his submission,” Dan added. “At ease with wanting to hand over control to someone else. I like him to be able to relax into it and trust me to take it from there.” And since he was as tense as hell, and there was no way Mr Tomlinson had failed to spot that, he was now just listing things that he was blatantly incapable of offering a dom. Great.

“Good.”

The word didn’t sound sarcastic. He sounded quietly pleased.

Dan itched to ask Mr Tomlinson what his type was. Maybe that was it. Maybe he didn’t care that Dan didn’t fit the type he’d just described because his tastes were different. Maybe he had a weird kink for fakes.

“Hands on the table.”

Dan placed his palms flat on the table, either side of his discarded kilt. When Mr Tomlinson tapped his boot against the inside of Dan’s ankles, he got the hint and spread his legs further apart.

Conversation over—thank you God! Scene starting in earnest—even better!

He waited impatiently to feel Mr Tomlinson’s hands on him, to feel… Dan looked over his shoulder… Feel Mr Tomlinson walk away?

No, that wasn’t right.

Dan’s stomach turned over as he watched Mr Tomlinson take several more steps away from him, heading towards the length of bar where he’d been working on his laptop.

Dan glanced down at his kilt. Maybe Mr Tomlinson was just being practical?

“I have lube and condoms with me, sir.”

“That’s nice.”

And obviously irrelevant to why Mr Tomlinson had left his side. It had been stupid to offer, tantamount to suggesting that he thought he was the one who was running the scene, that he was the dom. Damn it!

Dan glanced over his shoulder again.

“Eyes forward, stop squirming.”

Mr Tomlinson was getting something out of the briefcase he’d brought into the bar. He hadn’t even looked at Dan when he gave the order. There was no way he could know if Dan was slow to obey it or not, but there again, there was no logical way he could know that Dan wasn’t facing forwards to begin with.

Dan obeyed the command. Instinct said to look for a reflective surface so he could sneak a peek, to listen closely for any clues to what Mr Tomlinson was doing. Closing his eyes, Dan ignored both options and did his best to centre himself within his own head.

Relax. Give up control. He could do that. And if he couldn’t do it instantly, he could definitely fake it until he could make it happen, except even thinking the f-word had him more tense than ever.

One slow deep breath, then another. The air in the bar was cooler than in the real play areas of the club, but it was still warm enough for a man to be comfortable naked. Dan scrunched his toes up inside his boots, shifting his weight forward slightly. His palms were damp where they rested on the table. His cock pressed hard against the inside of the chastity cage.

A footstep sounded on the floor behind him. Dan held position.

“Good.”

Mr Tomlinson’s voice came from just behind Dan’s shoulder. The relief that he felt, just to be on the same side of the room as Mr Tomlinson, sent a shiver down his spine. The praise made him even more desperate to feel Mr Tomlinson’s cock in his arse.

Maybe the universe had decided to like him, because even as he thought it, Mr Tomlinson manipulated the plug Dan was wearing and started to remove it.

He’d been wearing it for so long, he felt empty and awkward the moment it left him.

Please don’t be a tease. Please don’t make me wait before you replace to plug with your cock. Dan repeated the prayer over and over inside his head, more than willing to take up a new religion if that was required.

He felt something press against his hole, but his relief was only momentary. The angle, the pressure, the shape—nothing was quite right. Instinct made him want to tense up, but he fought back against the inclination.

It wasn’t Mr Tomlinson’s cock sliding into him, but, whatever it was, Mr Tomlinson was in control of it. It was far easier to trust Mr Tomlinson than Dan would have expected—far easier than it had been when he’d tried to submit to other doms a few years earlier.

Whatever Mr Tomlinson was using on him was almost certainly some sort of toy, and it was bigger than the plug Dan had been wearing for most of the night. Closing his eyes, Dan tried to build up a mental picture of it. He felt like he was doing a reasonably good job with that, until Mr Tomlinson twisted it and it rubbed against his prostate.

Dan whimpered, dipped his head toward the table in front of him as he fought to keep his hips still when everything in him wanted him to ride the toy.

Take what you’re given. Don’t ask for more. Don’t try to take control. Dan bit down on the inside of his cheek.

Mr Tomlinson manipulated the toy again, pushing it deeper so it worked his prostate, before pulling it back slightly so the widest part of it stretched his hole. One final thrust in and Dan felt his hole close around a narrow section. It was a butt plug then. Okay, nothing to be scared of there.

“Straighten up.”

Dan did as he was told, folding his hands into tight fists so his nerves wouldn’t show. He kept his attention straight ahead until Mr Tomlinson pressed something against his closed fist.

He looked down as he opened his hand and accepted it. A small key.

Mr Tomlinson stepped up close behind Dan, so his erection pressed against Dan’s bare arse through Mr Tomlinson’s trousers. “I told you I’d let you take it off and give you the chance to come if you were good. You’ve been good. You have three minutes to get it off, not a second longer.”

Mr Tomlinson settled his hands on Dan’s hips, his grip tight and perfect.

“Yes, sir.”

Dan’s hands were clumsy. It had been a long time since he’d worn any kind of chastity, even longer since he’d put any on or taken it off himself.

Three minutes. He could do that. His hands weren’t perfectly steady, but they didn’t look as shaky as he’d feared they would.

The lock came off easily enough. The metal rings that connected everything together were more fiddly. And that was the moment when Mr Tomlinson rocked his hips, pushing forward against Dan’s arse.

Dan gasped, and dropped the lock he’d just removed.

*

The frustrated noise that Dan let out as the lock hit the floor went straight to Tomlinson’s dick. Biting back a chuckle, he pressed a kiss just below Dan’s ear. “Tick-tock, Dan.”

With his hands resting on Dan’s sides, Tomlinson felt Dan take a deep breath and let it out very slowly. It seemed to help. Dan’s fingers were a little steadier as he went back to work.

It was a finicky job, but Dan was doing better than he probably felt he was. Tomlinson caressed his way up and down Dan’s flanks, enjoying the way it made Dan shudder.

“Five,” he whispered in Dan’s ear. “Four… Three… Two…”

“Done, sir.”

“Good boy.” Tomlinson slid his palms down so they rested on Dan’s hipbones, his fingers temptingly close to Dan’s unrestrained cock. “Feel good to be freed?”

Dan nodded.

Tomlinson tightened his grip on him, reminding him that free was only a relative concept right then. He was free enough to get an erection, but he still needed Tomlinson’s permission to do anything with it.

Taking the chastity device from Dan’s unresisting hands, Tomlinson moved around him, and dropped it onto the table, alongside Dan’s discarded kilt.

“On your knees.”

Dan didn’t hesitate. He seemed to be making a particular point of not hesitating, as if there was some part of his nature that he had to fight against in order to do that.

Standing toe to toe they were about the same height. With Dan on his knees, that was irrelevant. Tomlinson ran his fingers through Dan’s hair. Dan had pushed his own hands through it so often that evening, whatever he’d used to style it was long gone. It looked more like it had when they were working in the basement than it usually did. Tugging gently on the strands, Tomlinson encouraged Dan to look up and look him in the eye.

He smiled to himself as their gazes locked, as pleased with Dan’s expression as he was with his position.

Dan seemed to relax a little, as if he’d had some doubt about whether Tomlinson would be satisfied with his submission.

Stroking his hand down the side of Dan’s face, Tomlinson brought his thumb to Dan’s lips and pushed against them.

Dan opened his mouth willingly enough. He sucked around Tomlinson’s thumb, running his tongue over his skin and welcoming it inside him. But there was a new question in his eyes now.

“I said we’d have sex. I never said it would be your arse I buried my cock in.”

Tomlinson could damn near see the gears whirling in Dan’s head as he tried to work out if he was teasing him. He obviously wanted anal, the only question now was if he was going to object to not getting what he wanted.

“Open your mouth wider.”

All credit to Dan, he still didn’t hesitate. His eyes remained locked with Tomlinson’s, his lips parted.

So perfect.

Taking his thumb from Dan’s mouth, Tomlinson pressed his fingers briefly against the underside of Dan’s chin, giving him permission to close his mouth, before he settled his hand on the back of Dan’s head.

“If you can come from being topped, you can come from this.” Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, Mr Tomlinson took out a small key fob and pressed a button on it.

Dan jolted forward. His eyes opened very wide as Tomlinson adjusted the vibrate function on the plug lodged in his arse. He rocked his hips, thrusting against the empty air.

“You have permission to come while you’re sucking me off, but you don’t have permission to touch yourself.”

“What about you, sir?” Dan’s voice was rough.

Tomlinson raised an eyebrow at the idea that he needed permission for anything at all.

Dan rapidly shook his head. “I mean, do I have permission to touch you, sir?”

“Yes.”

That one word was all Dan needed. His hands were on Tomlinson’s fly in a second. There was still a hint of nerves around the way his fingers shook, but there was no sign of hesitation or reluctance. He didn’t waste any time tugging Tomlinson’s jeans half way down his thighs.

Tomlinson felt like he’d been hard for half a lifetime. Knowing that Dan had been wearing chastity while working behind the bar, knowing the key to Dan’s cage was in his pocket—it had taken far more control than Tomlinson would ever admit to out loud, not to squirm on the bar stool.

Finally freed from the restrictive material, he had no doubt that it would be worth every second that he’d had to wait.

Wrapping one hand around the length of his erection, Dan leaned forward.

“There are condoms in my right-hand pocket,” Mr Tomlinson said. His voice didn’t betray him. Perfectly level, perfectly calm—a man in complete control of himself as well as the guy kneeling at his feet.

Dan paused with his lips just a breath away from Mr Tomlinson’s cock.

“Is that an order or an option, sir?”

“An option.”

The answer was barely past Tomlinson’s lips when Dan took him in his mouth for the first time. Dan was all wet heat and an apparent determination to bring his dom to his knees via the best blow job he knew how to give. Pushing forward, Dan took Tomlinson’s dick almost to the root in one movement.

Swallowing around his length, Dan kept Tomlinson’s dick deep inside his mouth, the head wrapped tight within the confines of his throat for several seconds.

It was a well-practiced and deeply accomplished move. If Tomlinson hadn’t been half-expecting a ploy like that from Dan, he might have tossed his head back and yelled his pleasure to the ceiling, but there had been something about Dan’s attitude that had warned him to be ready.

It wasn’t immediately obvious if Dan was trying to exert some kind of dominance over the situation, or if he was actually trying to prove how good a sub he could be.

Either way, it was unnecessary. Tomlinson pressed the remote on the plug, increasing the speed and switching it to a pulse mode.

Dan’s whole body jerked. He pulled back, and Tomlinson’s cock slipped from between his lips. He looked up at Tomlinson. His expression was filled with shock, but behind it all Tomlinson thought he spotted a little bit of disapproval and uncertainty too. So, the move had been all about Dan trying to take the opportunity to show his skills as a sub and hadn’t had anything to do with dominance.

Tomlinson held Dan’s gaze. “There’s no rush. I’ve waited a long time to get you on your knees. I won’t withdraw permission for you to come until you’ve finished sucking me off, so you can take your time.”

Dan dropped his gaze. So much uncertainty.

