I'm not likely to forget someone slapping my butt with a big piece of wood.

And since I am a man, I would appreciate it if you would cry for us both, gatita.

Okay, you’re older. Not much, really. And considering you love staying in shape and I refuse to run, we’ll probably get all old and crippled at the same time. If not, then I’ll learn to use a cane, and I’ll get to beat on your ass for a change.

A good relationship is a two-way street, gatita. Submitting and serving is equaled by a master’s need to take control, to protect, to make someone happy.

So, so sorry. Really sorry. Master. Sir. Emperor of the world. God of the universe.

If you keep all those thoughts inside, your brain will explode.

An older dom snorted. “Atherton uses the word escort loosely. The last time someone messed with a trainee, he threw the guy across the bar. Strolled over, waited for the idiot to stand up, punched his lights out, and dragged him by his jacket collar out of the place. Escorted him, my ass. Didn’t even wrinkle that fancy suit.” He took a sip of his beer and added, “Atherton is invariably polite, but nobody in their right mind fucks with his trainees.

You know I still don’t like your…hobby.”“Didn’t ask your opinion.” Jake rubbed his aching ribs. “If you want mine: anyone using the missionary position twice in a row should serve time.

Darlin’, I wasn’t just a Boy Scout, I was an Eagle Scout.