Trusting Thomas E-Book

K.C. Wells

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 478

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

Collars and Cuffs: Book Two Christmas is a time for goodwill to all, but Collars and Cuffs co-owner Thomas Williams receives an unexpected gift that chills him to the bone. A Dom from another Manchester club asks Thomas for his help rescuing an abused submissive, Peter Nicholson. Thomas takes in the young man as a favor to a friend, offering space and time to heal, but he makes it clear he's never had a sub and doesn't want one. Peter finds Thomas's home calm and peaceful, but his past has left him unwilling to trust another Dom. When Thomas doesn't behave as Peter expects, Peter's nightmares begin to fade, and he decides he'd like to learn more about D/s life. A well-known trainer of submissives, Thomas begins to teach Peter, but as the new submissive opens up to him, Thomas finds he cares more for Peter than he should. Just as he decides it's time to find a permanent Dom for Peter, they discover Peter's tormentor is still very much a threat. With their lives in danger, Thomas can't deny his feelings for Peter any longer. The question now becomes, can Peter make it out of the lions' den alive, so that Thomas can tell his boy that he loves him?

Leseprobe

By K.C. WELLS

NOVELS

LEARNINGTO LOVE

Michael & Sean

Evan & Daniel

Josh & Chris

COLLARS & CUFFS

An Unlocked Heart

Trusting Thomas

Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SWSte 2, PMB# 279Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Trusting Thomas

© 2013 by K.C. Wells.

Cover Art

© 2013 Cover photo by Terry J Cyr.

Cover design by Paul Richmond.

http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-62798-328-0

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-329-7

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

October 2013

For Will Parkinson,

My friend and ally.

And, apparently, my psychically linked twin.

This one is just for you.

“Thank you” doesn’t cover it.

Not by a long shot.

My thanks to James Masters

for his wonderful list, which became Thomas’s rules.

100 Things a Dom/Master Should Know

Published by James Masters at Smashwords

Copyright 2012

And to Max Vos

for the inspiration for a certain ritual.

Thank you.

Prologue

One week before New Year’s Eve

THEY certainly know how to throw a great party, I’ll give them that.

Steven Drummond gazed at the festivities with mixed feelings. The Christmas party at the BDSM club, St. Andrew’s, was in full swing and everyone was having a good time. So why I am feeling pissed off? Steven shook his head and drained his glass of wine. That would be his one and only drink tonight. He glanced at the young man by his side. David couldn’t keep his eyes off the group of subs who had congregated near a table that groaned under the weight of party food. Steven snickered. He knew exactly what David was thinking.

“Boy?”

David immediately turned his head. “Yes, Sir.” David focused on Steven’s chest, and Steven swelled with pride. The young man had the makings of an excellent submissive.

“You may join the other subs, if you’d like.” Steven didn’t fail to notice the flash of joy in those expressive blue eyes. “I know I can trust you to behave as you should.”

David beamed. “Thank you, Sir. I won’t let you down.” He moved gracefully to join the others, who greeted him effusively. David laughed as they surrounded him, joking and giggling.

“Is that your new sub, Steven? He’s looking good.”

Steven turned around to greet Alan Marchant, his friend since Alan joined the club six months ago. Steven liked him straightaway. There was a no-nonsense air about him, and he had a nice manner with the subs.

This praise of David delighted Steven. “He’s going to be a damn good one,” he admitted with a satisfied smile.

Alan smirked. “That proud gleam in your eye looks good too.” He glanced around the club. “St. Andrew’s has pulled out all the stops for this do.” He gave Steven a searching glance. “I take it their money worries have all been sorted out, then?”

Steven scowled. It was no secret the club had been through three changes of management in the last year, and he fervently hoped there would be no more. True, the place definitely looked better, and someone had certainly spent a lot of money. The recent changes were not all to the good, however, as far as Steven was concerned. He looked at the men standing around. He recognized a few of the Doms, but there were a great many new faces.

“I find myself wondering if the entrance procedures are as rigorous as they once were,” he muttered as he spied a familiar face among the crowd. Not for the first time, he wondered who had vetted Curtis Rogers’s application. The man had been a member for about six months, give or take, and after seeing him with one or two of the subs, Steven had voiced concerns. He felt Curtis was too rough. But he’d been told in no uncertain terms his suspicions were unfounded.

“I know what you mean,” murmured Alan, his gaze alighting on Curtis. “No way is that man a trained Dom.”

Steven gave Alan a sardonic grin. “My best friend trains Doms,” he said as Alan tilted his head. “He has strict rules he drums into every Dom who passes through his hands.” He returned his gaze to Curtis. “And that man would fail every single one of them.” He scowled. Thomas would have run Curtis out of the club in a heartbeat. Steven had spoken with Curtis on a number of occasions, and his opinion of the man had not improved.

Curtis approached a table where a slender, pale young man knelt, leashed to the chair leg. In direct contrast to the laughing, happy subs who chatted with David, this boy kept his head bowed. His shoulders were hunched and everything about his body language screamed misery. Hands hung limply by his sides. Steven had the impression the lad had folded in on himself, shutting out the outside world.

Steven itched to know more about him.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he murmured to Alan, who arched his brows when he saw the object of Steven’s focus and then nodded once in acknowledgment. Steven walked as casually as he could toward the table, straining to hear what passed between Curtis and his sub. As he neared them, he was able to pick up their conversation.

“Straighten up, boy,” Curtis hissed. “Shoulders back. Are you trying to shame me again in front of all these Doms, you sorry excuse for a sub? Christ, I swear, every time I bring you here, you act up.” He towered over the kneeling sub, who straightened immediately, but apparently not quick enough for his master. Curtis aimed a blow at the kneeling submissive, sending him sprawling with a loud thud as he connected with the hard wooden floor. “Now get up and stop looking so fucking nervous!”

Steven inhaled sharply. He watched the sub struggle to right himself. And it was then he saw the bruises. There were lots of them. On his arms. Half hidden by his shirt. His face. Christ, the boy was a mess. He trembled, his gaze darting agitatedly between the floor and Curtis.