Sliding his hand under Dan’s chin, Tomlinson made him look up and meet his eyes. “Stop over thinking it—that’s not your job. Stop trying to work out what I want—I’m more than capable of telling you anything I want you to know. And stop trying to impress me.” Tomlinson ran his thumb over Dan’s lips. “I’m already impressed. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Both your hands stay on me.”

Dan hesitated.

Tomlinson chuckled and leaned back against the edge of the table. “I’m not saying I think you’ll try to jack off if I don’t keep track of your hands. But a lot of the time you spend with me will involve you having your hands restrained. You won’t have the opportunity to touch that often, so I suggest you make the most of it while you do.”

Dan wrapped one hand firmly around Tomlinson’s dick. After a moment’s hesitation, he brought his other hand to rest chastely on Tomlinson’s hip, just to steady himself as he leaned forward again.

Maybe it was because it was a while since he’d played as a sub. Or maybe, Dan was the kind of guy who always took a little time to relax into a new scene or with a new dom. Or maybe, he just needed his mind to be so full of sex he didn’t have any room for concerns regarding anything else in the world.

Dan had skill, but Tomlinson wasn’t interested in skill. He didn’t just want his dick in Dan’s mouth, he wanted to be lodged deep inside his mind, too. That was the really important aim. And he knew just how to achieve it.

There were a lot of different settings on the plug, and Dan had no way of seeing the remote where Tomlinson was holding it. Each time he changed the settings, Dan gasped around him.

By the third change in vibrations, his technique started to slip. The blow job became both clumsier and a hundred times more enthusiastic. Releasing his hold on Tomlinson’s cock, Dan slid both his hands around to grip Tomlinson’s arse, tugging him forward, demanding that Tomlinson take over all control and thrust into his eager mouth.

It was far too pretty a request to deny. Dan whimpered around the length of Tomlinson’s cock, trying to take him down to the root on every thrust. This time, it had nothing to do with showing off technique and seemed to be all about a visceral need to feel every single inch of his dom inside him.

Dan rocked his own hips in time with Tomlinson’s movements. There was nothing for him to thrust against, but he was obviously far past the point where he could understand that. He was all instinct, all need and submission.

Dan came first, his orgasm seeming to catch him off guard as Tomlinson ramped the vibrations on the plug up to full speed without warning.

Tomlinson started to pull away to give Dan a moment to breathe and himself a chance to admire the view, but he found himself stopped short. Dan’s grip on him kept him in place, with his cock buried in Dan’s mouth. Dan didn’t seem to care about his own pleasure at all, and he didn’t stop working Tomlinson’s dick for a second.

That was all it took to tip Tomlinson over the edge. He fully expected Dan to be taken as off guard as he was himself, but Dan swallowed every drop without the slightest hesitation.

It was another full minute before he finally pulled back slightly and let Tomlinson’s dick slip from between his lips.

Tomlinson took mercy on him then. The vibrations still whirling against Dan’s prostate had to be something like torture now. He turned the plug off with the remote and was rewarded with a relieved sigh from his submissive.

Slowly, each movement careful, like someone who was just drunk enough to know they would be clumsy if they didn’t take care, Dan sat back on his heels. As he took several deep breaths, Tomlinson stared down at him, wishing that he had a camera to capture the moment. He’d seen Dan play in the club dozens of times, but he’d never seen that perfect sense of peace in him before. He was beautiful.

Dan glanced up at him, before quickly lowering his eyes. Tomlinson followed his gaze.

While Dan had swallowed every drop of Tomlinson’s cum, most of his own cum had landed on the floor. But a little had fallen on one of Tomlinson’s boots.

Dan leaned forward without waiting for an order, or even an invitation, and lapped the cum from the highly polished leather with a few deft strokes of his tongue.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Tomlinson pulled Dan roughly to his feet. He demanded access to Dan’s mouth, and Dan didn’t try to deny him. The kiss was hard and fierce.

Dan’s lips were slightly swollen after the blow job. He moaned into Tomlinson’s mouth, as if the harsh kiss were taking him to breaking point, but his grip on Tomlinson’s waist was just as strong as Tomlinson’s hold on him.

“Good boy.” He whispered the words against Dan’s lips when their mouths were barely a breath apart and felt the little gasp of pleasure Dan let out in response.

As tempting as it would have been to take Dan out of the club and straight back to his own house, Tomlinson forced himself to be sensible. It was Dan’s first foray back into submission in a long time, he’d need to be eased back into it gradually.

Don’t ask for too much commitment. Don’t put pressure on him. Don’t tell him that he’s no longer allowed to play with anyone else.

So long as he didn’t demand too much too soon, Tomlinson knew he just might get everything he wanted.

*

“Here’s what’s going to happen next.”

Dan blinked at Mr Tomlinson but nodded that he was ready to hear his dom’s next orders.

“You’re going to put your kilt on, and clean up in here. I’m going to put my work back in my office. Then I’m going to drive you home.”

Dan nodded his agreement with that plan.

“You’re in no position to talk right now, but we can discuss anything or everything you want when you come into work tomorrow evening.”

Dan nodded again, then shook his head. “I’m not down to work tomorrow.” His brain was going slowly, but he did his best to push it into action. “I’m supposed to be meeting McCormack to—”

“Cancel.”

Dan was pretty sure it was his imagination, but for a moment he thought Mr Tomlinson looked just as surprised at the sharp order as Dan was.

Thinking back, Dan recalled that he and McCormack had arranged to meet up during the first half of his shift, before Mr Tomlinson had brought his work into the bar. So, Mr Tomlinson wouldn’t have over-heard that particular conversation. Still, there was no logical reason why Mr Tomlinson should be angry about it.

“Sir?”

“Cancel whatever plans you had with McCormack.” It must have been Dan’s imagination before, because Mr Tomlinson looked perfectly composed now. “You wanted extra shifts,” he reminded Dan. “And the basement still needs some attention.”

And that tone of voice hinted that it wasn’t just Dan’s organisational skills Mr Tomlinson intended to give a work out. Dan smiled to himself. He would have happily turned up to be ordered around while lugging heavy boxes, but the possibility that there might be some more erotic orders mixed in was an even better prospect.

While Mr Tomlinson collected his paperwork and took it back to his office, Dan quickly cleaned up the area where they’d played and put his kilt back on. He was still wearing the plug, but the chastity device rested on the table. He’d have to ask Mr Tomlinson about both toys when he returned to the room.

Unable to be idle, and not wanting to be caught blatantly fidgeting, Dan headed across the room and picked up his leather jacket from behind the bar. As he looked up, his gaze automatically came to rest on the exact spot where he’d sucked Mr Tomlinson off.

It was right in the middle of the room, where the attention of someone who worked behind the bar would instinctively settle. Every time he worked a shift in that room, that memory was going to be front and centre in his mind. Every time he served a drink in future, he was going to be hard and thinking about Mr Tomlinson.

Bastard.

Dan smiled to himself at the thought that Mr Tomlinson had chosen the location on purpose. The impact wasn’t in making the scene shocking or intense, it was in making it part of his thought process every damn day from there on. Dan wasn’t sure if it was a present or a twist of the knife, but either way, he had to admire the move.

All the best doms had a little bit of bastard in them.

Chapter Four

“Have you forgotten the way to the basement?”

Dan spun around. Mr Tomlinson’s tone of voice was enough to make him feel guilty, even when he’d done nothing wrong. He wasn’t sure if he loved or hated that fact.

Either way, he reminded himself that he was completely innocent and smiled down the corridor at his boss.

“I got here a bit early, so I thought I’d see if I could catch up with McCor—”

“No.”

Dan pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “No?”

“No. Since you’re here early, we’ll start early. Focus.”

“Yes, sir.” The honorific felt natural, real. Dan hadn’t even had to put any effort into remembering it.

Mr Tomlinson closed his office door behind him and headed for the stairs leading down to the cellars, and Dan hurried after him. He would have loved to have believed that Mr Tomlinson was simply as eager for them to be alone together as he was, but it didn’t quite feel like that.

There was an undercurrent that Dan couldn’t decode.

Maybe Mr Tomlinson was just having a bad day and that made him pissed off with the whole world, or maybe—

Dan’s back hit the wall before the basement door was even fully closed behind them.

So, impatient it was, and in the best possible way. Yes, the speed at which Mr Tomlinson took complete control of his mouth made it clear that he wasn’t angry, just as eager as Dan was.

Caught between a desire to just slump back against the wall and hand all control over to Mr Tomlinson and a desperate inclination to grab hold of him, pull him closer and get everything he could while he had the chance, Dan froze.

Mr Tomlinson slid his hand over the back of Dan’s jeans and pressed against the cleft between his cheeks.

Dan gasped, broke out of his trance and pushed his arse back against Mr Tomlinson’s hand.

“You wore the plug.”

Mr Tomlinson was stating a fact, not asking a question. Dan didn’t try to answer, he just dropped his head back against the wall and tried to catch his breath.

Mr Tomlinson leaned forward. His stubble scraped against Dan’s freshly shaved cheek as he put his lips to Dan’s ear. “That was a very good choice on your part. I approve.”

Dan smiled.

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the fact your shift just started.” He stepped back.

Dan stopped smiling. He had a horrible suspicion that Mr Tomlinson was serious. A nod from Mr Tomlinson towards the boxes that still needed to be sorted out confirmed it.

He was starting to understand how some subs ended up acting like brats whenever they weren’t in a full-blown scene. The inclination to have a temper tantrum was far stronger than anything he’d felt in his life. This had to be what Bret felt like all the time. He was probably just a nice sweet boy who had the misfortune to be submitting to a sadistic tease. Dan was quite inclined to hate Marcus on Bret’s behalf.

Crossing the basement, Dan started going through the boxes, trying not to let on how unenthusiastic he was about getting any actual work done that night. Despite his best efforts to put on a good show, Dan found his attention constantly wandering towards what it would be like if Mr Tomlinson decided to use the toys on him rather than just ordering him to catalogue them.

“Focus, Dan.”

Dan stopped staring with what he was pretty sure was acute longing at the selection of whips laid out along the bondage bench and met Mr Tomlinson’s eyes. It had been years since he’d felt a real whipping. Years. He’d been doing a good job at ignoring that need, right up until Mr Tomlinson called him on being a switch. Now, his back tingled, and he had to tighten his hand into a fist to stop himself reaching out for a whip and demanding that Mr Tomlinson put it to use on him.

“You could, sir,” Dan finally said. A suggestion, not a demand. Spoken calmly rather than yelled. That was good on both counts.

“No.”

Dan gritted his teeth. If Mr Tomlinson had been doing anything overt, perhaps it would have been easier to criticise him. But he was somehow managing to be a tease and drive Dan to distraction just by breathing, just by existing in the same room as him.

“Or something else, if you’re not in the mood for a whip, sir.”

“No.”

Dan bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe he was making a fool of himself. Maybe he’d been the only one who’d enjoyed their scene the previous night. Mr Tomlinson was used to guys who could fully commit to submission, who’d never enjoyed the other side of the coin, who’d never faked anything in their lives.

Maybe their scene had been too mild—maybe Mr Tomlinson had purposely made it mild because he didn’t think a switch could handle the real thing. Or maybe he’d been expecting Dan to react differently, more like a real sub.

Maybe Mr Tomlinson had no intention of playing another scene with him. Maybe the previous night had been his one shot and he’d screwed it up.

