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AN: Sequel to Positive Reinforcement. Because it was eating my brain.


Mike heard the email ping on his phone but almost didn’t check. He was only 270 pages into a 1300 page brief he was working on for one of the other junior partners Louis wanted in his debt. He needed a break, though, so he looked.

It was from Jessica. Until now, Mike wouldn’t have imagined she knew his email. Logically, he realized he had to be in the company directory, but it still made him go a little cold inside. Direct contact from Jessica on a day when he was being punted around the firm like a football seemed ominous.

All the email said, though, was, “11 pm. Your choice.”

Mike went from cold to on-fucking-fire in the time it took to read the email. He had twenty minutes to get where he was going. Biking, he could manage it in roughly that time. He looked at the piles in front of him.

He stood. He could always come back to the office after.


Mike had his wallet out before he even walked in the door—he had a minute left to find the right room—but the guy upfront said, “You’ve been paid for. Room 4.”

“Um,” Mike said.

“Tall, gorgeous domme with lips like a goddess?” The guy asked.

“Right,” Mike said, and didn’t ask any further questions. He was late.

He sprinted down the hall to the right room, wishing he could strip as he went, but knowing it was considered gauche. Instead he pulled open the door, all-but-tumbled in, and was on his knees in a full penitence pose before he even managed to get the door shut.


The first voice Mike heard was definitely not the one he was expecting. Instead, an all-too-male, all-too-familiar voice said, warningly, “Jessica.”

Mike panicked. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten the wrong room. But he was unsure what the protocol was in the case that you were offered to your boss who seemingly wasn’t interested. Did he stay in submissive position? Get up, apologize and leave?

Jessica was saying, “He wants to be here, I promise, Harvey.”

Mike thought, well, yes, but I wouldn’t have minded a few more details…

“Stand up,” Harvey said, which solved Mike’s quandary. He stood.

“Look at me,” Harvey specified. Mike did as told.

“If you walk out of here, I won’t think less of you, I won’t mention it, it will never factor into your employment at all.” Harvey’s eyes were dark and serious and something else Mike couldn’t quite read, maybe uncertain.

But Mike knew all of that. He asked, “And if I stay?”

“Mike,” Harvey said, and if Mike hadn’t known Harvey so well, he would have said the tone was plaintive.

Mike nodded. “Master, or sir?”

“Sir,” came out, barely a whisper.

Mike stepped back. “How would you like this to start, sir?”

When Harvey said, “Clothes off,” he was back to being Harvey, calm and collected and sure, only, more.

Mike gave himself a second to remember how to move his muscles. Then he stripped.


When Mike was back on his knees, Jessica’s voice threaded through the room, low and even and in charge. “What do you want, boy?”

For a second, Mike thought he was asking her. Then Harvey said, “Skin on skin,” and Mike thought, Oh. OH.

Harvey said, “Safeword,” like a command.

Mike thought quickly, the first thing coming to mind being, “Puppy.” He closed his eyes immediately, but it was too late to take it back, the damage was already done.

Harvey had barely started snickering when Jessica said, “No. Not in here, boy. And I’d better not hear about it out there.”

Harvey said, “Yes, Mistress,” sounding properly chastised. Then he said, “Limits.”

“No humiliation,” Mike said tightly, still feeling a little sick to his stomach, even with the little thrill of pleasure Jessica’s rescue had brought. “No permanent marking, blood, vomit, scat or golden showers.”

“That it?”

“I have a safeword, sir.”

“Very well. Undress me.” Then, after a second. “No hands.”

Mike grinned. “Yes, sir.”


With Jessica, Mike’s desire to please had been heightened by the vague sense that she was his boss and possibly a mythological creature. With Harvey, it was about Mike’s need for approval, only intensified by roughly one million percent. Mike knew his hero-worship was neither mature nor healthy, but Harvey had literally picked him up off the fucking streets and Mike didn’t think anything short of years of therapy—and possibly medication—was going to cure him.