Steven regarded the men surrounding this scene. No one moved or spoke. That brief glance decided him. He would not renew his membership at the end of the month. He couldn’t be part of a club where such unwarranted violence toward a sub went totally unheeded. But right now there was a more pressing problem, and Steven needed some advice.

He walked back to Alan, wrinkling his brow. Alan watched him approach with widening eyes.

“What the hell did the sub do, exactly?”

Steven shrugged. “Beats me. Nothing that warranted being knocked to the ground, that’s for sure.” He half turned, trying to spy Curtis with his peripheral vision. The boy was kneeling once again, eyes downcast, while Curtis talked animatedly with another young man.

“That’s Curtis’s new sub,” Alan explained under his breath.

Incredulous, Steven gazed at Alan. “He has two subs?” Alan nodded, looking beyond Steven to where Curtis stood. Steven’s lip curled. “This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be taking on another sub, not when he treats his existing one so poorly.”

“Sir?” David touched Steven’s arm tentatively. Steven hadn’t heard him approach. The sub’s expression was troubled.

Steven straightened. “What is it, David?” He kept his voice calm. David was clearly flustered.

“Sir, I have to talk to you. It’s important. Is there somewhere we can go, somewhere more… private?”

Steven thought for a moment. “Come with me.” He led the way to one of the private rooms near the bar, and David followed him inside. Steven closed the door and leaned back against it. “Okay, David, talk to me.” David’s breathing was ragged, his cheeks flushed. Something was wrong.

“Sir, I was talking with one of the subs, a guy called Christian. He was telling me about his master’s other sub, Peter. He was telling me his master likes to….” David swallowed nervously.

“Go on, boy,” Steven encouraged him. David breathed deeply.

“Sir, it seems his master beats Peter—a lot.”

Steven was unsure what to say. His sub was reasonably new to the lifestyle. He could have no conception of what it was to be a pain slut. He pondered how best to explain it.

“David, some submissives like a lot of pain.” He got no further. David’s eyes met his, and Steven jerked in surprise at this unaccustomed behavior. David gazed earnestly at him.

“No, Sir, forgive me, but that’s not the case here. Christian made a comment that concerned me. He said, ‘I didn’t think Peter was a pain slut, but Master says he is. As much as he gets beaten, I guess he must be.’” David shivered. “It just didn’t sound right, Sir.”

Steven thought fast. “Do you happen to know his master’s name?” His heart sank as he asked the question. All of a sudden he had a bad feeling he knew what David’s reply would be.

David nodded slowly. “It’s Curtis Rogers, Sir.” He shuddered, clearly upset by the situation. Steven put his arm around the boy’s shoulders, feeling the tremors that rippled through him. He pulled David against him.

“Easy there,” he murmured. “I need to speak with my friend for a moment, and then we’re going home. All right?” David nodded and seemed to calm himself. “Good boy. And thank you for telling me. You did the right thing.” He waited until David was once more in control of his emotions and then led him from the room. Alan was hovering outside, concern evident in his expression.

“Everything okay?”

Steven gave him a brief nod. “I’m going to take David home now. And then I think I need to make a phone call. That best friend of mine that I mentioned earlier? He runs a BDSM club. I need his advice here, Alan, before I step in and do something stupid.”

Alan regarded him thoughtfully. “Then by all means, take some advice. And let me know what you decide to do.” He clasped Steven’s hand firmly. “If you need anything, you have my number.” Steven gave him a look of gratitude before turning to his sub. David watched the two men solemnly.

“Come on, boy. Let’s go home.”

“SOWHAT do you think I should do?” Steven asked. He stood by his lounge window, looking out over the Manchester city center skyline. Two days had passed before he had the opportunity to call his best friend, Thomas Williams. Christmas obligations had taken precedence, unfortunately.

Thomas’s snort reverberated in his ear. “I know you, Steven. You want to dash in there on your white horse and rescue the sub in distress, don’t you?”

Steven pulled a face. “Am I that obvious?”

There was a brief silence at the other end. Finally Thomas spoke, his tone earnest.

“Steven, you don’t know what’s going on. You don’t have all the facts. You’ve been given the tiniest glimpse into this boy’s life—and it’s not enough.” He paused, giving Steven time to mull over his words. “Is there any way you can get to see Peter in his home? See how Curtis treats him when they’re away from the club?”

Steven thought quickly. “I could always call round there to inquire if Curtis is going to the New Year’s Eve party. Apparently, they’re going to have a sub auction—for charity—and I don’t know if he’s aware of it.”

“Are you well enough acquainted with Curtis to do that? What I mean to say is, would your appearance at his home arouse his suspicions?”

Steven considered Thomas’s question. It was a valid one. “We’ve spoken on a number of occasions,” he admitted, “so I’m not exactly a stranger. I could ask if his subs will be going, as if I’m checking on numbers or something.” The excuse sounded lame, even to his ears.

He heard Thomas expel his breath. “If you insist on checking this out further, you’d better make it an excellent performance. From all accounts, Curtis Rogers isn’t a man I’d wish to cross.”

That got Steven’s attention. “What have you heard?”

Thomas cleared his throat before speaking. “Only rumors, if I’m honest. It seems Mr. Rogers is mixed up with some pretty undesirable elements and has his fingers in too many pies, shall we say—some of which are probably illegal.”

The more Steven heard about Curtis Rogers, the more he disliked the man.

“That settles it. I’m going to call round there.” He spoke decisively.

“Fine—but get back to me, please, once you’ve seen him.” Thomas coughed once. “And Steven? Don’t do anything until you’ve talked to me. I mean it.” Steven knew that authoritative tone. He’d seen many a submissive and Dominant quake when on the receiving end of it.

“I promise.” Damn, the man knew him far too well.

