Chapter 1

“Have you been a good boy, Timmy? Have you?”

Wesley grabbed a handful of the sub’s hair and pulled, raising the man’s face so he could see his eyes.

“No, Sir.” The sub breathed out the words, pupils wide, breath coming in pants. The scene had barely started, and Timmy was already excited.

Wesley hid a sigh at the realization, his mind already changing the script to account for the deviation. Timmy wasn’t supposed to give in this easily. He was one of Wesley’s regulars at The Dungeon, and he was a pain slut. All it took for Wesley to have him eating from the palm of his hand was to combine the pain with a bit of verbal humiliation. Not one of his preferences, but it came with the job.

“Bad boys need to be punished. Are you a bad boy?” Wesley tightened his hold on Timmy’s hair, making sure it was painful.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir what?”

“Yes, Sir, I have been bad.”

“Then you need to be punished. Are you ready for that?” Wesley whispered the words in Timmy’s ear, deliberately brushing his lips against the sensitive skin of the lobe.

Timmy shivered, letting out a silent gasp, eyes going darker and wider. “Yes, Sir.”

“Very well. Go to the chair there.”

Wesley released him. Timmy swayed and took a moment to steady himself. Wesley regarded him carefully, making sure he was close enough to catch him if he fell. On shaking legs, Timmy shuffled to the chair that stood by one of the walls.

“Bend over. Legs spread. Hands against the arm rests.”

Timmy obeyed immediately.

“Eyes forward.”

Wesley went to the toy cabinet. The butt plug he was wearing shifted and pressed against his prostate. The sphincter contracted, fighting what it regarded as an intrusion, and a small pang of pain shot through his groin. His cock stirred. Resting his forehead against the cabinet door, he dragged in a long breath.

The butt plug was a request from Connor, his partner. For years, Wesley had used the wearing of a plug during work, at home, or whatever as a punishment or trial for his subs. And now he had to wear one himself. Now he was the sub, at least with Connor.

Arousal coursed through him, making it difficult to think...which wasn’t wise. Not when he was a professional Dom, responsible for the life and safety of each submissive who crossed his doorstep.

Pushing his own feelings away, Wesley forced himself to focus. He shook his head to clear it, then checked the assortment of paddles, canes, crops, and whips The Dungeon provided in each room. He glanced back at Timmy, assessing his position. The sub was naked, bent over the chair, with his arms securely braced against it and his legs spread. His head was lowered, not looking directly at Wesley.

Wesley took a medium-length crop and headed over to Timmy.

“Very nice, Timmy. Very nice indeed.”

He ran his hand over the swell of Timmy’s buttocks, watching him shiver and arch his back. The touch turned into a slap.

“Did I say you could move, boy?”

The slap turned into a succession of sharp, open-handed blows which Wesley made sure to direct on the same spot. The sub bounced on the balls of his feet, breath hitching, the muscles beneath his skin trembling. The picture he was making—the submission of his pose combined with the strength of his body—was both humbling and empowering, and Wesley took a moment to enjoy it. No matter how many sessions or subs he had, such an image never failed to draw a reaction from him.

“No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

“That won’t cut it, boy.” Wesley struck again. “I want you to stand very, very still.”

He went back to caressing as he circled Timmy. The butt plug shifted again, distracting him. A wave of excitement mixed with pain radiated from it, and he had to bite back a moan.

Timmy half turned, watching the crop out of the corner of his eye.

“Can you do that for me, Timmy? Can you sit very, very still?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Eyes forward.”

Timmy snapped into position. Wesley estimated the distance between himself and Timmy, before bringing the crop down. He made sure to catch the cheeks square, only hitting the fleshy area. The crop flexed, conforming to the shape of Timmy’s ass. That was what Wesley loved about crops. They were flexible enough to give a little pinch, while not getting out of control and catching unwanted bits. Like cocks and balls. Or an eye.

The skin whitened, then reddened. Another blow landed just below the first, spaced perfectly from one end to another. He kept the blows soft, warming up the area. Wesley ran his free hand against the heated skin. Timmy shivered under the touch, a loud gasp shaking his shoulders. Wesley gave a little shudder of his own watching Timmy’s reaction, enhanced by the sensation of the toy in his ass.