Freaking out about chastity when he’d had no real excuse for doing so. Being a brat at the start of his shift behind the bar. He should have been more formal, more overtly obedient. Damn it, even if he couldn’t be a real sub, he could have at least ticked a few more boxes, put on a better show of it. Better a fake than a failure.

He was a switch, but he wasn’t a god damned novice. He knew what submission looked like as well as any authentic sub. And he knew what a dom wanted better than any sub who’d never had any interest in dominance.

“Are you pissed off because you think I’m trying to take control?” The words were out before Dan could stop them.

Mr Tomlinson laughed. That was unexpected and did nothing to help Dan’s nerves. Turning away from the shackles he was inspecting, Mr Tomlinson faced Dan directly. “One—this is not me pissed off. Two—I’m well aware that you have no genuine interest in taking control of anything when we’re together. Three—I don’t let my staff play when they’re on the clock. I thought I’d been clear about that.”

Dan swallowed.

“In a scene, you focus on me. On shift, you focus on your work.” He turned back to what he’d been doing.

Dan licked his lips. “You’d probably be really unimpressed if I said I had to leave my shift early because of a sudden emergency, wouldn’t you?”

“Wanting to get laid isn’t an emergency.”

Dan had his doubts about that. The situation certainly felt like life and death.

“What if I were to quit my job here, just very temporarily, like just for the next hour or two? Or we could scrap the idea of this being a shift—scratch it off the days I’ll get paid for and—”

Mr Tomlinson picked up a gag from a whole box of them conveniently open next to him. Dan got the message and shut his mouth.

“So,” Mr Tomlinson mused. “You’re not here as someone who works at the club, you’re just a friend who’s helping me out without any desire for financial compensation.”

Dan was about to nod when he realised that wasn’t really true. He shook his head but, remembering the gag, he kept his mouth closed.

“You can speak,” Mr Tomlinson allowed.

“Not a friend helping out. More like a sub who’s doing as his dom says because he really likes doing that, sir?” The words didn’t hit the air as confidently as he would have liked, but they made Mr Tomlinson smile, and that definitely made them worth saying.

“What if the only orders your dom has for you tonight involve sorting out this space? What if you don’t find any of the orders even slightly erotic?”

Dan didn’t rush in with an easy answer. He had the feeling something glib was more likely to see him dismissed than to raise another chuckle. “I’ve been hard as a rock since I heard the first order. I like the orders—whatever they are. The idea that I’m doing this as your sub rather than your employee would make it even hotter, even if you only ever give me orders that would be acceptable from an employer. It’s…” Dan sighed. It was a damn sight easier to live it than to explain it, that’s what it was.

“Do you really think you’d find this evening less frustrating if you knew there was the possibility of us playing together, but no guarantee?” Mr Tomlinson crossed the room as he spoke. “Would a fifty-fifty chance of getting laid really improve your evening, Dan?”

Dan swallowed.

Placing his hand firmly in the centre of Dan’s chest, Mr Tomlinson pushed him back against the wall. Dan stared at his boss’s lips, waiting for the kiss that being shoved against the wall hopefully heralded. Nothing.

Mr Tomlinson just stood there, his palm on Dan’s chest the only point of contact between them. “Well?”

Dan blinked. “Fifty-fifty is a lot better than zero.”

“We could go up to the club and play up there—no need to sort out any junk or move any boxes. It would already be arranged perfectly for us.”

Dan met his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“There’s nothing you’d dislike about that plan?” Mr Tomlinson prompted.

“I have no problem playing in public.”

“I know, I’ve seen a fair number of your scenes.”

Dan swallowed. “I have no problem playing as a sub in public, sir,” he clarified. It would be fine. He could do that. No one would accuse him of being a fake.

Mr Tomlinson seemed to study him for a long time, as if assessing how genuine his answer was. “There would be a down side though, wouldn’t there?”

“No. I’m not ashamed of submitting in public!” Dan’s heart rate doubled, but he pushed forward regardless. “If anyone up there has a problem with me being a switch, that’s their problem, not mine.”

“True, but a public scene up stairs couldn’t involve that cage, could it?”

“I…” All the steam Dan had built up, all the momentum he’d expected to use while going up the stairs and making a big dramatic point about how he wasn’t in any way, shape, or form in the closet, almost had him falling flat on his face. “What?”

“You’re nowhere near as subtle as you think you are, Dan.” Mr Tomlinson ran his hand up and down the centre line of Dan’s chest, through his T-shirt. “You’ve been fascinated by that cage ever since you stepped foot in this room. Your breath catches in your throat every time I order you into it.”

“You—”

Mr Tomlinson laughed. “Did you really think it was a coincidence that you ended up going back and forth into it all the time?”

Dan nodded.

Mr Tomlinson’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Go back in there now.” He took half a step back to give him room to pass.

Dan now had a direct line of sight from the wall he leaned against, to the door of the cage. He really should have kept a little of that momentum from earlier, because he now found himself locked in place.

Mr Tomlinson shifted his weight and relaxed casually against the wall alongside Dan. He didn’t rush, he didn’t shove Dan forward. He just waited. Bastard.

The cage had been completely emptied ready to be taken apart and moved, but not a single piece had been dismantled so far. Dan had expected to have been given that job any moment. It had surprised him that Mr Tomlinson hadn’t issued that order right at the start of his shift. Now, the delay made perfect sense.

Dan stepped forward. Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the far side of the cage, he stepped over the threshold and into the enclosure. He stopped in the exact centre of the space and took a deep breath.

Calm. Genuine. He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself.

The sudden clang of the cage door slamming shut made him jump. He spun around to face Mr Tomlinson, his heart racing so fast there was no way Mr Tomlinson couldn’t hear it in the otherwise silent room.

Someone had obviously gone to a lot of trouble, and probably a fair amount of expense, to make sure the door clanged in the most dramatic way possible. It had been worth every penny. It was more luck than judgement that Dan didn’t come in his jeans when he heard it. The clang of shackles he’d heard a few days before had been nothing in comparison.

Mr Tomlinson smiled to himself as he produced a metal ring containing several oversized keys and locked the cage door.

And that was it. Dan was trapped—helpless, vulnerable, and more turned on than he had ever been in his life. As he watched, Mr Tomlinson hooked the loop of keys onto his belt and took a step back.

Dan automatically stepped forward so no extra space appeared between them, then he hesitated, not sure what was allowed.

“You can move freely within the cage.” His tone was oh-so-casual.

A shiver raced up Dan’s spine. The simple fact that Mr Tomlinson could sound off-hand was a reminder how different their respective situations were. All the power was with Mr Tomlinson. All the risk rested with Dan. A tiny little bit of his brain protested against that and tried to remind him that it had never felt quite like that from the dom side when he’d switched. But it was quickly drowned out by every other part of Dan’s brain either panicking or setting off celebratory fireworks. God, but he’d missed this.

Move freely within the cage.

A suggestion from a dom should always be considered an order.

Dan turned to explore the confines of his new world. It was large enough that he could have stood in the centre and extended his arms in any direction without touching any of the bars.

Lifting one hand, he examined the bars that made up the cage’s ceiling. The metal was cold and somewhat dusty. He wrapped his fist tightly around one bar and pulled hard enough that he lifted his weight up onto his toes.

The cage was made to last, made to be tested and come through without a scratch—bigger than a prison cell, but just as secure.

No one would hear him scream down here in the basement. Or if they did, they’d just smile and write it off as someone having a good time in another part of the club.

“That will be more fun if you take off your jeans.”

Dan looked over his shoulder at Mr Tomlinson, then down at his own body. Without him making any conscious decision to do so, his hand had gone to his cock, and he was rubbing his erection through the thin denim.

Heat rushed to his cheeks as he wondered how long he’d stood there drooling over the cage and playing with his dick while Mr Tomlinson watched.

Suggestions were orders. Naked. Right, he could do that. Dan reached for the hem of his T-shirt.

“Just the jeans.”

Dan looked down at his feet. He’d worn trainers rather than boots, but there was still no way he could get his jeans off over them. Maybe he could put his shoes back on afterwards?

“You can remove the trainers too,” Mr Tomlinson added, making the permission sound like an indulgence for a sub who wasn’t quite up to speed.

Dan kicked off his trainers.

“Pass them through the bars. Leave your socks on.”

No hesitation, Dan obeyed, determined to prove that he was a competent sub despite possible appearances.

“Do you have any other excuses why the jeans are still on?”

Damn it. Dan hurriedly scrambled out of his jeans and passed them through the bars. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath them.

Mr Tomlinson put the jeans and trainers on the bondage bench on the other side of the room. “Go back to what you were doing before.”

Dan stared down his body as if he had never seen it before. His T-shirt was old, thin and too small for him. It pretty much covered him to where the waist band of his jeans would have been, if he was still wearing them. It did nothing to cover his cock.

His erection curved up toward his stomach, seeming to glory in the freedom. If he’d been completely naked, Dan was sure he wouldn’t have felt the least bit self-conscious. But the fact he was wearing his T-shirt and socks, that he was partially covered, made him feel the exposed parts of his body were far more vulnerable than all over nudity would have rendered them.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to hide his nerves and failed, Dan obediently wrapped his hand around his cock. There were definitely benefits to the jeans not being in the way.

A movement outside the cage pulled Dan’s attention. Mr Tomlinson had turned the bondage chair that they’d moved across the room last time they’d worked there and sat down.

It wasn’t a seat a dom should have looked comfortable on. Dan knew that in Mr Tomlinson’s place, he’d have been wary that the restraints attached to the chair might magically develop a mind of their own and wrap around his limbs, trapping him in place. Mr Tomlinson didn’t seem concerned. Anyone looking at him would think he was an absolute monarch, sitting on a gilded throne.

The comparison sent a jolt of pleasure through Dan. He tightened his grip around his cock and stroked a little faster. Instinct took him closer to Mr Tomlinson, until he was within arm’s reach of the cage bars.

A sudden shock of vibration made Dan lurch forward and grab one of the bars with his free hand. Mr Tomlinson had brought the remote for the butt-plug Dan was wearing with him.

Their eyes met through the bars of the cage. Dan jacked his cock harder.

“You don’t have permission to come, but you’re welcome to take a seat.”

Dan looked down at his cock, the head peaked past his fist with each stroke, liberally slicked with pre-cum. His piercing caught the light perfectly.

He wasn’t allowed to come. But he doubted he was allowed to stop teasing himself either.

Take a seat.

Sit.

He could do that without coming, probably.

Lacking a chair, Dan lowered himself down to sit on the floor of the cage. Suddenly, he was looking up at Mr Tomlinson through the bars. That felt right.

Stretching his bare legs out in front of him, Dan settled his free hand on the floor behind him, propping himself up.

It might have succeeded in looking like a relaxed pose. Except he was pretty sure they both already knew he was wound so tight he risked tearing his muscles away from his own bones if startled by a loud noise.

The floor was bare concrete, hard and cold. More importantly, sitting on it caused the plug to shift inside Dan, pressing harder against his prostate. He only just managed to bite back a whimper.

Mr Tomlinson relaxed even more comfortably back in his seat, looking both content and in charge of the whole world.

“How long has it been since you’ve been in a cage?”