STEVENpulled up outside Curtis’s gate and paused with the engine still running. His jaw dropped. Whatever Curtis did for a living, it must pay very well. The house was a palace compared to Steven’s three-bedroom city-center apartment. A long, sweeping gravel driveway led to a large building that could only be described as ostentatious. Two cars stood in front of the double garage, and Steven estimated their combined worth to be nearly two hundred thousand pounds. He spent a moment admiring their sleek lines. He was a sucker for a fine automobile.

Swinging his car off the road and into the driveway, Steven drove toward the house. He parked across from the two cars, exited and locked his Volvo, and approached the front door. Before he could ring the bell, the huge, ornate wooden door opened slowly. Steven recognized Christian from the party.

“Good afternoon. Is your master at home?”

Christian nodded and stepped aside to let Steven enter. “Come this way, sir. I’ll inform my master you are here.” He led Steven into a light, airy hallway featuring a large, opulent staircase. After opening a door to his left, he directed Steven to enter. Steven found himself in a large lounge with an inglenook fireplace dominating one wall and three leather sofas arranged around it. “Please take a seat, sir. My master will join you shortly.”

Steven sat on the nearest sofa, eyeing the paintings and various ornaments. Curtis had spared no expense, it seemed. The Christmas tree in the window stood at least nine feet tall. Its branches were hidden from view by the vast amount of baubles that adorned it.

“Admiring my interior decorator’s handiwork?”

Steven rose to greet Curtis, who eyed him speculatively. Curtis was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater. He approached Steven with an outstretched hand, his lips pursed.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, Drummond?”

Steven shook his hand, feeling surprisingly nervous all of a sudden. He went through his prepared story.

“Yeah, I’ll be going to the party,” Curtis said. “Christian here is up for auction.” He indicated the sub with a brief flick of his hand. “He should raise quite a bit for charity, don’t you think? A good-looking boy.” He leered at Christian.

“I should think so,” Steven murmured noncommittally. “And are you going to auction your other sub too?”

Curtis scowled. “At this rate, Peter won’t be allowed to go. We’ll have to see. Speaking of which….” Curtis walked to the door and opened it, then shouted into the hall. “Peter! Where’s that tea?” He looked back at Steven, his scowl deepening. “That boy… I swear he’s more trouble than he’s worth.” He returned to where Steven stood and gestured to the sofa. “Sit, Drummond. The tea will be here shortly… if that boy knows what’s good for him.” Curtis’s eyes narrowed. He fixed Steven with a steely gaze. “Was that your only reason for coming round?”

Steven thought on his feet. “Well, if I’m honest….” He glanced around the room. “I heard at the club you got a great new house.” He gave an embarrassed shrug. “I was curious to see how the other half lived.” He held his breath, hoping to appeal to the man’s vanity.

Curtis puffed up, his chest swelling, and Steven heaved an internal sigh of relief.

“Ahh, now I understand!” Curtis beamed. “Gorgeous, isn’t it? Cost me a pretty penny too.”

The door opened, and Peter entered, carrying a tray laden with a silver teapot, cups, saucers, a milk jug, and sugar bowl, plus a plate of cookies. He approached the waiting men hesitantly. As he neared the low coffee table, he stumbled slightly, slopping the milk onto the tray. He looked immediately toward Curtis, and Steven had trouble repressing the shiver that ran down his spine. The fear in those eyes….

“You stupid—” Curtis took one step toward Peter, and the sub flinched, leaving Steven in no doubt he expected to be struck. He cowered, squeezing his eyes shut, awaiting the blow that never came. Curtis caught sight of Steven’s face and straightened hurriedly. “Put down the tray, and then get that cleaned up.” His jaw clenched, Curtis enunciated every word carefully, but there was an underlying tone that chilled Steven. Peter’s face was white as he left the room in a hurry, then soon returned with paper towels to mop up the relatively small amount of spilled milk.

Steven took this opportunity to study the boy. He estimated Peter to be in his midtwenties. The bruises he’d spied at the club looked worse in the light of day. They encircled the boy’s slender wrists, rising under the long-sleeved shirt he wore. But the bruising on the boy’s face…. Peter glanced up fearfully at him before hurriedly lowering his gaze, and Steven tried to put as much reassurance into his returning glance as possible. Curtis’s attention was fixed on the sub.

“You can go now,” he gritted out. Steven watched Peter’s speedy exit; he’d never seen a sub move so fast to get out of a master’s presence. Curtis poured Steven a cup of tea, and Steven helped himself to the milk. He didn’t want to drink tea, damn it. He wanted to get out of there. He wanted to ring Thomas. Steven sat back and made polite conversation, trying not to steal glances at the clock on the mantelpiece. His skin felt as if it were crawling. The first thing he’d do when he reached his apartment would be to take a long, hot shower. He needed to get clean.

“I’MTELLINGyou, it felt… wrong.” For an articulate, intelligent man, Steven had difficulty identifying his emotions. Before calling Thomas, he’d sat at his dining table staring off into space, his thoughts totally fixed on the sub. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced Peter was being mistreated. The deciding factor had been Peter’s facial expression. There was not the merest hint of joy or even happiness in that expression. Rather, the haunted, fearful look in Peter’s eyes refused to let go of Steven, hours after he’d gotten out of there.

He heard Thomas’s patient sigh at the other end of the phone.

“Okay, you’ve sold me.” Thomas sounded resigned. “What do you want to do?”

That was the easy part. Steven knew exactly what he wanted to do. The problem would be how to get his best friend and former trainer to agree.

“I’m going to get him away from Curtis.”

Thomas let out a dry chuckle. “That much I’d already surmised. My question is… how?”

Steven took a deep breath. Now for the tricky part.

“I’m going to go to the New Year’s Eve party and see if he accompanies Curtis. If he’s there, I’ll distract Curtis somehow. There’s a friend of mine who might help with that part. And when the opportunity presents itself, I’ll make my move.”

“And if he’s not there?”

“Then there’s only one other place he’d be… at home. Which is where I’ll be heading.”

Thomas fell silent for a moment. Steven braced himself for what he knew was coming. Sure enough….