Wesley hit him again, placing a new welt beneath the first two. This one was sharper. Timmy jumped, the gasp turning into a full cry. Wesley walked around until he was standing by Timmy’s shoulder. He used the tip of the crop to lift Timmy’s head, and searched the sub’s face and eyes, taking in the dilated pupils and swollen lips. There was no distress on Timmy’s face, so he felt that he could continue. From his spot, he could see Timmy’s cock jutting away from the patch of neatly trimmed hair covering his groin, its head red and glistening.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No, Sir.”

“Are you sure about that, boy? There are twenty more coming.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir what?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m fine.”

“That’s good, because I want you to count them.”

Wesley returned to his position at Timmy’s back.

“Start counting.”

The blows came in quick succession. Timmy rose on the balls of his feet, pushing his pelvis forward, trying to escape the bite of the crop.

“Back in position.”

Timmy obeyed.

“Where were we?”

“Ten, Sir.”

Wesley listened carefully to Timmy’s voice, noticing the dreaminess of it, and the slight strain, and decided to give him a little time to breathe.

He walked back around and tangled his fingers in the sub’s hair, lifting his head again, searching his eyes. They were hazed, wild, and wide. There was no real distress in them, yet Wesley could feel that Timmy was closer to the edge than usual. After walking back to his former position, he resumed, putting less force behind his blows. He hadn’t struck very hard to begin with, and normally Timmy’s pain tolerance was high, but today seemed to be different, and Wesley didn’t want to take any chances.

When the scene ended, Wesley walked the room, cleaning up and setting everything in order. A small pang of pain reminded him of the plug he was wearing. He stopped what he was doing, giving himself time to understand what he was feeling. Stop and think. That was the advice he always gave his subs, so it had to be a good idea.

For a moment, during the scene, he hadn’t thought he’d pull through. That little toy had proven to be an incredible distraction. Pain, arousal, adrenaline, and excitement at the situation were almost too much to bear. But once the scene had started in earnest, he’d pushed everything to the side. His own discomfort hadn’t mattered anymore. Hell, he’d barely felt it, his entire being focused on the man on his knees in front of him.

The phone ringing pulled him from his thoughts. He smiled to see his lover’s name displayed on the screen.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Wes. How’re you doing, babe?”

Wesley broke out in goosebumps at the sound of his lover’s voice. At thirty-five, he wouldn’t have expected to experience such a feeling. He smiled to himself, closing his eyes to better focus on Connor. “I’m good. You?”

“Thinking of you. What are you doing?”

Thousands of butterflies fluttered around in Wesley’s stomach at Connor’s confession.

“Setting things in order after a scene.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Wesley shrugged, unsure what to answer. He liked his job, but it was just that: a job. His enjoyment was not in the requirements. He considered himself a sort of counselor, nothing more, and he didn’t allow himself to take much pleasure from the scenes he held. The fun came after working hours, at home or, before Connor, in a fetish club, where he could fulfill his own fantasies, outside the confines and rules of The Dungeon.

“Yeah, it was fine.”

“Are you wearing it?”

Wesley pushed the phone tighter against his cheek, his muscles giving an involuntary clench. Connor didn’t have to clarify to what he was referring too. Wesley already knew: the butt plug. Thinking of it had his muscles clenching around it, pleasure, mixed with a slight discomfort, shooting through him.

“Yes.” He couldn’t stop his breath from catching as he answered.

“Good.” At the other end of the line, Connor gave a similar hitch, but Wesley could hear the smile in his voice. “Are you hard?”

Wesley’s cock gave a little jerk, as if drawing attention to itself. “Yes.”

“Did you touch yourself?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

“God, yes.”

“Hmm.” Connor’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you hard for me? Can you imagine my hands stretching you?” The words poured into Wesley’s ear, each of them evoking an image, and each image translating into a sensation. Warmth spread through his body as he pictured himself in the arms of his lover.

At the other end of the line, he heard the rustle of clothes and the sound of a zipper being lowered. His eyes snapped open as the meaning sank in. Wesley swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, as he imagined Connor with his cock in his hand.

“Can you feel me against you?” Connor’s tone lowered even more. There was the sound of movement, and Wesley could imagine Connor, cock in hand, stroking himself.

“Yes.” Wesley breathed it out.

Keeping the cell pressed against his cheek with his shoulder, Wesley’s hands dropped to his fly and he tugged at his belt, trying to get it undone. Whimpering, he fought harder against the stubborn buckle.