“Never been in any cage for very long, sir.” Dan glanced quickly at every set of bars that surrounded him. From his position on the floor, it seemed even bigger. “I’ve never been in one like this at all.”

“Both interesting facts, neither answers the actual question.”

Dan met Mr Tomlinson’s eyes for a moment. How long had it been? “A few years, sir. I don’t know anything more specific than that.”

Mr Tomlinson nodded his acceptance of the answer.

“The guy who put you in a cage last time, was he the last man you submitted to?”

Dan froze, his hand completely stilling around his cock for the first time since Mr Tomlinson had told him to start jacking himself.

“Bad memory?”

Their eyes met. “Not particularly, but I wasn’t planning on a trip down memory lane tonight, sir.”

“My plans are the only ones that matter. They are confined by your limits, but not by your expectations.”

It was a perfect opening to say that talking about his experience with other doms was off limits. Dan had no doubt that Mr Tomlinson would accept it. Perhaps he wouldn’t like it, but he would accept it.

But if he said that, then Dan would have to accept something too—that he was lying about his limits in order to make the scene easier, that he was giving Mr Tomlinson less than he was able to.

Bollocks.

Dan held back a sigh. “The memory isn’t bad or good. It’s…bland.”

“Oh?”

To hell with it, Dan sighed. “He wasn’t the last guy I submitted to before I decided to give it up, but he wasn’t far off.” He shrugged and pulled one knee up to loop his arm around it.

“You can make yourself comfortable, but I haven’t given you permission to stop playing with your cock.”

Dan wasn’t sure if he wanted to curse Mr Tomlinson or beg for the privilege of being screwed by him. He suspected he was going to end up doing both by the end of the scene. For now, he settled on obeying him.

“Bland?” Mr Tomlinson prompted when he seemed content that Dan was masturbating satisfactorily.

It was an odd feeling, jacking off to a memory that wasn’t at all erotic. It made him think harder about the evening in question than he had in a long time. After an initial period of obsessing over it, he’d made a point of pushing it to the back of his mind. Now, it was once again front and centre, yet it was still completely overshadowed by current events. Words bubbled up in the back of his mind, but they were words said by someone other than Mr Tomlinson, and that made them seem insignificant.

“The scene should have been good. It matched his kinks, it matched mine. We were both each other’s type. It should have been hot, but it just wasn’t. It should have felt real, but…” Dan shrugged.

“You said he was your type?”

Dan nodded.

“You mean physically.”

“Yes, sir.” The guy had looked like a slightly younger version of Mr Tomlinson, but it seemed best not to mention that.

“What about mentally?”

“Sir?”

“Was he the kind of dom you wanted to submit to mentally?”

Dan blinked.

“Did you respect him? Was there something about his personality that made you want to obey him? Something about his attitude that made you think he’d be a good leader? Was he someone whose opinion you’d have trusted outside a scene?”

Dan frowned. Tearing his gaze from Mr Tomlinson, he looked at a blank patch of wall through the bars of the cage and tried to remember the details of the guy. Frank. His name had been Frank, although he’d tended to go by some variation of an internet screen name a lot of the time. He’d been… He’d been…okay?

Would Dan have followed his lead outside a scene?

No.

He hadn’t even considered the question before that moment, but no. Outside a scene, Dan knew that he would have been the natural leader between them, not Frank. His submission really had been artificial, just as fake as Frank had labelled it.

A movement outside the cage tried to pull Dan’s attention, but he kept his eyes on that blank part of wall.

He’d follow Mr Tomlinson outside a scene. He did as he was told at work because Mr Tomlinson employed him, but that had only ever been a small part of the story between them. He would have enjoyed following his lead regardless. Events in the club’s basement had only solidified that knowledge.

He wanted to follow Mr Tomlinson’s orders. He wanted to submit to him, and not just in a scene. It only then occurred to him that finding out his submission was real now might be even more terrifying than realising it had been faked a few years ago.

A shadow fell over Dan. He jerked his head up as his mind snapped back into the here and now. The noise he’d heard had been Mr Tomlinson getting up and coming closer to the bars of the cage. As their eyes met, Mr Tomlinson tossed a pair of padded leather cuffs through to him.

“Fasten them around the bars, anywhere you want, and put them on.”

Dan grabbed the cuffs and launched himself to his feet, so relieved to have something concrete to focus on. His attention darted from one point on the cage to another. So many options. It would have been far easier if Mr Tomlinson had chosen for him.

He could put the cuffs around one of the base sections, below the horizontal length of metal that stabilised the bars, about six inches off the floor. That would trap him on his knees. He’d be head down arse up. Not a subtle hint about what he hoped would happen next, but the time for subtlety was long past.

Wrapping the cuffs around the bars above the stabilising line near the top could trap him facing the bars, maybe in the corner—like corner time, but hopefully a more interesting version than the ones they’d talked about before. Attaching them through the bars of the door would mean opening the cage would put him outside the bars—that was probably the least appealing option of them all.

Dan looked around again, then finally up. The bars that made up the roof of the cage were stabilised by a heavy cross piece. Dan reached up and ran his fingers over the place where two pieces of metal met in the centre. Yes.

Fastening one of the cuffs around his wrist, Dan passed the other cuff over the cross piece before securing it around his free wrist. It wasn’t the easiest position to work with, but after a few fumbles, he managed it.

And that was it. He was stuck. The locks on the cuffs wouldn’t open again without a key. Dan took a deep breath, just to convince his body that no matter how trapped he was, the bondage wasn’t actually restricting his breathing.

He looked up just in time to see Mr Tomlinson open the cage door. The sound it made as it clanged open was just as erotic as it had been when it slammed shut. Dan’s cock jerked.

Mr Tomlinson didn’t close the cage door behind him when he stepped into it. Dan guessed there was no point, since there was no way in hell he was going anywhere until the cuffs were taken off.

Slowly, Mr Tomlinson began to circle Dan.

It was strange—simultaneously feeling confined by the cage and cuffs, yet very aware of how exposed and vulnerable he was to the man walking around him. Trapped, restricted, yet oh-so-accessible.

He waited, trembling slightly with need and expectation, for the first touch from Mr Tomlinson.

A slap to the arse. A kiss on the lips. Dan was open to anything.

“I think you stopped switching because some idiot convinced you you’re a bad sub. Which is complete bullshit. You’re not a bad sub, but it sounds like you might well be a sub who has bad taste in doms.”

Open to everything except more talking. Damn, but Dan wished he could call it a limit without feeling like a liar.

“I’m not clueless,” he said, as politely and calmly as he knew how. “I know a good dom when I see one. And I know how to spot the phoneys and wannabes. This isn’t exactly my first time in a club, sir.”

“But doms aren’t one size fits all, are they? A dom who’s a good match for one kind of sub can be a horrible match for another.” As he spoke he continued to pace around Dan. “That’s why I said you might have bad taste rather than too little knowledge.”

“You mean some doms are bad matches for switches,” Dan translated.

“Yes.” Mr Tomlinson ran a fingertip down the line of Dan’s spine, all the way to the plug still settled snugly in his arse. “And some doms are bad matches for brats, others are bad matches for masochists. You get my point.”

Dan tried not to thrust back against Mr Tomlinson’s fingers and failed. He had slightly better success with keeping his tone conversational-ish. “Who are you a bad match for?”

“I’ve never enjoyed playing with masochists who aren’t also submissives—not for more than a few minutes. I always end up feeling like I’m a waiter serving up pain ordered from a menu and that bores me quickly.”

Dan nodded. That was good. That didn’t describe him in the least. He’d always been better at the submission side of things.

“Pony-boys are pretty, but I never make any sort of connection with them. That doesn’t mean I disapprove of their kinks, or that I don’t think they’re good subs, it just means I know we’d both be better off playing with someone else.”

Dan nodded again. Pony-play wasn’t one of his kinks. He still hadn’t been vetoed.

“I’m not a great match for complete novices, either.” Mr Tomlinson came around to face Dan.

It was so tempting to ask Mr Tomlinson if he was only saying that because he knew Dan couldn’t claim newbie status. Was he just being polite?

“I’m not adverse to finding the gaps in a guy’s knowledge and expanding his horizons where appropriate. I’m not looking for someone who knows everything. But,” Mr Tomlinson chuckled. “It’s been so long since I was a novice, it feels more surreal than erotic to come face to face with someone who is so completely clueless they don’t even have a vocabulary.”

Dan smiled. He’d felt something similar himself, with both doms and subs. Even if he was the same age as someone who had zero experience, it had a way of making him feel like he was cradle-snatching.

“Tell me what you want,” Mr Tomlinson ordered.

“You.” It was a simple answer, but it came from the very bottom of Dan’s soul.

Mr Tomlinson’s expression was unreadable. Dan wasn’t sure if that was because Mr Tomlinson was purposely making it difficult for him to get a read on him or if it had more to do with the fact Dan was too desperate to come to think clearly about anything.

“That might be accurate, but it doesn’t really add much to the conversation, does it?” Mr Tomlinson stepped back as he spoke.

They were both still in the cage, he couldn’t actually be miles away, but it felt like he was to Dan. He pulled at the cuffs above his head, desperate to step forward.

Mr Tomlinson raised an eyebrow, as if amused that Dan thought, even for a second, that struggling to get free would be more productive than struggling to please his dom with the correct answer.

Conversation. Dan couldn’t think of a thing to say, not just on a relevant note, but on any topic at all.

“Who would be a bad match for you?” Leaning against the cage bars, Mr Tomlinson casually reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out a condom and sachet of lube.

“Anyone other than you, sir?”

Mr Tomlinson humphed. Even if some part of him might have liked that idea, it was evidently buried deep underneath the part that liked someone to make a much bigger effort at complete obedience.

“Someone who doesn’t believe switches exist?” Dan suggested.

“That’s a much better answer. Keep going.”

“I think some of the guys who I tried to submit to at the end, they felt like they were in competition with me—always trying to prove that they were a better dom than I was.”

Mr Tomlinson undid his fly and freed his cock. He jacked it slowly. When Dan had been doing the exact same thing a few minutes earlier, he’d felt exposed, vulnerable. Mr Tomlinson appeared to be the exact opposite. Calm. In control. Perfect. It was both unfair and as erotic as hell.

“I don’t think I’d be a very good match for a switch.” Dan heard the uncertainty in his own voice, as he tested out the idea in his head. “I fit better with a guy who is only interested in dominance.”

He hesitated then, wondering if he might have read his boss wrongly. But Mr Tomlinson calmly dipped his head once in acknowledgement, letting him know that they were still perfect for each other. Tearing open the condom wrapper, Mr Tomlinson sheathed his cock in the translucent latex.

“I like to know exactly what a guy wants from me, sir.”

Mr Tomlinson slicked the condom with lube.

Dan bit his bottom lip. If the cuffs hadn’t forced him to remain on his feet, he’d have happily dropped to his knees. To suck, to beg—whatever Mr Tomlinson wanted was fine with him as long as it got them within touching distance of each other.

“There’s no shame in having played with the wrong doms in the past.” Mr Tomlinson walked around to stand directly behind Dan. “There’s no shame in it having shaken your confidence.”

Mr Tomlinson pressed against the butt plug, making Dan gasp, before removing it completely. “Yes, sir.” Yes, sir to everything if it would get Mr Tomlinson’s cock taking the place of the plug more quickly.