“What makes you think Peter will be in a position to answer the door? And if he is, do you really think he will let you waltz in there and take him? What if he doesn’t want to go? What do you do then?”

“I don’t know, all right?” Steven winced. He didn’t mean to shout, but he was playing it by ear here. “My bigger problem is, what I do with Peter if I manage to get him out of Curtis’s clutches.”

The pause at the other end seemed heavy. “What do you mean?” Thomas’s tone was suddenly cautious. Yeah, no one could ever accuse Thomas of being slow on the uptake. The man’s mind was as sharp as a razor.

“He can’t stay here, Thomas. I couldn’t train David and care for an injured sub. David’s needs come first. And Peter would need a lot of care.” Steven closed his eyes, and that pale, bruised face swam behind his eyelids. “So I was thinking of bringing him to you.” He held his breath, waiting for the outburst from his friend. He didn’t have to wait long.

“And what makes you think I can look after him?” Thomas’s voice rose.

“Thomas, you don’t have to be at that club of yours 24-7, do you? You don’t have a submissive of your own. You live alone—unless that’s changed?” He waited for Thomas to jump in. Silence. Steven plunged ahead. “Okay, then you’re in a much better position than I am to look after him.” He fell quiet, secretly urging Thomas to agree. The silence continued for a few moments. Steven began to worry.

Thomas cleared his throat. “You’re a pain, Steven, do you know that?” Steven held his breath. “Very well. Ring me on New Year’s Eve and keep me fully apprised of the situation. I mean that, Steven. I don’t want to receive a phone call from Greater Manchester Police informing me you’ve been arrested for breaking and entering, as well as kidnapping.”

Steven let out his breath in a long exhale. Thank God.

“I promise. I’ll let you know what’s happening every step of the way.”

“There’ll be times when you might not be able to reach me. We’ve got a collaring ceremony taking place that night, and I’ll be involved.” Steven couldn’t miss Thomas’s quiet sigh. “I’ll keep my phone on me, okay? If you can’t get through at first, keep trying. I mean that, Steven.” The authoritative edge to his voice was once more in evidence.

“Understood.” Steven couldn’t stop his smile. “And thank you, Thomas.”

“I must be mad,” Thomas murmured. “What the hell am I letting myself in for, I wonder?”

“It’ll just be for a little while,” Steven said. There was a gruff noise from the other end.

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

One

New Year

“PETER’Sdefinitely not here, Sir,” murmured David. Steven straightened.

“You’re sure? You’ve looked everywhere?” He heard every word, in spite of the music booming through the speakers. Everyone was talking, laughing, dancing….

David dipped his head once. “And I also overheard Christian talking. I might have misunderstood, but I’m sure he said something about Peter being in a cage tonight.”

Steven went still. “You’re sure he said ‘cage’?”

David nodded, his eyes wide. “He didn’t really mean Peter is in a cage… did he? I mean, he shouldn’t be in the cage if his master isn’t present.” Steven’s heart swelled. David remembered everything he was taught. Not for the first time, Steven thought how proud he was to have David as his submissive.

“Liste\n to me, boy.” He cupped David’s chin, lifting it so the sub was forced to look at him directly. “Curtis Rogers is not a Dom, all right? He has no right to call himself Peter’s master. And we are going to get Peter away from him so he can learn what it means to be a submissive, if that’s what he wants.”

David’s gaze never wavered. He nodded slowly, swallowing.

“Then I need your help.”

David composed himself quickly. “What do you need me to do, Sir?”

Steven gave him a quick grin and kissed his cheek. “Good boy.” David’s blush was delightful. “I need you to keep a lookout for me. I’m going to find Curtis’s car keys, because hopefully there will also be a set of house keys attached.” His grin widened as David inhaled sharply. “Come on, then. Let’s go to the parking bay.”

Dom and sub made their way through the throng of partygoers toward the back of the club, where the boys who did the valet parking were sprawled on chairs, drinking Cokes. The back door was open, despite the chill winter’s air: the boys were smoking. Steven turned to look at the wall behind him and saw a board with many hooks laden with keys, all neatly labeled.

“Right,” he whispered to David, “you go strike up a conversation. Keep them talking for about five minutes, then meet me outside the club. Okay?” David nodded and headed for the three boys. Steven hurried to the board and searched rapidly through the myriad bunches of keys until at last he spied Curtis’s name. With a triumphant smirk he grabbed the set of keys and cast a darting glance toward his sub. David was chatting animatedly with the boys, who were laughing and joking with him. Good boy. Steven glanced at his watch. Ten thirty. Plenty of time to get to Curtis’s house, grab Peter, take him to Thomas, and then get back here to replace the keys. At least he knew Curtis would be staying put until midnight. The sub auction wasn’t due to happen until just before twelve.

Abruptly, Steven’s heart began to race. Okay, so maybe what he was about to do was slightly illegal. Hell, who was he kidding? It was damned illegal, but he kept telling himself the end justified the means. Peter couldn’t stay with that brute a second longer. He needed rescuing.

THEhouse was virtually in darkness.

“Shouldn’t we be worried about an alarm, Sir?” David peered out anxiously through the car window.

Steven shook his head. “He’s not likely to have set the alarm if Peter is inside, is he?” Well, Steven fervently hoped the alarm wasn’t set. “Come on, let’s have a look around.”

As silently as possible, the two men got out of the car and walked up to the house. The only light visible came from a lamp softly glowing in the large front window and the wall light next to the front door. Steven peered at the window. No sign of Peter. Then he reasoned: As if Curtis would leave Peter where he could be seen. He motioned to David to follow him, and they took the path that led along the side of the house until they arrived at the huge expanse of a garden. Steven glanced at the windows again. A faint light shone from deeper within the house. He took out his phone and activated its flashlight function to examine the lock on the back door. After glancing down at the keys in his hand, he let out a quiet whoop of triumph.

“We’re going in.”