“You are not to play with yourself.”

Wesley froze. He wasn’t that surprised that he wasn’t allowed to play, but his mind still rebelled at the thought, just as a new surge of adrenaline washed through him and his balls drew tight, as if in disagreement with the request.

“Is that clear?” It was spoken in an even tone, but it bore an underlying command that couldn’t be ignored.

Wesley shuddered, his arousal almost overwhelming by then. He wanted—no, needed—to touch himself. A few tugs would be enough to put him over the edge. Yet, he found himself nodding.

“Yes, Sir.” The title slipped out easily, the command marking the transition between the initial flirting and commencement of the scene.

Connor answered with a moan.

A shiver ran down Wesley’s back, just as his cock gave a heavy throb. He could feel himself dribbling into his underwear, the fabric sticking to his cock, his release impossibly close. Wesley closed his eyes and locked his jaw in an attempt to stave off his orgasm.

“You know what I want?”

“What is that, Sir?”

“You, on your knees in front of me, sucking my cock.”

A whimper escaped Wesley’s lips.

“Would you like that? Would you like to suck me off?”

Wesley clutched at the last strands of his control, the images Connor’s words evoked pushing him to the brink.

“Would you like that?”

“Yes, Sir.” His voice broke on the Sir, and Wesley fisted his hands, nails digging into his skin.

The soft moan coming from Connor turned into a familiar groan that Wesley knew marked the beginning of his orgasm. Wesley swallowed his whimper, his need to come almost unbearable.

“Oh God, I would so love to feel your hot mouth around my cock.” His voice broke. “To have you swallow me whole.”

“Oh God.” Wesley couldn’t refrain from talking.

“I would come down your throat.” The rustle on the other end of the line became faster, frantic, and the groans turned into cries. “Would you like that, Wes?”

“Yes. Very much.”

A sharp inhale marked the beginning of Connor’s climax. Wesley clenched and unclenched his fists, fighting for control. He could see Connor in his mind, see his eyes roll back, the chords in his neck straining with tension. Wesley craved the contact, the touch of his partner’s skin. His smell.

“Did you come?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good boy, Wes. I’m proud of you.”

Despite his discomfort, Wesley preened under the praise.

“You will not touch yourself until you get home tonight.”

Wesley wetted his lips and glanced at the clock on the wall. He had two more appointments, and that meant it would be at least three hours until he could get home. Annoyance, mixed with excitement, shot through him at the prospect. He groaned and nodded, forgetting for a moment that Connor couldn’t see him.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Very good. Now, how are you?” The tone changed, the command gone, putting Wesley at ease.

“Horny out of my skull and late for my next appointment.” Wesley glanced at the clock above the door, already listing in his mind the things he still had to do to prepare himself and the room for his next client.

“Other than that.” There was genuine care in Connor’s voice.

Tension and stress drained away until it no longer mattered that his balls were probably blue, or that he would have to hurry to make his appointment, and Wesley felt himself smile. “I’m good.”

“I love you.”

The simple acknowledgement had Wesley’s heart swelling with joy.

“I love you too. I’ll see you at home in a few hours.”

Still smiling, Wesley put the phone back in his pocket. Things were indeed good. Wesley didn’t know where the year had gone—a little over eleven months to be exact. Wesley had been nervous about entering a relationship with Connor at first, with both of them being Dominants.

Never having submitted to anyone before, the fact that he wanted to do just that with Connor had shocked him. Even more surprising had been his reaction to the submission itself. During that first scene, it was like a veil had been lifted from his eyes, as if a whole new world had opened up in front of him. Which was ironic, considering his line of work.

He had feared what submitting to Connor might mean for his career at The Dungeon. And it had been difficult at first, so much so that he’d had to take time off to put his thoughts and feelings in order. Once he’d managed to do so, everything had clicked into place: the personal life he’d started building with Connor and his professional one.

To his surprise, he’d discovered that submission in his personal life had made him a better Dom at work. He was more attuned to his subs.

With a final look at the time, Wesley returned to his task, the warmth of his conversation with Connor still lingering inside him.

 

****

The day finally over, Wesley hurried home, to the place he now shared with Connor. A little over two months ago, they’d sold their former homes and bought a house to suit both of them.

He stepped through the entrance, into the spacious hallway. He dropped his coat and immediately headed for the bedroom. He opened the door and stopped on the threshold, taking in the sight that awaited him.