“But, if you want to know what I want from you, then—I want you to do better in the future.”

“Yes, sir.” He could feel the tip of Mr Tomlinson’s cock against his hole now. One thrust, and everything would be right with the universe.

“I don’t want you to just pick good doms to play with. You also need to pick suitable doms too.”

“Yes.” Dan’s breathing was so ragged he could barely manage the word, let alone add the honorific.

“Take McCormack for example. He’s a fantastic dom for the right kind of sub, but he’d be a bad match for a switch.  He’s too black and white, too all or nothing.” A few seconds ticked past while Mr Tomlinson rocked his hips, tempting him with a real thrust. “Do you agree?”

Dan was pretty sure his brain had shut up shop several years ago. “What? Um, yeah, sure, I guess.” He sensed it was the wrong answer immediately, but it took him a moment to realise why. Just because Mr Tomlinson had managed to pick the most frustrating moment possible for a question and answer session, that didn’t mean formality or protocol could be dispensed with. “I mean—yes, sir.”

His correction didn’t seem to mollify Mr Tomlinson the way Dan had hoped. He fought through a cloud of arousal to try to work out what answer would please Mr Tomlinson, what answer would get him laid.

“You’re right, sir.”

“You didn’t sound so sure a second ago.”

“The only thing I’m bloody sure about right now is that I need your cock inside me.” The words were snapped and impatient. “Sir.” Dan added, a moment later, but not with any real hope that Mr Tomlinson would be impressed by it.

Mr Tomlinson’s hold on Dan’s flanks tightened. And, apparently, what he’d been waiting for the whole time, was for Dan to admit how desperate he was. The whole point of the conversation had probably been to judge when Dan became incapable of maintaining it.

God, but Dan had never been happier to have failed an interrogation.

Mr Tomlinson’s cock was larger than the plug and stretched him wide open. He pushed forward and didn’t still until his hips were pressed tight against Dan’s arse, and his dick was buried as deep inside him as humanly possible.

Dan tried to squirm. He tugged at his cuffs, causing them to rattle against the top bars of the cage. His socks made no sound as he shuffled his feet on the floor, trying to find some sort of leverage. Mr Tomlinson tightened his grip a fraction, but rode out every movement, not allowing Dan anything more than he wished to grant him.

“Would begging help, sir?” Dan finally blurted out. He was more than willing.

Mr Tomlinson chuckled, as if he was amused at how little teasing it took to bring Dan to his metaphorical knees. Dan was okay with that because, as well as chuckling, Mr Tomlinson started to rock his hips.

In one moment, the world condensed down into two perfect things—movement and friction.

Dan stopped trying to think. His entire being focused on feeling instead. Mr Tomlinson’s hands on his sides, holding him steady—his grip so strong there might well be fingertip sized bruises on his flanks tomorrow.

With every thrust, Mr Tomlinson connected firmly with Dan’s prostate.

Dan pulled at his cuffs, desperate to reach down and take himself in hand. A few strokes would be all he needed.

All he managed to do was writhe and convince Mr Tomlinson to tighten his hold on him. He really shouldn’t have admitted that he was able to come without anything touching his cock. He suspected that he’d guaranteed that would be the only way he’d be allowed to come for the foreseeable future.

Mr Tomlinson released his grip on Dan’s sides. Holding his breath, Dan dared to hope, but Mr Tomlinson didn’t reach around him for his cock. He moved his hands up to Dan’s shoulders instead.

Dan couldn’t bend forward very far, restrained as he was, but he stretched his arms and back, doing his best to cooperate with the pressure on his shoulders, even if that really wasn’t where he wanted to feel Mr Tomlinson’s touch.

Yes!

Shoulders were his new favourite place to be touched, because bending forward slightly had given him a whole new angle at which to receive Mr Tomlinson’s thrusts.

Stars. Fireworks. Lightning. Every orgasmic cliché hit Dan at once. He yelled out as he came hard enough to see darkness closing in around the edge of his vision.

He expected a jolt to his arms as the cuffs around his wrists became the only thing holding him up, but it didn’t happen.

With considerable effort, he focused on the details of the world around him.

Mr Tomlinson’s arms were wrapped around him. He still wasn’t showing the least sign of interest in jacking Dan’s dick—which was probably a good thing considering how sensitive he’d be just after coming. But Mr Tomlinson was holding him close now, their bodies pressed together from shoulder to knee.

Dan took a deep breath and knew that Mr Tomlinson had to have felt his rib cage move with the exaggerated action.

Close. Being held that way felt unexpectedly intimate. He found himself staying very still, not wanting to do anything that might cause Mr Tomlinson to pull away a moment sooner than necessary.

Mr Tomlinson dipped his head, pressing a chaste kiss on Dan’s shoulder, just where he’d gripped him for leverage a few minutes earlier. There would be a bruise there tomorrow. Dan smiled to himself, relishing the scrape of Mr Tomlinson’s stubble over the spot.

Blinking his eyes open, he looked around very slowly, taking everything in. God, but it was shocking how quickly and how thoroughly he was falling in love with this cage.

Yes, the cage. He really could spend the rest of his life in love with the cage.

Chapter Five

“Bullshit!”

Tomlinson paused on his way to his office and glanced through the archway leading into one of the main public play areas.

McCormack was setting up for some sort of scene with the bondage frame, but whoever he intended to play with didn’t appear to have arrived yet.

It was still early. The only subs in the area were Bret and Ricky. Brat plus sidekick. That was not good. That was not good at all. Especially when it was only one day to Valentine’s.

“Neither of you have a clue what you’re talking about,” McCormack added, as he tightened a bolt on part of the frame that he’d just altered.

“No. I’m right. I know I am,” Bret protested.

Tomlinson stepped up to the archway as McCormack huffed and turned his attention to adjusting another length of metal on the frame.

“You really don’t think he could be a switch, sir?” Ricky asked. His tone was far more respectful than Bret’s had been when he’d spoken to McCormack, but his words still sent a chill down Tomlinson’s spine.

“No,” McCormack bit out.

“He says he’s a switch,” Bret pushed.

“He can say he’s a ballet dancing unicorn, doesn’t mean it’s true.” McCormack frowned at the frame, apparently not entirely pleased with the proportions he’d selected.

A glance told Tomlinson that it was set for someone several inches shorter than Dan. That made him feel slightly better about the world.

“So, what do you think he is, sir?” Ricky prompted.

“He’s a confused sub.” McCormack adjusted the bar.

“A lot of the subs I know want to do scenes with him. They think he’d be an awesome dom to—”

“So a lot of subs are idiots. Present company included.” McCormack nodded to himself as he considered the frame.

He’d successfully altered it to be suitable for someone exactly Dan’s height. Tomlinson ground his teeth together. There were a lot of guys Dan’s height. Dan was working this evening, and he was playing with Tomlinson once his shift ended. There was no reason to think McCormack was setting up for Dan, and lots of reasons to think he wasn’t. But logic really wasn’t helping Tomlinson right then.

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” McCormack asked the boys.

“If you give me a proper answer, maybe I’ll go away,” Bret offered.

“And maybe you’ll still be standing around annoying me come the end of the night regardless,” McCormack bit out.

“Please, sir. We really would appreciate your opinion,” Ricky offered.

McCormack let out a long-suffering sigh. “The guy’s a sub who hasn’t found the right dom to make that clear to him. I don’t care if some subs think he’s hot. I don’t care if he’s managed to impress some people playing the part of a dom in a couple of scenes. He’s still a sub. Anyone who actually knows what they’re doing can read it in him. The sooner he realises that, the happier he’ll be.”

No. That was not how it worked. Dan was a great many things, but a confused sub wasn’t one of them. It was that kind of attitude from doms in the past that had Dan so damn uncertain of himself now.

“You could show him,” Bret suggested.

No! It took all of Tomlinson’s self-control to keep the word back.

“I could also cheerfully throttle you. Maybe I should do that instead?” His tone was pissed off, but there was no real heat to the threat. Most of his attention was still on the frame. Whatever scene he was setting up was obviously important to him.

Tomlinson could see it so clearly in his mind’s eye. Dan and McCormack. His stomach turned at the prospect. As he clenched his fist, his hand was damp with sweat.

“Bugger off, both of you.” The words were out of Tomlinson’s mouth before he could stop them. All three men turned to stare as he stepped into the room and walked up to the edge of the play area.

With great difficulty, Tomlinson turned his complete attention to Bret and Ricky. “Go.”

Bret must have sensed something in his tone, because for once he didn’t seem inclined to talk back, waste time, or generally live up to his bratty reputation. He caught hold of Ricky’s arm and went without a single word.

“We need to talk.”

McCormack glanced over his shoulder, halfway through fastening a cuff to the bondage frame. “So, talk.”

“You need to keep your distance from him.” The moment the words hit the air, Tomlinson knew he’d chosen exactly the wrong tone of voice for dealing with McCormack. “We both know you have no business playing with a switch,” he added. His attempts to make his tone more polite failed spectacularly.

“I know that I don’t need your permission to do whatever I want,” McCormack said, raising one pierced eyebrow.

“You’d be a bad match for a switch.” And, damn it, he still hadn’t managed to alter his tone of voice in the slightest.

“Perhaps, but unless you consider yourself to be the switch in question, that’s really none of your business. Is it?”

“If you’re playing in my club, you screwing someone over is very much my business,” Tomlinson bit out.

“You should pick your words more carefully. There’s a big difference between screwing someone and screwing them over.” McCormack’s tone was becoming politer by the second, and Tomlinson knew that should be setting off alarm bells in his head, but his brain was full of images of Dan on that damn bondage frame, and McCormack was still fiddling with the damn thing.

“I stand by the words I chose.”

“Bullshit.” McCormack finally turned to face Tomlinson properly and stood toe to toe with him. “Stop hedging. If you have a problem with the way I treat the men who sub to me, spit it out, right now. Clear and simple.”

“Fine, clear and simple. Stay away from Dan!”

McCormack seemed about to speak, then he stopped short and frowned. “What the hell has Dan got to do with any of this?”

“He has everything to do with this! What—you don’t think he gets a vote?” A little voice in the back of Tomlinson’s mind pointed out that everything would be so much simpler if that was the case.

Take Dan’s record with picking inappropriate doms out of the mix and ninety-nine percent of Tomlinson’s concerns would disappear. But as things stood, it was just too big a risk. Panicked subs went for the familiar, and submitting to a dom who was all wrong for him was exactly what Dan was used to and—

“No,” McCormack growled. “Unless Craig’s wearing his collar then—no, Dan doesn’t get a vote.”

Tomlinson opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again when he realised that there was something very wrong with McCormack’s answer. “Craig?”

“Craig Wiltshire. Your new doorman. You can hardly have missed him. The guy’s the size of a house. Not to mention you seem to have some weird inclination to stick your nose in his business.”

Tomlinson tried very hard not to do an impression of a gold fish while he tried to sort it all out in his mind. “Bret was trying to set you up with Craig?”

McCormack sighed. “Well, he’s a slippery little sod. Impossible to tell what his end game is, but that’s who he was babbling on about, yes.”

God but Tomlinson wished he could feel as casual about it all as McCormack sounded. “He wasn’t talking about Dan?” he checked.