Stealthily, they crept inside. They found themselves in a large kitchen filled with shiny appliances and black marble work surfaces. “Head for the light,” he whispered and went toward the open kitchen door. The light came from a room off the small hallway.

“Master? Christian? Is that you? Who’s there?”

Steven stiffened at the sound of Peter’s voice, which quavered. He edged his way carefully into the room… and stopped.

In the corner sat a cage about four feet high and three feet wide. Peter raised his head from his curled-up position on the floor of the cage. His wrist and leg restraints were connected by chains to a thick loop of steel suspended from the roof of the cage, allowing him little movement. A bottle of water sat beside him. He wore a thin pair of sweatpants and an equally thin T-shirt. His feet were bare.

Peter’s eyes grew round as he saw the two men approach the cage.

“I-I remember you,” he whispered, his gaze alighting on Steven. He glanced at David, who smiled kindly at him. Instantly, Peter froze. “You have to leave! He could be back any second!”

Steven gave the small room a cursory glance. A set of keys hung from a nail on the wall… ones just about the right size to be the keys for Peter’s restraints. He grabbed them and opened the cage door. It wasn’t locked: no need—Peter wasn’t going anywhere. Clumsily, Steven fumbled with the restraints, his hands shaking.

“You’re coming with us,” he said firmly. Peter shook his head, aghast.

“I can’t! I can’t leave my master!”

“Boy, I don’t have time to wait. We need to get you out of here now.”

Peter trembled violently. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I can’t leave him—he won’t let me. He’s my master. He would beat me if I tried to leave.”

“Then we’re going to get out of here before he comes back.” Steven stared at Peter. “Will you come with me?” Stubbornly, Peter shook his head. “Then I will just have to carry you out.” Peter howled in protest as Steven pulled him gently from the cage and then hefted him up over his shoulder. At five feet eleven and with well-defined musculature, thanks to his hours spent in the local gym, Steven had no problem carrying the slight sub. All the fight promptly went out of Peter, and he sagged against Steven, a deadweight.

David led the way out of the house and locked the door behind them.

“Sir, if you want to go in the back with Peter, I can drive, as long as you give me directions.”

Steven gave his sub a fond look. “That’s okay, David. I’ll strap Peter into the front seat, and then I’ll drop you outside the club. Can you get the keys back to the parking board?” David nodded. “We’ll wait outside for you. Then we’ll take Peter here to Master Thomas’s house. Once Peter is safe, you and I can go home. You did really well, David. As a reward, you’re sleeping in my bed tonight… when we eventually get to sleep, that is.”

David beamed with pride, and his sharp intake of breath and happy grin spoke volumes.

Steven chuckled. He’d always planned on fucking the boy tonight—nothing like letting the New Year in with a bang—but he wanted to go to sleep with his submissive in his arms. And judging by the contented expression on David’s face, his sub wanted that too.

First things first, however. While David was returning the keys to their rightful position, Steven would ring Thomas. Better warn the man they were on their way—with a houseguest for him.

THOMAS WILLIAMSwas pacing his lounge floor. He couldn’t help it. Ever since Steven’s phone call, he’d been restless. The call had arrived a short time before midnight. He couldn’t believe Steven had actually gone through with it. He glanced continually at the clock above the fireplace. When he knew Steven was finally on his way, via St. Andrew’s club, Thomas had slipped out of Collars & Cuffs after leaving a brief note for Leo. Despite his present anxiety, the thought of his business partner caused Thomas to smile. When he’d last seen Leo, he’d had his arms around Alex, the two men lost in their own world as they kissed lovingly. No way was Thomas about to interrupt.

He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to ignore the churning in his belly. Catching sight of himself in the gold-framed mirror above the fire, he grimaced.

“You’re getting too old for this shit.” He shook his head. What was he thinking? He was fifty-five, nearly fifty-six, far too old to be taking on the responsibility of a new submissive. Training subs was a game for a younger man, he reasoned. Then he caught himself. He wasn’t training Peter, for God’s sake. He was simply giving the boy breathing space, helping him along the road to recovery. That much, he could do. What Peter did after that would be entirely up to him.

Thomas examined his reflection. His hair was totally gray, but, thank God, it was still full and thick. The club lawyer, Peter Willoughby, was bald, and it somehow seemed right for him. Thomas shuddered. The thought of going bald filled him with horror. Because once that happened, it really would feel as though he was getting old. He leaned closer, peering at the mirror.

“You don’t look too bad for your age, Williams.” Thomas shook himself. Such introspection and vanity wasn’t like him, but he put it down to the present situation, which had him rattled. The uncertainty of it all was what put him out of step. He hadn’t a clue what to expect when Steven eventually walked through his front door. Steven had described Peter’s condition, and Thomas thought the first order would be to let the boy sleep. From the sound of it, Peter was in dire need of some care and attention.

Footsteps outside—his visitors had arrived. Thomas hurried to the front door. Steven and his sub had Peter between them, supporting his arms on their shoulders. Thomas gave a quick glance along the quiet, deserted street. Not a soul to be seen. He held the door wide to allow them entry and then directed them into the warm lounge. Steven eased Peter down onto the sofa and then straightened. Thomas inspected the boy. Peter was tall, maybe five nine, but he was painfully thin. His clothing gave no protection against the cold winter’s night, and he shivered constantly. Longish, straggly brown hair framed a pale face. Peter’s eyes were closed. What was all too evident, however, was the bruising. Thomas scowled and let out what could only be described as a low growl. No one deserved to be treated in this way. There was no excuse.

Peter’s eyes opened wide at the sound, and Thomas cursed himself when he saw the fear in those green eyes, which were almost the same shade of green as his own. They were a lovely shape, framed with dark lashes. They’d be even more beautiful without the shadows that surrounded them. Peter stared up at him with his lips pressed tightly together, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak.

“You’re safe here, Peter.” Thomas spoke quietly, making his voice as soothing as possible. “My name is Thomas Williams. I’m going to be taking care of you for a while.” He waited.