There were lit candles set around the room. The bed was turned down, a light flogger and a set of leather handcuffs placed in the center. Wesley swallowed, excitement and arousal coursing through his system as he searched for Connor. His heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Connor was seated upon the loveseat by the window. The candlelight played on his face, adding a new depth to his features.

“Come in.” Connor’s tone left no doubt that a scene had begun.

Wesley shuddered under the force of the command. He obeyed instantly, stepping inside. The door swung shut behind him, making him jump.

“Strip.”

Maintaining visual contact, Wesley unbuttoned his shirt. Once open, he shrugged it off his shoulders. Connor followed his every move, his gaze leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

The pants were next. The zipper was easy, but the leather was far more stubborn. After a full day wearing the leather pants, the fabric clung to his legs, making removing it in haste problematic. He tugged and pushed until, finally, he was free of the annoying piece of clothing. During his undressing, Connor’s eyes had remained trained on him, adding to his struggle. The butt plug shifting inside of him made matters worse.

He had grown somehow accustomed to wearing it—a sort of numbness had settled in—but this new series of movements had caused his muscles to contract around the base again, sending fresh waves of sensation though Wesley.

“Socks and briefs as well.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Once he was completely naked, he stood tall, legs slightly spread, facing forward. His cock jutted free, half hard and getting harder under Connor’s gaze.

“Beautiful. Did you play with yourself today?”

“No, Sir.”

Connor climbed to his feet and walked up to Wesley. He stopped right in front of him and wrapped his palm around Wesley’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. It was far gentler than Wesley had expected. Or wanted. A mere brush of lips against lips.

Wesley gasped when the kiss ended, and leaned in, his body following Connor’s.

“Welcome home.” A shiver ran through Wesley when Connor’s breath tickled his cheek.

Connor released him, but instead of walking away, he stepped even closer, their chests touching. Wesley’s nipples hardened at the brush of Connor’s shirt. He jumped when Connor reached around him and twisted the base of the plug.

Eyes squeezed shut, Wesley swayed, but he kept his position as best as he could, his hands remaining at his sides.

Strong arms steadied him. “Easy there.”

Connor’s hot breath wafted over Wesley’s skin, making him break out in goosebumps. His cock throbbed, rubbing against the denim of Connor’s jeans. It felt both soft and rough against his sensitive skin. A moan escaped Wesley, his thighs giving an involuntary thrust in search of more friction.

A playful slap landed on Wesley’s ass cheek. Arousal spiked. Connor threaded his fingers through Wesley’s hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat. The scrape of teeth against his neck had Wesley shivering.

Connor stepped back, and Wesley swayed again, mourning the loss of contact.

“Go lie on the bed. Facedown.”

Wesley obeyed, walking the short distance to the bed on shaky legs. He climbed up and assumed the required position. His cock rubbed against the sheets as he settled in, trapped between him and the mattress. He gave a little wiggle, trying to find a more comfortable position. A slap landing on his ass stopped any further movement.

“Spread your arms.”

Wesley complied, stretching his arms to the side. Soft leather encased his wrists, clasps securing the cuffs in place. Thin chain connected them to the bedposts. Wesley tested them, happy that they were stretched to the max, giving him some room to maneuver.

“I will not bind your legs, but you are to remain still. And you’re not allowed to come. Is that clear?”

Wesley had expected that, but hearing it still rattled him. He wanted—needed—to come. Yet, he knew there would be no orgasm without Connor’s permission.

“Yes, Sir.” Wesley tensed in anticipation.

Still, the suede of the flogger took him by surprise. There was no pain, just the caress of the soft fabric. He jerked, clenching around the plug.

Connor walked around the bed, dangling the toy from his fingers. The ends of the chords brushed Wesley’s skin, teasing the backs of his knees, his thighs, his back. The touch was barely a whisper, barely there, but it was enough to inflame Wesley’s senses. The pillow under him absorbed his groan as he shuddered. Then the caress was gone, replaced by a sharper touch.

The tips bit into Wesley’s skin when Connor twirled the flogger around. Just like before, the contact was uneven. It caught him here and there, and each time left him guessing what was still to come. The bite was uneven as well, but it didn’t really hurt. Not yet.