“No.”

“So your interest in Dan is…”

McCormack looked at Tomlinson as if he was insane. “He’s been talking about buying one of my old motorcycles. Been finding it hard to schedule a time to take a good look at it though, since you’ve had him working odd shift patterns.” As he spoke, Tomlinson could hear the pieces click together inside McCormack’s head. His tone cooled dramatically. “Since when don’t you trust me around your sub?”

“He’s not, technically.” But the fact he didn’t actually have a collar on Dan wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. “I mean, he’s a switch.”

“Since when do you not trust me around anyone who’s into leather?”

Since I fell in love with Dan.

Tomlinson opened his mouth and shut it again. Another fish impression wasn’t ideal, but there was no way he was saying that out loud. Not to McCormack, especially not before he’d even said it to Dan.

“What the hell made you think I had any interest in Dan, anyway?”

“Bret said—” McCormack huffed, but Tomlinson forced himself to push on. “—said that you’d found out Dan used to switch.”

“No shit? Everyone knows he played both sides of the fence for years.”

“What?”

“Common knowledge, isn’t it?”

“No.” Tomlinson shot back, a bit louder than necessary. “No, it’s bloody well not!”

McCormack shrugged. “I assumed everyone knew.”

“Well, they don’t. How do you know anyway?”

“I saw him do a few scenes at another club years back.” He frowned as if flicking through old memories—memories of Dan submitting to other men, Dan in God only knew what kind of positions.

“Did you ever play with him?” Tomlinson bit out.

“No.”

It was on the tip of Mr Tomlinson’s tongue to question the answer.

“He’s not my type. Also, he has bloody awful taste in doms.” He looked Tomlinson up and down. “I’d have said you’d have been a step up for him, but since you’ve spent the last ten minutes auditioning for pillock of the week, I’m not so sure.”

Tomlinson managed not to wince at the barb. “So, this…” He waved a hand at the frame.

“Stuart Jameson. Pain slut who’s been playing in your club for years—every time he passes through the city for work. Not Dan, and not Craig Wiltshire, either. If you’d had the damn sense to ask me that at the start, you could have avoided all of this.”

Ignoring that jab, too, Tomlinson tried to play back the events of the previous week.

Accidentally catching Bret and Ricky plotting. Obviously, not an accident. He doubted that overhearing the conversation they were having with McCormack just now had been an accident, either. No names said aloud, but everything oh so easy to misinterpret once the seed had been planted in his head.

Nothing had been an accident.

“I’m going to kill the little bastard.”

“I assume we’re talking about Bret rather than Dan, now?” McCormack said.

A movement from the other side of the room caught Tomlinson’s eye. A blond head peeking around the corner. A brat checking up on how his latest scheme was going.

Leaving a clearly fuming McCormack in his wake, Tomlinson stormed across the room. Bret disappeared around the corner, but when Tomlinson rounded the corner a few moments later, he found that Bret hadn’t run off. It seemed more like he’d found a quiet out of the way place to be shouted at.

“I warned you not to pull this shit again, Bret.”

“Technically, you told me not to manipulate any of the subs who play here. Neither you or Dan are subs.”

Tomlinson would have counted to ten, but he knew there weren’t enough numbers in the world to help. “Technicalities aren’t your friend here, Bret.”

“You’re perfect for each other.”

The temptation to agree with that point was strong, but Tomlinson didn’t give in to it. “This club is not your personal playground. You cannot run riot around here without any consequences. You want to try and take over your master’s life, that’s his problem. But you can’t bugger around with other people’s lives, putting them at risk, manipulating them into doing anything without genuine consent. We spoke about this, at great length, last year.”

“I didn’t put anyone at risk. And you and Dan didn’t get tricked into a damn thing. You both knew exactly what you were doing, and it was exactly what you’d both wanted to do since the first moment you set eyes on each other.”

Anger bubbled inside Tomlinson, but everything Bret said had a horrible ring of truth to it, and he didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

Last year, Ricky could have got hurt, he’d submitted to someone under false pretences. This year, the only thing actually at risk had been Tomlinson’s pride. He’d made something of a fool of himself, and it was only luck he hadn’t made a complete idiot of himself in front of a much larger audience.

“And the part where I just insulted one of the best doms in the club?” he said, mostly because not saying something would have been admitting defeat when he really didn’t want to.

“McCormack will get over it. I could even help you find a way to make it up to him, if you’d like. I’m sure I can find a sub who would be perfect for him, and—”

“No! I’ve had all the help off you I can handle. I suggest you make yourself scarce until I’ve got over the urge to throttle you. Is your dom here?”

Bret nodded.

“Go and find him. I suggest you make a full confession right away, because I’ll definitely be speaking to him about it next time I see him.”

Just then Ricky and Dan came around the corner, each carrying a large cardboard box.

Dan smiled when he saw him, but when he saw how pissed off Tomlinson was, his expression sobered.

Tomlinson took the box off a slightly surprised Ricky.

“Go find your master. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Ricky scarpered, and Bret only hung back slightly, probably in the hopes of overhearing something interesting, before catching Tomlinson’s eye and thinking better of it.

“Is everything okay?” Dan asked.

Tomlinson indicated the storeroom Dan had been heading towards with the box. He didn’t speak again until they were inside the room and had each put their boxes down. “We were set up.”

“How?”

“Very easily,” Tomlinson bit out. God, but it really had been so easy!

“Sir?”

Taking in Dan’s uncertainty, Tomlinson forced himself to pull himself together. “Bret. He told me that I had a chance with you because you’re a switch. Then he told me you were interested in someone else, someone completely unsuitable. That was all it took.”

“All it took to what, sir?”

“Convince me to make a move on you and convince me to make an idiot out of myself.”

Dan studied him carefully.

Tomlinson bit back a sigh. There really was no way to avoid admitting it. No one gossiped like leather guys. Dan was bound to hear every detail soon enough. Better he hear the truth than whatever exaggerated version ended up being spread around the club. “I may have told McCormack to stay the hell away from you.”

Dan studied him for a few seconds. “I’m guessing it would be really bad manners to ask if he mentioned whether or not he was still in the mood to sell one of his old bikes?”

Tomlinson had thought that it would be a hell of a long time before he could laugh about it, but that one question did it. It was more relief that humour, but he let out a bark of laughter.

Dan obviously had no interest in getting together with McCormack for any other reason, and it was the best news Tomlinson had heard in years. As their eyes met, he suspected that Dan had asked the question purposely to make it clear he had no interest in McCormack in any other context. It was a neat little move.

“Are we still on for after your shift?”

“Of course. My plans for during my shift are also pretty flexible,” Dan offered.

So much temptation.

There were few things that appealed to Tomlinson more than the prospect of marching Dan into the main play area and making it clear to everyone in the world that Dan belonged to him. But one of those things that did appeal more was making it clear to Dan that when they did a scene it would always be about the men involved in the scene and not about messages he wanted to send to people in the audience.

He also needed to make sure Dan went on remembering that when he was on the clock, he was supposed to be keeping his mind on work.

“Your plans for during your shift are set in stone, and they involve keeping your mind on your job.”

Dan sighed, just a little over dramatically, but he also smiled and headed back toward the bar.

“You keep your focus now, and I just might let you come later on,” Tomlinson called after him.

Dan’s smile turned into a grin as he looked over his shoulder.

* * * * *

“My shift is officially over…sir.”

Dan leaned against the door frame leading into Mr Tomlinson’s office at the back of the club, trying to look casual. It had been one hell of a long shift for him since they’d talked in the storeroom.

Mr Tomlinson glanced at his watch and shook his head, but he looked amused rather than annoyed that Dan had managed to time his arrival to exactly one second past clocking-off time.

“Eager?”

“Yes, sir.” There was little point in lying about it when his erection was visibly straining against the front of his leather trousers.

“Good.” His voice was full of satisfaction. It was tempting to believe that he’d been biding his time until the end of the shift with just as much impatience as Dan had. But, of course, he didn’t show that by hurrying as he shut down his laptop and put away his papers.

Dan waited with entirely phoney patience until Mr Tomlinson was ready to declare his work-day over. Finally, he got up from his desk and left the office.

The club was still going to be open for another few hours. Music pumped from one of the public play areas. There were people everywhere. Dan fell in step behind Mr Tomlinson, eager to see where he was going to take him.

He’d spent most of his shift imagining the scene they were going to do. It seemed like Mr Tomlinson might be in the mood to put on a show, and that was fine with Dan—so much so that he had to concentrate to hold back a grin.

Drama, exhibitionism, and a dom who had a point to prove. While McCormack had never appealed to Dan’s submissive side, the idea of playing with Mr Tomlinson while Mr Tomlinson was determined to prove to everyone watching that he was an even better dom than McCormack, held undeniable appeal.

Mr Tomlinson walked straight past the entrance to the public play spaces. Since the private play areas were on the other side of them, there was nowhere for Mr Tomlinson to be heading except the bar.

Dan had very fond memories of their first scene in the bar, and got hard thinking about it every time he worked there. But he doubted Mr Tomlinson intended to play in there while the club was still full of people. He was strict about ushering people who started to play in the bar back toward the play spaces, he wouldn’t publically flaunt his own rules during business hours.

The only other thing Mr Tomlinson could be heading for was the exit, and that didn’t make any sense at all. Yet, as Dan followed dutifully behind, he found that was exactly where Mr Tomlinson was going.

“Sir?”

Mr Tomlinson stopped and turned back to face him. “Yes?”

“I thought…”

Mr Tomlinson raised an eyebrow and waited for Dan to finish his sentence. Unfortunately, Dan had no idea how to do that, how to ask.

“I’m going home,” Mr Tomlinson finally said.

Dan nodded. He hoped like hell he was succeeding in keeping his expression blank, but it was hard to keep a mask in place. It should have occurred to him earlier that, given time to think things through, Mr Tomlinson might decide that he was far too much trouble.

It was his fault that Mr Tomlinson had argued with McCormack and—

“You’re coming with me.”

“I am?” Dan blurted out, his mask completely disintegrating.

“Unless you have some objection.” And there it was, the slightest hint of uncertainty. It would have been imperceptible to anyone whose every sense wasn’t on high alert, but it was there.

The idea that Dan didn’t want to go home with him bothered Mr Tomlinson.

Dan managed not to grin. “No objection, sir.”

And that was how, three minutes later, he found himself sitting in the front passenger seat of Mr Tomlinson’s car, heading away from the club.

They’d been driving for about five minutes before either of them spoke.

“You’re nervous.”

Dan did his best to hide a wince and hoped like hell he was more successful with that than he’d apparently been at disguising his nerves. “I guess I’ve always been a club guy, sir,” he said, choosing each word carefully.

“Meaning?”

Mr Tomlinson had little choice but to keep his eyes on the road. That made it slightly easier. At least Dan didn’t have to make eye contact while he admitted his sins. “I’ve never really submitted to someone outside a club’s official play spaces, sir.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe.” Mr Tomlinson paused, giving the road his complete attention as he pulled out into a stream of traffic, before continuing. “Especially since you’ve never submitted to me in a club’s official play space.”

“That’s…” Dan stopped himself short and ran the events of their, their relationship he supposed, through in his mind. Basement, storeroom, bar room, basement again. Mr Tomlinson was right. They’d been in a club with dozens of play areas, but they’d never used one of them.