Peter shook his head. “I-I can’t stay here. He’ll come looking for me. And when he finds me….” Peter shuddered and closed his eyes. “He says I can’t leave him—ever.” He sagged back even further into the sofa.

For a moment, Thomas considered this statement. Why would Curtis tell the boy he couldn’t leave? Something here required investigation, but this was not the time. He turned to Steven. David stood slightly behind him, watching Peter. Thomas noted that David had said nothing. Steven was obviously training him well.

“Okay, you’ve done enough for one night.” Thomas gave Steven a wry smile. “Thank you for delivering Peter, but now you two need to get out of here. Do you still have some partying to do?”

Steven said, “No, as far as I’m concerned, the party’s over. But we have some celebrating of our own to do—don’t we, David?” He waggled his eyebrows, and David let out a smothered giggle.

Ah, that kind of celebrating. Thomas couldn’t help smiling. “Off you go, then,” he said, ushering them toward the door. Steven stopped for a moment and grabbed him in a fierce hug. Thomas smiled. He was very fond of Steven. The man was an excellent Dom, but an even better friend. “I’ll be in touch,” he said quietly.

Steven nodded. “You can also expect two applications crossing your desk soon. I’m changing clubs. And I might be bringing another Dom with me.”

Thomas nodded. With everything he’d heard in recent months about St. Andrew’s, it didn’t surprise him to hear Steven might want out of there.

“I look forward to receiving them. But just so you know… you will receive the same rigorous grilling everyone gets who wants entry to my club.”

Steven laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He clasped Thomas’s hand firmly. “Thank you, Thomas. Really.” Thomas merely nodded. Steven glanced at David. “Come on, boy, let’s go home and get you in my bed.”

David’s slight gasp of embarrassment and flushed cheeks were a pleasure to encounter. Thomas watched them as they got into the car and drove off. He closed the door and bolted it securely before returning to the lounge to check on Peter. His heart gave a slight stutter when he caught sight of him. Peter was asleep, clearly exhausted from the evening’s activity. Thomas gazed over his inert form. Okay, time to see what other horrors awaited below the clothing. Time to bathe his houseguest.

He slipped his arms under the sleeping boy and lifted him, cradling him easily. Christ, there was nothing to him. He pulled Peter against his wide chest, feeling him stir in his sleep. A low, troubled moan escaped the boy’s parted lips, and Thomas made soothing noises. Peter’s eyes opened, and for a second he regarded Thomas fearfully.

“Hold on, lad.” Thomas kept his voice low. Peter reached up and around Thomas’s neck, pushing his face into the soft fabric of Thomas’s thick shirt. “That’s it. Good lad.” Carefully, he carried Peter into the hallway and up the wide staircase. The boy was so light, he was no great burden to carry. Thomas reached the upper landing, heading straight for the bathroom. Once there, he placed Peter into a wicker chair and stepped back. Peter slumped with his chin lowered to his chest, bereft of all energy, letting his hands hang limply over the arms of the chair.

Thomas had thought to put the boy in the shower, but seeing him in this state changed his mind. He turned on the faucets, filling the large Victorian-style tub rapidly. Steam soon filled the air. A thought occurred to him, and he reached into the cupboard below the washbasin for a bottle containing lavender bath oil. He sometimes took a bath to wind down after a hard night at the club, and the lavender soothed him, often lulling him into sleep in the tub. He poured a capful into the warm water and then brought his attention back to the fatigued boy.

“Okay, lad, let’s get these clothes off of you.” Peter’s eyes flew open, and it was all too easy to read the panic there. The boy shuddered. Thomas held out his hands, palms up. “Easy, lad. I’m simply going to bathe you. You’re in no state to be left alone right now. And to be honest, you are not the first person I’ve bathed—not even close.”

Peter’s face turned ashen and he hugged himself. His gaze darted to the door behind Thomas before returning to stare at Thomas’s outstretched hands. He gripped the arms of the wicker chair so tightly his knuckles went white. He began to shake uncontrollably.

Thomas gazed at Peter without blinking. “Peter. You have to trust me, all right?”

Peter fixed him with a panicked stare for a few moments longer. His chin trembled. Then, to Thomas’s relief, he nodded once. Thomas gave him a half smile.

“Good lad.” He tugged at the hem of Peter’s T-shirt and pulled it up and off, trying not to stare at the dark smudges that marred Peter’s chest. A thin leather collar lay around his neck. Thomas went to unfasten it, and Peter reached up instinctively to prevent him. Thomas waited, saying nothing, and Peter lowered his hands. Thomas removed the collar and dropped it with the T-shirt onto the floor. After unfastening the cord around the boy’s waist, he slipped the sweatpants past Peter’s slim hips, down to his ankles, and removed them completely. Now nude, Peter immediately covered his genitals. Thomas said nothing but held out a hand to the boy. After a moment’s pause, Peter slipped his hand into Thomas’s and grasped it tightly. Thomas helped him to stand, then supported the lad as he climbed carefully into the tub. It was then Thomas caught sight of Peter’s back, and he had to bite his lip in an effort not to cry out.

What was before him was a crisscrossed map of scars, some old, some clearly new. They spread out across his shoulder blades, reaching down as far as the swell of his arse. It was obvious no one had tended to the boy; some of the newer scars seemed infected. Thomas would need to treat these injuries before he let the boy sleep. He could only guess at how Peter had suffered at the hands of his former master.

Peter sat in the tub, staring vacantly. He brought up his knees and wrapped his arms around them, hugging them. Thomas knew a defeated submissive when he saw one. This lad had no fight left in him. He picked up a soft washcloth and the bottle of bodywash. Peter no longer looked at him. Thomas shook his head. If he ever got his hands on Curtis Rogers….