Wesley could feel his body growing warmer, heavier. Then Connor brought things up a notch. The twirling of the flogger increased, its bite more intense. Wesley tugged on the cuffs. Stretching his hands, he wrapped his fingers around the chains, bracing himself for what was to come.

But instead of the pain he was waiting for, there was sweetness again. The suede caressed his body in long strokes that threatened his control. Connor replaced the toy with his hand and ran his fingertips along Wesley’s spine. He seemed hot against Wesley’s flesh. The caress trailed down his back, pausing just above his buttocks, before moving down, along his ass crack.

Connor circled the base of the plug, not touching it. “So beautiful.”

The touch was gone. Wesley let go the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. His body remained tense, prepared.

“Lift your ass.”

Wesley thrust his butt out, arching his back.

“Gorgeous.”

Connor caressed the curve of his cheeks, before spanking them. There was no real pain; Connor kept it light. Still, Wesley squirmed when the rippling of muscles shifted the plug, making it press against his prostate.

The blows landed again and again, but none held any force. Yet, Wesley felt each of them down to his core. He pushed back, desperate for more.

“So hot. So beautiful.” Connor’s whisper spurred Wesley on, enhancing the feelings the play evoked.

The mattress dipped when Connor joined him on the bed. The weight of his body on top of Wesley felt amazing. He pressed back against Connor’s groin, begging for more. With each move, his cock rubbed against the sheets, pushing him closer to the edge. He knew that if Connor kept this up, he wouldn’t be able to hold his orgasm.

Connor shifted on top of him. Through the fabric of Connor’s pants, Wesley could feel Connor’s dick pushing into his ass. Connor humped against Wesley, shifting the plug around. It squeezed down on Wesley’s prostate in long, deep thrusts.

Warm lips tickled Wesley’s neck. Wesley arched, pushing back into Connor. Teeth scraped his skin, and goosebumps covered Wesley’s body at the contact. He felt himself leaking, the arousal almost unbearable. He clenched his teeth, fighting to get himself under control. His knuckles whitened around the chains.

Connor tangled his fingers in Wesley’s hair and pulled his head back hard. It hurt, but the pain barely registered, masked by the adrenaline and endorphins coursing through his veins.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” He wanted nothing more.

“To feel my cock in your ass?”

Wesley’s butthole gave an involuntary twitch at the words, clamping down on the plug.

“Yes.” He could barely get the word out. His back was arched, pulled back by Connor’s hold. Through half-closed eyes, he stared blindly ahead, his focus solely inward.

Wesley groaned when Connor’s weight disappeared from on top of him. But before he could voice his protest, Connor was back. He nudged Wesley’s legs further apart and settled between them.

At the first touch of Connor’s fingers on the base of plug, Wesley cried out. Knuckles brushed against his heated skin, as the tips of Connor’s fingers caught the edge of the base. Slowly, the toy was removed. His sphincter, no longer held open, contracted. There was relief in the emptiness it left behind, but it only made him crave more.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes.”

Cool liquid was poured over Wesley’s hole. He clenched, his muscles fighting the cold.

“Hush now, it’s just the lube.”

Wesley didn’t need any stretching, but his entrance was sensitive, and he appreciated the care Connor exhibited when he spread the lubricant around. Connor caressed and massaged Wesley’s sore flesh until his muscles relaxed again. The coolness disappeared, replaced by an unbelievable heat. It wasn’t scorching him but warming him up even more.

Just when Wesley thought he would melt, he felt the tip of Connor’s cock rubbing against his skin. It circled his hole, before pressing against the entrance. It slipped inside, painfully slow. Wesley gasped. He felt himself opening again, stretched to the max. It was too much. Then the head was in, and Connor paused, giving him time to adjust.

God, Connor felt huge.

Wesley breathed through his teeth, overwhelmed. Connor massaged Wesley’s sides in slow circles. At the first touch, Wesley jumped. Then his muscles gave, and he relaxed into the caress.

“That’s it, baby.”

Connor slid all the way in.

“Oh, God.”

Still giving him time to adjust, Connor leaned in, his chest pressed against Wesley’s back. Wesley moaned and pushed back, urging Connor on. Connor sighed, his breath tickling Wesley’s ear, and pulled back, before thrusting in again, picking up the rhythm.

Wesley pulled his knees beneath him and braced himself. Connor pushed up onto his hands. His thrusts became deeper, longer. Connor slid in and out, stretching Wesley even further.