A sudden moment of ‘he doesn’t want to be seen with me’, evaporated when he remembered that the club had plenty of private play rooms and Mr Tomlinson could have had his pick of them.

And Mr Tomlinson had told McCormack about him, warned him off even. That didn’t hint of a man who was ashamed to be seen with a fake, or with a switch.

Dan tensed up as Mr Tomlinson pulled into the driveway in front of a large house.

“Why?” He knew he should probably have made more of an effort to temper the question with something overtly deferential, but as he looked through the windscreen at Mr Tomlinson’s house, time didn’t seem to be on his side.

“Because I’ve never been someone who thought either submission or dominance should start and stop when people walk into different rooms.” With that he got out of the car and headed for the front door.

Dan hurried after him and, before he had a chance to think, he was standing in the front hall.

You have a beautiful home.

The words hesitated on the tip of Dan’s tongue. He couldn’t actually claim to have looked at the house or have any real opinion of how pretty it was, but the words floated up in his mind, a lesson from childhood about what it was respectful to say the first time you visited someone’s home.

Respect. Even if those words weren’t the right ones, Dan had the distinct impression he should be doing something to indicate respect. If he could do that without showing how out of his depth he felt, all the better.

“McCormack’s really pissed with you, sir.” Not quite the phrase he’d been looking for, damn it.

“I know.” Mr Tomlinson put his keys in a dish on the hall stand and made his way deeper into the house.

Dan trailed behind him. “The guy can hold a grudge for decades—especially against a dom.”

“That’s true.”

“Respect’s a huge thing with him. And a lot of the guys really do respect him. Apart from you and Mr Lewis, there’s not another guy in the club whose lead they follow like they do with him, and—”

“Did you check with him about the bike you want to buy?”

Dan nodded.

“And?”

“He said he’ll still sell it to me.”

“Good, but that wasn’t all he said, was it.”

Dan shook his head, but he wasn’t about to volunteer anything else.

“Go on.”

Damn. No avoiding it now. Dan cleared his throat. “He said doms are responsible for their sub’s actions, not the other way around.”

“And?” Mr Tomlinson prompted again.

“And if you want to come with me when I go to inspect the bike, you can. But if you’re going to be an arsehole, don’t expect him to be polite.”

Mr Tomlinson nodded that he’d heard, but he didn’t seem either shocked or offended the way Dan had thought he would be.

“He could cause a lot of problems for you, sir.”

“I’ll work things out with him. He’s not my main priority right now.” His expression was more mellow than it usually was at the club, but his voice was just as perfect. “Strip.”

“Is this a—subs aren’t allowed to wear clothes in your house—thing, sir?” Dan asked, as he pulled his T-shirt over his head, then turned his attention to his boots.

“This is a—I promised you a scene tonight, didn’t I?—thing,” Mr Tomlinson said, with amusement. “And you can use the furniture.”

Dan stopped trying to half-kneel awkwardly to unlace his boots, and perched on the edge of a sofa seat instead.

“If being in a scene is what makes you feel more at ease with your submission, I have no objection to making you feel at ease on a very frequent basis.”

Dan smiled as he set aside his boots and socks, and stood up to dispense with his jeans. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that they were doing a scene that was reassuring, or the fact that Mr Tomlinson seemed to instinctively understand what would comfort him that made the most difference.

Then, he was naked. It should have made him feel awkward, but it actually helped. Nudity. Sex. That kind of submission, he understood. He had experience with that. Mr Tomlinson had been right about it all.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?” Mr Tomlinson asked.

“Why didn’t you just ask me about McCormack?” He frowned slightly, sure he’d had no intention of uttering that question at any point, let alone when it could only delay them having sex, which he was very desperate to have.

“Because we’ve done all of two scenes together,” Mr Tomlinson said, as he started to circle Dan. “I didn’t want to rush you into anything or push you into making any sort of commitment before you were ready. It seemed better to just let you take it one scene at a time.”

Dan nodded, because it made sense.

“Normal people don’t promise either collars or eternity after two days.”

The appropriate response would be to nod again, yet Dan found his lips moving. “I’ve known you for a lot longer than two days, sir.”

“Context, Dan.”

“Okay, in context.” Dan took a deep breath. “In context, I’ve been doing everything I can to stop myself from wanting to submit to you since I first set eyes on you at my job interview. I’ve tried not to think about you, and failed. Tried not to fantasise about you, and failed.” He kept his gaze firmly lowered, unable to risk meeting Mr Tomlinson’s eyes. “Tried not to fall for you, and failed.”

The thinking and the fantasising had been front and centre of his mind for months. The part where he’d been falling in love with Mr Tomlinson, he’d managed to remain in complete denial about.

His heart raced with the realisation he hadn’t merely acknowledged that inside his head, he’d just said it out loud. His stomach turned over. His brain had no idea what to do. His cock remained as hard as ever.

“Dan?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I made a complete idiot out of myself. I alienated one of the best doms of my acquaintance, someone who could probably torpedo my entire business if he set his mind to it. I opened myself up to one hell of a work place harassment suit if I’d read you wrong that first day in the basement, too. And I don’t regret a second of it.”

Dan managed to look up and meet Mr Tomlinson’s gaze.

“You really think this is just a fling for me? I’ve wanted you for as long as I’ve known you. I can’t imagine ever not wanting you in the future.”

Dan managed a smile before his nerves made the expression a strain to maintain. “I can’t make any guarantees that I’ll be any good at the fulltime submission thing. I don’t have much experience with it. Or any experience with it. You might find that the switch in me really pisses you off, especially outside scenes.”

Mr Tomlinson didn’t look the slightest bit nervous. “You’ve been submitting to the wrong kind of guys, that’s all. But that’s not going to be a problem anymore.”

“It’s not?”

“No, because the only dom you’ll be submitting to is me.”

“Exclusive, sir?”

“Yes.”

And obviously, the going slow portion of their relationship was over. Dan held Mr Tomlinson’s gaze for several seconds, wondering if any further information on the whole exclusivity thing might be forthcoming.

“Is that a problem?” Mr Tomlinson eventually asked.

He was going to make Dan say it out loud. “Will you be playing with other subs?”

“No. Just with you.”

Dan smiled, almost light headed with relief. “Then that’s no problem at all, sir.”

Mr Tomlinson chuckled. “When it comes to you switching and you doing scenes with subs—”

“I don’t need that, sir.”

“When it comes to that,” Mr Tomlinson went on, raising an eyebrow at Dan for interrupting. “You can keep your hand in doing some of the display scenes at the club, if you like. I have no objection to you letting your dom side out to play, providing you don’t have any expectation of getting laid in the process. I’ll supervise, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Dan’s cock jolted at the idea of being in the club, being a dom in a scene, well aware that the man he was submitting to was watching his every move.

That his master was watching his every move. That his master was planning what to do with him once that scene where Dan was playing the dom ended.

Mr Tomlinson stepped up close in front of Dan. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll be watching,” Mr Tomlinson whispered in his ear. “And, yes you can bet your arse we’d be playing together right afterwards.”

“You’d like that, sir?”

“Yes, just as much as you will.” Reaching around Dan, Mr Tomlinson grabbed his arse and pulled him close against his body so Dan’s erection rubbed against the front of Mr Tomlinson’s leather trousers.

“Yes, sir.”

“Your voice sounds a lot less sure about that than your cock is,” Mr Tomlinson observed. There was no judgement in his tone, but no doubt, either.

Dan wished he could have claimed that his own voice had been strong and confidant without lying. “Just nervous, I guess, sir. Whether I’m playing as a dom or a sub, I…I like that you’re someone who isn’t easy to please.” Dan couldn’t help but rock his hips, desperate for friction. “Struggling to please you is hot. But failing would be…”

“I won’t let you fail. It’s not something you have to worry about anymore, because it’s not something that can happen.” As he spoke, he ran his hand up and down Dan’s back, from shoulder to arse. His touch was firm, strong, and reassuring at the same time.

Not sure what to say, Dan just nodded.

Mr Tomlinson’s mouth was just an inch away from his—an almost offered kiss that Dan didn’t have the confidence to take.

Mr Tomlinson, thank you God, apparently had more than enough confidence for them both.

The kiss was hard, demanding. From the first touch of lips, Mr Tomlinson pushed forward, figuratively and physically. Dan’s back hit the wall, and Mr Tomlinson didn’t retreat in the slightest. He deepened the kiss even further, demanding that Dan rush to catch up.

Dan lifted one hand to catch hold of Mr Tomlinson, to pull him even closer, or even just for the sheer joy of holding on. But he stopped himself short.

He had no idea what the rules were. Maybe they hadn’t played in an official club space before, but just being in the club had given Dan at least a hint of familiarity. What were the rules when they were in Mr Tomlinson’s home?

“Upstairs, now.” The words were growled against Dan’s lips just a second before Mr Tomlinson stepped back.

A clear order. A gift.

Dan quickly headed in the direction Mr Tomlinson pointed. A minute later, he was at the top of the stairs.

“First on your right.”

Dan opened the door and stepped inside.

It…It wasn’t a play room.

Dan hadn’t expected it to be exactly the same as a play room at the club. He wasn’t shocked there wasn’t a set of stocks, a cage and a gibbet all laid out in a neat little line. But he had assumed that a guy like Mr Tomlinson would have a ‘guest’ room converted to hold a lot of toys.

There were no toys at all, no props, nothing for Dan to hang his submission on, nothing he could use to make it clear which of them was the dom and which was the sub. It was more frightening than walking into a room decorated with every kinky implement ever invented.

And it wasn’t the guest room either, it was obviously Mr Tomlinson’s bedroom. Dan felt like an interloper even though Mr Tomlinson had literally ordered him into it.

He turned as Mr Tomlinson joined him in the room. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he didn’t get the chance to say anything. One push and he tumbled back onto the bed.

It was much softer than a bondage bench. He reached out to find the edge but the way he’d fallen meant the only thing within reach was mattress and quilt.

Mr Tomlinson started to take his clothes off, and Dan froze, barely daring to breathe, as he took in every detail.

In all the times they’d played together in the club, Mr Tomlinson hadn’t done more than unzip his fly. This was different, a good kind of different, but still different. Unfamiliar.

Being dressed when the sub was naked was all about power, and Mr Tomlinson was throwing that power away as if it meant nothing, as if he had no interest in retaining the power imbalance.

It was both disconcerting and hellishly distracting. Dan couldn’t help but stare.

It wasn’t as if Mr Tomlinson wore twenty layers at the club, but seeing him take garments off felt intimate.

Mr Tomlinson wasn’t putting on a show. His every movement was deft and practical. He carried more muscle than Dan had guessed. He wasn’t ripped, but he was solid in a way that hinted the muscles he carried would prove to be useful rather than just pretty.

Completely naked, hard, and wholly unselfconscious, Mr Tomlinson scooped a bottle of lube out of the bedside drawer and tossed it to Dan.

Dan looked from Mr Tomlinson, to the bottle, completely blankly.

“You do know what to do with it, right?”

“Yes, sir.” It wasn’t until the honorific hit the air that Dan wondered if it was appropriate when what they were doing didn’t have what he considered to be any of the conventional hallmarks of a scene.