“I’m going to wash you now, Peter.” He spoke quietly, careful to let Peter know what was going to happen so the boy didn’t jump out of his skin. He poured a generous amount of bodywash onto the now-damp washcloth, then gently wiped the lad, moving the soft lather over his body. Peter closed his eyes. His only reaction was to shiver when Thomas reached his back. Thomas winced. “I’ll see to your back once we’re done here.” He gently disengaged one of Peter’s hands from around his knees and handed him the washcloth. “If it makes you feel better, lad, you can wash your cock, balls, and arse.” Peter glanced up at him warily, and Thomas nodded. Drawing in a deep breath, Peter knelt up in the warm water and proceeded to clean himself. Thomas looked away. He wasn’t in the least bit embarrassed, but he figured it would put Peter at ease to know Thomas wasn’t watching him.

“Done, Sir.” The two words took Thomas by surprise. He turned back to the boy. Peter held out the damp cloth with his eyes lowered, and Thomas took it and placed it behind him in the washbasin.

“Okay, lie back and get your hair wet so I can shampoo it.” Peter obeyed in silence, lowering himself carefully into the water, wincing as his back came into contact with the surface. “Easy, lad. This won’t take long.” Peter raised himself up on his elbows, and Thomas opened the shampoo, poured himself a handful, and then gently lathered it into Peter’s hair. Peter closed his eyes again, and Thomas tried to make the movement as soothing as possible. He slipped an arm under Peter’s shoulders and lowered him back down, then swirled the water over his hair to remove all traces of shampoo.

“Up you get, lad.” He helped Peter to stand and reached for a thick bath towel from the radiator. After wrapping it around the lad, he pulled the tub’s drain plug and then held out both hands to help Peter step gingerly from the tub. “Can you sit on the edge of the tub, Peter? I want to look at your back.”

In silence, the boy wrapped the towel around his hips and then perched on the edge, half turning so Thomas could clearly see the extent of the damage. From the bathroom cabinet, Thomas removed a tube of antiseptic cream and some cotton wool. Carefully, so carefully, he patted Peter’s back dry with another warm towel and then wiped the cream into each separate wound, taking his time. Peter didn’t make a sound, sitting there with his back straight, staring off into space. Now and again he stiffened, and Thomas eased off and waited until the boy relaxed once more. He handed the boy a smaller towel and indicated his hair. Peter rubbed at his head until the hair was virtually bone dry while Thomas worked at his task. Once finished, Thomas put the cream to one side, stood, and grabbed a dark-blue toweling robe from the back of the bathroom door. He held it open, and Peter slipped his arms into the sleeves, then wrapped it around himself and tied it tightly. He grabbed his clothes from the floor.

“Follow me, lad.” Thomas led him into the spare bedroom, next door to his own. He’d already made up the bed after Steven had first called. Thomas pulled back the cover and duvet. “In you get.” Peter placed his clothing on the chair and climbed into the bed, and Thomas pulled the duvet to cover him. Peter curled up on his side immediately, facing away. Thomas regarded him for a moment. He couldn’t begin to imagine what thoughts were passing through Peter’s head right now. He only knew there was a long way to go before Peter’s fears gave way to trust. He listened as Peter’s breathing changed and the boy slipped quickly into a deep sleep.

Thomas left the bedside lamp lit and walked as silently as possible from the room, pulling the door to but not closing it completely. He padded quietly downstairs and went into the lounge and closed the door behind him. He glanced at the clock: almost one in the morning. Leo would still be at the club. After poking the logs on the fire, he settled into his large, squashy armchair and reached for his phone. His call went to voice mail.

“Leo, I know it’s late, and the party’s probably still going strong there, but would you and Alex come round here in the morning? There’s something I need to tell you. It’s nothing to worry about, but it is important. Make it after nine, okay? I’m tired out and heading off to bed. I’ll have breakfast ready for you both. How’s that? Thanks, Leo. See you in the morning.”

He hung up the phone and then cast a longing glance at the brandy decanter. Right now a small glass of brandy sounded like a great idea, but not with Peter upstairs. Thomas wanted to keep his wits about him tonight. He didn’t have a clue how Peter would pass the night, but he wanted to be alert for any eventuality. He had a feeling he might be having quite a few alcohol-free days in the not-too-distant future.

Two

Misunderstandings and Decisions

“COMEon in, you two.” Thomas stood aside to let Leo and Alex into the warm hallway and hurriedly closed the door behind them. In spite of the hours since he’d last seen them, the happy expressions they’d worn at the party were still in evidence. Suspiciously so. “Er… anything you want to tell me?” He arched his brows and fixed Leo with a searching gaze. Leo gave a casual shrug, but Thomas caught the brief flick of his eyes toward Alex, who flushed bright red. Both men looked tired but contented, and Thomas decided to leave the matter there. Doubtless Leo would let him know at some point.

“All right, Leo, go into the lounge and enjoy the fire. You’ll soon warm up.” He glanced at Alex. “And you, pup, can help me in the kitchen with the coffee. Breakfast won’t be long.” Alex let out a giggle. Yeah, something was definitely up. He crooked a finger and beckoned Alex to follow him. Alex gave Leo a last longing, backward glance. Thomas chuckled. “He’s not going anywhere.” Alex laughed at that. Thomas led him into the large kitchen and directed him to the coffee machine. Maybe he could get Alex to divulge something. Then again….

LEO HARTstretched out his long legs toward the welcome heat of the fire. Living in a Victorian house had its advantages. He’d love to have an old-fashioned fireplace like this in the apartment, but it simply wouldn’t fit in with his decor. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth, the sound of the crackling logs, the slow tick of Thomas’s grandfather clock. Everything combined to create a sense of peace that pervaded the room. He loved spending time in Thomas’s house. He could hear Alex’s laughter in the kitchen. His lover was in such a good mood. A slow smile crossed Leo’s face. They’d gone home from the party and spent a good hour working out a contract. Alex wanted to formalize their D/s relationship, and Leo was delighted to oblige. Of course, once the details were sorted, Alex had wanted to celebrate. However, their “celebrations” carried on into the early hours, neither man wanting to call a halt to their coupling. All in all, it was a wonderful way to begin a new year. Leo’s smile increased as he thought back on their negotiations. The new year promised to be very interesting indeed.