Mike undid every single one of Harvey’s buttons with his teeth and didn’t give into the temptation to lick anything else: he hadn’t been given permission. It took forever, and Mike was so hard by the time he was done he had to fight back a whimper, but it was done to perfection, and that was what Mike had wanted.

“Well done,” Harvey said, his voice curling with warmth. The last of Mike’s fear melted from him and he was boneless when Harvey lifted him up by his arms and drew him into a kiss. Harvey was in control of the kiss from the start and Mike didn’t fight. He wasn’t the sub you went to if you were looking for a challenge. Harvey kissed him until Mike validly couldn’t stand on his own and then dragged him the few steps to the bed, and drew Mike over his lap.

“Sweet, isn’t he?” Jessica asked. Mike had forgotten she was there. He didn’t mind, though.

“Like honey,” Harvey agreed, his voice low, a little rough. He ran his hand down Mike’s spine, nearly spanning the width of his back. Then he leaned over and whispered, “You can beg, if you want.”

Mike was getting used to hearing what Harvey didn’t say. So he heard the, I want to hear you beg, the, not that it will stop me. Mike knew he would beg, too—if that was what Harvey wanted, he would—but he wasn’t going to make it easy on Harvey.

The first smack of Harvey’s hand was a warm up, and Mike knew it. Mike used the second and the third to find a rhythm. Not that Harvey would allow that for long, Mike imagined, but he’d enjoy it while he could. Mike lost count in the twenties, but his instincts told him that he made it into the fifties before he gave into pleading. Harvey had long since moved onto the most sensitive parts, the thighs, the place where legs met ass. He wasn’t playing, either.

When Mike started begging, he couldn’t have said what he was asking for: to come or for the blows to stop. All he knew was he wanted, needed.

Harvey, because he was Harvey, waited until Mike was a sobbing, slobbery mess before he stopped and said—with the complete expectation that Mike would do it—“Hands and knees.”

Mike did.


The feel of Harvey’s tongue tracing over the heated flesh of his ass caused Mike to startle. Harvey paused. “Stay still or I stop.”

“Yes, sir,” Mike just barely managed. His arms shook and it took effort to breathe, but he stayed right where he was as Harvey took his time tasting Mike, kissing and biting and eventually rimming like he had all the time in the world.

Mike didn’t move, but Mike begged. Harvey ignored him.


Harvey pulled away and Mike whimpered, but he stayed where he was. There was sound behind him, Harvey and Jessica murmuring, but Mike was too caught up in the sensations of his body to pay attention. Harvey spoke up at some point—it could have been quite a while, or just a few seconds—and said, “If you can come from this, feel free.”

Then, “Inhale.”

Mike did, and the first drop of wax fell perfectly onto his spine. Mike moaned, but Harvey was taking it easy, he knew. If the wax wasn’t white, it was close. Light colored. It was the dark candles that hurt the most.

Down, down, down, Harvey took his time, making the impact of each hit matter. He did not space them evenly, did not allow Mike to adjust. Which was why, by the time Harvey went darker, Mike had already lost himself to the sensation. He cried out at the sharper pain, but then accepted it into himself, let it become part of pleasing Harvey.

When the first drop of what had to have been black—he thought the intermediate was maybe red—hit the already heated skin of his ass, Mike screamed, and came. He couldn’t say how he stayed on his hands and knees, except that it had been ordered, and Mike wasn’t about to disappoint. When he surfaced from the pleasure, another drop hit and Mike screamed and begged, “Too much, please, sir, too much,” but he didn’t move and he didn’t say his safeword.

Harvey listened this time, listened and murmured, “Good, good. You’re doing so well.”


Mike would never have admitted it, but he was relieved when Harvey took out the yards and yards of soft rope and with infinite patience, hogtied Mike, each knot precisely tied, the formation one Mike remembered from a book on Shibaru, read as a teenager, clandestinely, on the roof of the public library.

Jessica helped Harvey to hang Mike from the ceiling at a height perfect for Harvey to pull Mike to his waist. Jessica crouched down then, looking into Mike’s eyes, searching for something. She must have found it, because she smiled, and kissed him lightly on the lips. Mike tried not to follow her when she pulled away, but he knew he failed. She didn’t seem to mind, if the fond smile on her face was any indication.