“Good boy.”

Yes! Those two words in that tone of voice snapped something together for Dan. It was a scene. He opened the bottle, squeezed some lube onto his fingers and quickly started to prepare himself.

Mr Tomlinson grabbed a condom out of the drawer and rolled it on as Dan watched. And, with Mr Tomlinson so very self-confident, it didn’t seem rude to stare at all. He continued to watch every movement as Mr Tomlinson went on to slicking the condom with extra lube.

The movements of his hand were mesmerising. Dan found himself falling into time with them, his fingers pushing deep into his arse every time Mr Tomlinson jacked his own cock.

When he stepped forward, closing the gap between them, Dan felt like a supplicant whose every prayer had been answered. He quickly twisted around to get onto his hands and knees.

“No. I’ll let you know when I want you to roll over for me.”

Dan fell still, sitting in the middle of the bed. Mr Tomlinson grabbed his wrist and pinned it easily over Dan’s head as he pushed him down flat on his back. Before Dan even had a chance to appreciate how much he loved being pinned down by Mr Tomlinson, something else grabbed his attention.

The way Mr Tomlinson had him pinned, their cocks lined up perfectly. Mr Tomlinson’s slicked cock rubbed against Dan’s, making him gasp. A moment later he whimpered, as Mr Tomlinson had wrapped his free hand around both of their dicks.

Dan stared up at Mr Tomlinson in shock. He’d convinced himself that telling Mr Tomlinson he could come without a single touch to his cock had ensured that he would be the only person who ever touched his dick for the rest of his life. Apparently, he had been blessedly, gloriously, wrong.

Mr Tomlinson stroked around both their cocks, hard and fast. It was easily the best thing Dan had ever felt in his life. Within moments he had to fight for self-control. And within a minute it was obvious to him that self-control wasn’t going to cut it.

He grabbed Mr Tomlinson’s shoulder with his free hand.

Dipping his head, Mr Tomlinson whispered into Dan’s ear as if he was sharing a delicious secret. “You’ll come like this, or you won’t come at all, Dan. Not tonight, or any time soon. If you don’t come in the next minute the only thing you’re going to feel against your cock for the next six weeks is that chastity cage you enjoyed wearing so much.”

Dan wasn’t sure if it was fear of what Mr Tomlinson described or if he just found the mental picture of it incredibly hot, but it only took another few strokes for Dan to be tossing his head back and screaming his relief up to the ceiling.

The sound had barely faded from the air when Dan found himself being unceremoniously flipped over onto his stomach. Mr Tomlinson’s grabbed his wrist again, this time twisting his arm up behind him to pin it against the small of his back.

Dan had spread his legs as he’d rolled over, perhaps for balance, perhaps just on instinct. Either way, it gave Mr Tomlinson perfect access. One thrust had him buried in Dan’s arse to the hilt.

Dan gasped, arching his back. On the next thrust, he scrambled to try to get his knees underneath him and give Mr Tomlinson a better angle, but the way he was pinned made it impossible for him to move.

Another thrust, hard and deep. Dan’s cock twitched, trapped against the bed beneath him. There was no way he was going to be able to come from this, not when the pleasure from his orgasm had barely started to fade.

This wasn’t about his pleasure now, it was all about Mr Tomlinson’s. Dan twisted beneath his dom, loving both the psychological and the physical sensations that came with that.

Dan hadn’t thought he’d used that much lube, and neither had Mr Tomlinson but… The realisation made Dan jolt. The ‘extra lube’ wasn’t lube at all. It was his own cum from the joint hand job.

If there had been any chance in hell that he could have come twice in such quick succession, he would have. He had to guess that Mr Tomlinson found the idea just as hot as he did. Or, perhaps, it was having Dan in his house rather than his club that made the difference, but he seemed far more impatient to orgasm than Dan had seen in previous scenes.

His grip on Dan’s wrist tightened as he came, hard and fast. Dan grinned against the bedspread, knowing that it was going to leave a mark—something tangible he could admire the next day, something to remind him that this hadn’t been a hot fantasy that he’d jacked off to. This was real.

He was still marvelling at the fact that it was real when Mr Tomlinson pulled away, dispensed with the condom and laid down next to him. When Mr Tomlinson nudged him, Dan cautiously moved in the way Mr Tomlinson seemed to want, so they were laying properly on the bed rather than horizontally across it.

“Sore?”

Dan looked down and realised he was caressing the wrist Mr Tomlinson had pinned behind his back. “No, sir. It’s okay.”

“Are you?”

Dan glanced towards him.

“Are you okay?” Mr Tomlinson expanded.

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“Sub or switch, lying will get you put in chastity for however long it takes you to learn never to lie to me again.” The threat was delivered so casually, it would have been easy not to take it seriously. It would also have been a mistake. Dan had no doubt that Mr Tomlinson would follow through on even the most casual threat.

“I just guess it… Not just being out of a club, but… I mean, being out of reach of any kind of leather is—”

Mr Tomlinson’s laughter cut him off.

Dan hesitated. He hadn’t expected Mr Tomlinson to be that amused by his uncertainty and his stomach turned over at the possibility he’d read the situation, and the man he’d offered his submission to, wrongly.

“Reach up under the pillow, feel for the headboard.”

Dan cautiously did as he was told and found…leather? Frowning, he rolled over onto his stomach and pulled the pillow aside.

Leather cuffs were attached to the headboard. They weren’t just clipped on to a convenient bit, as if they had been pulled out of the toy box for a special occasion. They were permanently attached via an eye ring that had been screwed directly into the wood.

Dan gave an experimental tug on them. The fastenings were far stronger than he was. Examination of the cuffs showed that they were sturdy, lockable, and well padded. They weren’t designed to only hold someone in place for ten minutes, or to allow the person restrained to free themselves if they wanted out.

They were…perfect. Dan ran his fingers over them.

Mr Tomlinson smoothed his hand down Dan’s back, making him want to arch like a cat. “You’ll never be out of reach of leather in any house I own.”

Dan nodded. That did make him feel better.

“There will always be leather when you need it. If you’d needed it tonight, I’d have cuffed you tonight, or whipped you, or whatever. But you also need to know that you can submit without props, even if it does make you feel more vulnerable.”

Dan took a deep breath. “I’ll get over it, sir,” he promised.

“Some parts of it, definitely—the bits that make you doubt yourself. I’ll see to it that we fix those bits. But feeling vulnerable when you submit isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” He ran his hand casually over Dan’s arse.

“Sir?”

“For some subs, that’s always part of it. And if you’re one of those subs, that’s okay. It just needs to be balanced with a kind of safety too. It’s fine to feel like you’re walking a tight rope, but you have to learn that there’s a safety net there. That, if you fall, I’ll make sure the landing doesn’t hurt you.”

It sounded like a description of a kind of paradise, albeit one with a slightly unexpected circus theme.

“That hasn’t been your experience in the past,” Mr Tomlinson said. It wasn’t a question.

“I’m not the best at—” Dan rolled over to stare at the ceiling. “I’m not really a sub. That makes it—”

“You’re a real sub, and a good sub, Dan. The fact you’re a switch doesn’t change that. Whoever said otherwise is an idiot. You’re not a fake.”

Dan met Mr Tomlinson’s eyes.

“You flinch whenever anyone says the word. It doesn’t take a genius to work it out.”

“Oh.” Dan had a horrible suspicion he was blushing.

“Maybe you don’t believe it yet, but it’s true. Your submission is as real as it could possibly be. But, if you can’t believe in yourself just yet, believe in me.”

Dan looked up at him again.

“Do I really strike you as a man who would fall in love with anyone who wasn’t an amazing sub?”

The kiss wasn’t exactly gentle, but Dan wouldn’t have wanted it to be. Maybe he wasn’t a perfect sub, but he was real. And he was, apparently, the kind of sub who had the sense to fall for a truly amazing dom. And that was a very good kind of sub to be.

Also in the Kinky Cupid Series

Once a Brat

Experienced dominant Marcus has a stalker. On the plus side, the boy who follows him around every time he visits his local leather club is both gorgeous and a self-professed submissive. On the other hand the boy is also inexperienced, bratty and liable to drive Marcus insane within his constant chatter.

Bret fell head over heels with Marcus the moment he saw him. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to get Marcus’s attention and prove his own worth as a submissive. Just because he isn’t a traditional sub, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a lot to offer a dom who can handle his quirks.

When Marcus gives in and agrees to do a scene with Bret, sparks soon fly. But, will it be a case of once a brat, always a brat?

Find out more about this title.

Base Over Apex

It’s Valentine’s at The Spread Eagle leather club, but the only sub Jack’s even spoken to belongs to his best friend, Marcus—and all Bret did was con him into taking a stupid bet. It is not going to be a good Valentine’s night…

The moment Jack sees Ricky walking naked through the bar, he wants him. When Ricky kneels at his feet and offers him the keys to his restraints, it’s obvious that his interest is returned. It might just be the best Valentine’s Jack’s ever had…

Ricky is sweet, and eager to please, and obviously new to leather. He’s the kind of guy who actually makes Jack wonder if “something at first-sight” might really be possible. But, when it suddenly becomes apparent that everything is not what it seems, the only thing Jack knows for sure if that this Valentine’s night is going to get very, very complicated.

Find out more about this title.

All the Gear

McCormack's damned if he'll be the next of Marcus's friends to find himself set up by Bret, and as Valentine's Day approaches, he's especially wary. But, apparently, it's not Bret’s plans for him he should be worried about.

When Mr Tomlinson asks McCormack for a favour, he finds himself going along with it, even though babysitting a novice who has all the gear, but no idea what to do with any of it, is the last thing he wants to do on Valentine's night.

Theo is nothing like the experienced subs McCormack usually plays with, but he soon finds himself captivated by Theo's clumsy yet earnest attempts to please him.

It really does seem like opposites attract, and everything is perfect—right up to the moment when McCormack discovers that one of his friends has a hidden agenda where Theo is concerned.

Find out more about this title.

Other books by Kim Dare

Series

Werewolves & Dragons

The Avian Shifters

FIT Guys

How I Met My Master…

Hearts and Handcuffs

Thrown to the Lions

Rawlings Men

Sex Sells

Sun, Sea and Submission

The Whole A-Z

Pack Discipline

G-A-Y Lust Bites

Perfect Timing

Collared

Stand Alone Novels

Pushing the Envelope

With a Kiss

Kim Dare has also written a number of free short stories.

You can find these on her website.

About the Author

Kim is a bisexual submissive from Wales (UK). First published in 2008, she has since released over 100 BDSM erotic romance titles ranging from short stories to full length novels. Having worked with a host of fantastic e-publishers, she moved into self publishing in 2013.

While she occasionally enjoys writing other pairings, most of Kim's stories focus on Male/Male relationships. But, no matter what the pairing, from paranormal to contemporary, and from the sweet to the intense, everything she writes will always feature three things - Kink, Love and a Happy Ending.

You can find out more about Kim's books on her website, follow her on Twitter and Facebook, catch up with her blog, and email her directly using the links below.

Website: www.kimdare.com

Twitter: www.twitter.com/KimDareAuthor

Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/kimdareauthor

Blog: www.kimdare.wordpress.com

E-mail: kim@kimdare.com