A slight noise caught his attention, and he opened his eyes to look toward the doorway. A pale, slender young man stood there, bundled up in a blue robe, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Leo stared in astonishment. Who the hell was this? The young man spotted him, and Leo watched him stiffen. He clearly hadn’t expected to find Leo there. Leo stood, and the young man’s eyes widened. Hell, Leo sometimes forgot that, at six three, he could be a daunting figure. He hastened to put Thomas’s guest at his ease.

“Good morning. I’m Leo Hart, Thomas’s partner. Thomas invited me round.” A look crossed the boy’s face. Leo could swear the boy looked disappointed—and saddened. He sighed dejectedly and his shoulders slumped. With shuffling footsteps, he crossed the room and slowly lowered himself to his knees before Leo. He reached with trembling hands to grasp the buckle of Leo’s belt and began to open it. What the fuck?

“SOAREyou going to tell me why you’re looking so happy this morning?” Thomas teased as he peered into the oven, where cooked bacon and sausages were warming. Alex let out another delighted giggle. Thomas had to smile. Alex had changed so much since their first meeting back in June. Mind you, so had Leo. The two men were obviously good for each other. He hadn’t seen Leo this happy in a long while. In fact, in the two and a half years since the death of Leo’s former lover and submissive, Gabe, Thomas had often thought never to see his business partner happy again. He glanced toward Alex, who was pouring out the coffee into large mugs and smiling to himself. “Not going to tell me, huh?” He chuckled.

Alex met his eyes for the briefest moment before lowering them hastily, smirking. Thomas shook his head. The lad did not like making eye contact, which was probably just as well, seeing as he was now Leo’s submissive. Thomas was glad things seemed to be settling down between the pair, even if he’d had to step in—twice—to sort out Leo’s messes.

“Thomas? Could you get in here, please?” Leo’s call reached him from the lounge. It held a note of agitation that made both Thomas and Alex look up in surprise. Thomas put down the oven cloth he held and walked into the lounge, with Alex close behind him. Thomas came to a dead stop. Peter was on his knees before Leo, who held him firmly around the wrists. Leo’s belt was unfastened. Peter simply knelt there with his head bowed, but Thomas could see the boy was shaking.

“I see you’ve met my houseguest, Peter,” Thomas said dryly.

Leo’s face was a picture of embarrassment. “Your ‘houseguest’ was apparently all set to give me a blow job,” he muttered. Thomas quirked his eyebrows. The lad hid his face against Leo’s belly. As Leo gazed down at him, his expression changed. He let go of Peter’s wrists and gently helped him to his feet.

Thomas addressed the lad. “Peter, why would you do this?”

Peter blinked. “Isn’t that why you brought your friend round here? So I could service him?” His voice quavered.

Thomas was horrified. For a moment he was too shocked to speak. What had this poor boy been subjected to?

“No, Peter. That’s not what’s going to happen. I would never ask that of you. Ever.” He spoke quietly but forcefully. He wanted there to be no misunderstanding. “Why would you think I expected you to do that?”

Peter lowered his chin. “That’s how I was taught, Sir,” he murmured. Thomas gaped in frank bewilderment. His previous thought returned to prod him. What the fuck had Curtis Rogers done to this boy? Thomas needed some thinking space—and he needed to talk to Leo.

“Peter, I’d like you to go back to bed for a little while. I’ll fetch you downstairs for some breakfast once my guests have left. Okay?” Peter answered with a small nod, without making eye contact.

Thomas turned to Alex, who was watching the scene openmouthed. “Alex, would you please take Peter upstairs to his room? He’ll show you where it is.” Alex nodded, his gaze fixed on Peter. A thought occurred to Thomas. “And, Alex? You might want to have a chat with him before you come back down. See if he can tell you what just happened here.” Alex gave another nod of assent and walked up to the lad and took his arm.

“Come on, Peter,” he said pleasantly. “Let’s get you back to bed, shall we?”

Thomas gave him a look of approval. Smart boy. Peter was plainly agitated, and perhaps Alex might be able to work out what was going on in his head. Peter looked down at the hand resting on his arm and then at Alex’s kind expression. His chin dipped twice abruptly, and he allowed himself to be led from the room.

Leo exhaled loudly. “Want to tell me what’s going on now?”

Thomas sighed. “You’re going to need some coffee first.” He walked back into the kitchen, picked up two mugs, and brought them into the lounge. Leo was still standing in front of the fireplace, staring down in disbelief at the spot where Peter had knelt. Thomas handed him a mug and then sat in one of the two armchairs that bracketed the fire. Leo eyed the mug. “Sit down,” Thomas began patiently, “and I’ll tell you what I know.”

For the next ten minutes, Thomas relayed everything, from Steven’s initial phone call to the dramatic way in which Peter had been taken from his home. Leo whistled.

“Your friend Steven is either very brave or very reckless. What if he’d got caught?”

Thomas looked down at his half-empty mug. “I don’t think that occurred to him, to be honest. Or if it did, he pushed it aside. He was hell-bent on rescuing Peter.” Thomas glanced up at the ceiling. “And now that I get a glimpse of what the lad’s been through, I have to say I’m glad Steven stepped in.”

“So what are you going to do with him?”

Thomas gave a shrug. “In the first instance, I’m going to take care of his physical needs. The boy needs feeding up, for a start. And his back needs some attention. Secondly, I’m going to give him some breathing space until he decides what he wants to do next.”

Leo shook his head. “I’m not sure you know what you’re letting yourself in for with this lad. From the look of things, he’s going to be needy. Do you have the time to deal with that?”

Thomas gave a faint chuckle. “That’s why I called you round here. If I’m going to do this, I’ll need to free up some time. You might have more hours than usual at the club. Would that be a problem? And you’d have to take more stints as Dungeon Master, or else choose another reliable Dom to take my place. Personally, I’d recommend Jonathon. I think he’s more than up to the task.”