Harvey changed places with her, then, and placed his cock at Mike’s lips. Mike murmured, “Please, please, sir.”

Harvey said, “Open up.”

The angle was hard, but Mike didn’t care, kind of liked it, liked showing Harvey he was good at this, even under less-than-perfect circumstances. Mike let Harvey choke him, let him induce tears.

He was rewarded by Harvey coming down to his level, kissing up the tears and feeding them back to Mike. Harvey bit Mike’s lower lip just enough for the pain to register and then pulled away and walked to where Mike couldn’t see him.

The fingers that slipped inside Mike were not Harvey’s. They were too familiar, too female for that. Mike found himself babbling, “Mistress,” and trying, despite his lack of control over his body, to fuck himself on her fingers.

“MmMm,” she said, withdrawing. “Still.”

Mike sobbed, but obeyed. She continued. When he was near to his breaking point, shaking so hard from refraining that he swore he would come apart, she pulled out, leaving him empty.

Not for long, though, since within seconds, Harvey had gathered the harness keeping Mike aloft and pulled back, driving Mike all the way onto his cock in one forceful movement. Mike groaned and babbled and begged, having no ability to maintain coherence. And that was before he heard the hitching gasp in Harvey’s breathing and felt the disturbance in rhythm that told him Jessica was behind Harvey, inside him, controlling his every thrust.

Jessica slid a finger inside Mike, alongside Harvey’s cock, and Mike honestly couldn’t have said who made more noise. Harvey was panting, forcing out words like, “fuck,” and “mistress,” and, “oh.” Mike was just allowing whatever broken noises he could manage to come out of his mouth.

“Michael,” Jessica said, sounding so unfairly calm.


“Can you come again?”

It would hurt like a mother bitch, but, “Y-yes, m-mistress.”

“Touch him, boy,” she growled at Harvey.

Harvey acceded with a shaky, “Yes, mistress.”

Harvey’s hand on Mike’s cock was awful, too much, perfect, everything Mike had ever wanted. At some point, Jessica ordered, “Come, boy,” and Harvey did, pulling Mike over that edge with him.


When Mike could think—at all—again, he blinked himself back to the sight of Jessica in front of him on the bed, Harvey eating her out. Her hand was in his hair and she was murmuring encouragement. Her gaze was on Mike.

Mike was still hanging, still tied. There was nowhere to go and he couldn’t look away. He got the feeling he wasn’t meant to.

Jessica’s lips curved into a smile.


They were as careful untying Mike as they had been tying him. Harvey didn’t even put Mike on his feet when he had been freed, just gathered him up in a baby hold and strode to the en-suite bathroom. Mike thought he should probably protest, but he wasn’t far enough out of sub-space to do so.

The two of them got him standing in the shower and used the lukewarm water to help soothe the worst of the inflamed spots on his body without getting him too chilled. There were soaps meant to help with the removal of the wax, and Mike floated while they took turns holding him up and carefully scrubbing him down.

Harvey laughed at certain points, but Mike didn’t think it was at him. It didn’t feel that way.

Harvey cleaned Mike’s hair, strong fingers moving over his scalp and Mike leaned his head back, baring his neck and looked at Harvey with the only expression he had in him at the moment.

Harvey said, “Jesus, kid,” and kissed him, water wet and after-scene-cautious. Mike drank it up.


Harvey carried Mike back to the bed, placing Mike between Jessica and himself. Mike told them honestly, “I have work. I have to go back.”

He couldn’t help that he couldn’t open his eyes as he said it.

Jessica pulled him in close to her, her skin just a little damp and infinitely warm. “If you tell anyone I said this, I’ll fire you, but it’ll be there in the morning, kid.”

Mike knew he should argue, but he was so tired, and Harvey was at his back, solid and impenetrable, and Mike didn’t know how to give the moment up. Harvey said, “Go to sleep, pup.”

That decided the issue.

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Skin by egelantier, photo by microbophile