“Oh, yes. Fuck, that’s good.”

Sweat broke out, covering Wesley’s body in a thin layer. Connor shifted, changing his angle.

Wesley gasped as Connor’s cock rubbed his prostate. Pleasure shot through him. His breath hitched. Eyes squeezed shut, Wesley froze. Tension built. He let out a strangled groan, burying his face in the pillow.

“You are not to come,” Connor grunted out. A sharp slap on Wesley’s ass marked the command.

No. He couldn’t wait. Not for a moment longer. Not when Connor was hitting his sweet spot on every stroke and the tip of his cock rubbed the sheet with each powerful thrust. The cotton felt rough against his sensitive skin—abrasive. The touch was too much, and yet not enough.

Wesley pulled on the chains and swore when he couldn’t shake his hands free. He wanted to touch himself. He had to come. He couldn’t hold it off any longer. Yet, he struggled to comply with Connor’s command.

Connor’s rhythm broke. He ground into Wesley, his breath ragged, his thrusts short and frantic. Wesley pushed back, taking him deeper. The cock in his ass felt bigger, harder. His own jerked in response. The sounds Connor made—half moan, half cry—were driving Wesley crazy.

“Come.”

For a second, Wesley froze, unable to process what he was hearing.

“Come for me!”

Wesley exploded, coming in long spurts. He clamped around Connor’s dick. With a loud cry, Connor came, fingers digging into Wesley’s flesh. Connor fell on top of Wesley, fighting for breath.

His soft cock slipped out of Wesley’s hole, and still he didn’t move. Despite the weight, Wesley was happy for the contact. After a while, Connor let himself drop to the side, his hand resting across Wesley’s back.

“Are you all right?”

Wesley turned his head and smiled. “Better than that.”

Connor leaned in and kissed his shoulder, answering with a smile of his own. “You did well.”

Wesley preened under the praise, happiness spreading through him. Life was good.

Connor snuggled up to him, drawing idle circles across Wesley’s back. And Wesley’s eyes fluttered close, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him.

***

 

“Hey.”

A gentle shake woke him. Wesley opened his eyes and struggled to focus. The smell of pancakes reached him then, and he snapped awake, his stomach growling madly.

“I thought you might be hungry. You fell asleep without eating.”

Connor sat on the edge of the bed, holding a tray. Wesley took in the contents. Besides the pancakes, there was bacon, sausages, a tomato, and a diced bell pepper, as well as a large mug of milk coffee.

“You made me breakfast.”

Wesley pushed himself to a seated position and leaned back against the headboard. Connor placed the tray in his lap, and then picked up his own cup from the nightstand before sitting down beside Wesley.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” A warm smile tugged at Connor’s lips, his love shining brightly in his eyes.

The first bite of the pancakes had Wesley groaning in pleasure.

“These are divine.”

Connor lifted his coffee in acknowledgement. “I didn’t have the chance to ask you how your day was yesterday.”

Wesley lifted one shoulder in a show of indifference, but he couldn’t conceal his blush. “Other than having my prostate probed at every move—fine. It was a long day though.”

Connor grinned at the mention of the plug, one of his brows quirking in challenge. When the second part became clear, the grin disappeared, though, and the quirk turned into a frown.

“Has the plug caused any problems?”

Wesley considered saying yes, knowing that Connor would not ask him to wear one again, but honesty was paramount. “No, nothing of the sort.”

“You know that I expect you to tell me immediately if any problems occur.”

Wesley cupped Connor’s cheek, tracing the edge of Connor’s lip with his thumb. “I know.”

“What else?”

Shrugging, Wesley took a sip of his coffee. “One of the subs had a lower pain threshold than usual, but other than that, nothing.”

“Do you know why that happened?”

“No. He left after the scene, and I haven’t had a chance to talk to him.” Wesley took a bite of bacon. The taste filled his mouth, making him moan of pleasure.

Connor regarded him carefully. “And you’re worried about him?”

“Some.”

“You know that tolerance varies depending on external factors. Stress, exhaustion, or sickness.”

“I know. You’re right.”

“You can see how things have changed next time you see him. Or, if it’s not with you, talk with the Dom in charge of the next session.”

“That’s what I was planning to do.”

Setting the now-empty plate aside, Wesley lifted the steaming mug. As soon as the first sip touched his tongue, he felt better.

“Now, what about you? How was your day?”