A Strong Hand

off?"
    "You said not to," Nick said, as if that was self-evident.
    Damian nodded. "I'm very proud of you. You did well."
    Nick's lips curved in a tremulous smile. "Thank you, sir."
    "Go make me a coffee," Damian said, and gave him a little swat.
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    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford
    Nick's eyes darkened with desire but he turned obediently and made for the door.

    * * * *
    Ashley arrived with a young man in tow, with tufty dark hair and amazing green eyes. His voice was noticeably colder as he ordered, "Make yourself useful, Derek."
    "Sure," the young man said agreeably, although his gaze was resentful. "How's it hanging, Damian?" he asked the photographer with a familiarity that stunned Nick and also made him jealous.
    Then Derek came up to Nick and asked, "Are you one of the models?"
    "No, I'm just the assistant, but they asked me to model a couple of things for this catalog," Nick answered modestly, wondering if he would ever be able to talk to Damian with such familiarity. "My name is Nick Sayers."
    "Oh, the assistant. You have my old job. I'm Derek Stearns. Boy, you wouldn't catch me dead wearing any of that gear," Derek declared, glancing over his shoulder to see if Ashley was within earshot. "Eyeball those chicks. Man, they're tough."
    "You fancy the birds then?"
    "Not really. I'm more of a man's man, if you get my drift."
    "You're an American, aren't you?"
    "Yeah. Came over to get some life experiences before I buckle down to real work. I've traveled all over Europe; it's a real lark over here. Hey, doesn't this stuff of Ashley's give you the willies?" Derek asked curiously.
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    "No, not at all," Nick lied boldly.
    "Well, better you than me then," Derek shrugged. "Want me to do that?"
    "No, I know how Damian likes his coffee, but you could go downstairs to get the pastries, and Ashley usually takes a latté," Nick suggested.
    "Yeah, I know. Okay, where do I go and how many do I get of what?" Derek asked.
    Nick told him and handed over some money. After Derek left, Ashley came into the kitchen and said, "I hope you don't mind wearing something a little unusual today, Nick. I had it made just for you. I'm starting a new line, and I think it'll be a hit."
    Damian strolled in and said, "I think perhaps you should have consulted me first on that, Ashley."
    Ashley nodded vigorously. "You're right, but I was sure you'd agree. I had this one made especially for Nicholas, in his color."
    He led the other two men to a carton he'd dumped in the studio. He took out a red leather box, opening it reverently.
    Nick peered in to see a supple red leather collar. It didn't look like a dog collar, as most of them did. This one was designed to lie flat at the base of the neck.
    Ashley was speaking to Damian. "I find that a collar is mostly a symbolic accessory; depending on one's tastes, it doesn't need to withstand much force, such as a dog tugging at his leash. I thought for the discriminating master, one who wishes to enhance the beauty of their sub, rather than yank him around, this would be eminently desirable."
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    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford
    Ashley lifted the collar out of the box. "Nicholas, turn around, please."
    He buckled the collar onto the boy, smoothing it into place.
    The front of the collar formed a "V" that nestled in the little hollow at the base of Nick's throat.
    Nick reached up to touch the soft leather with one slender finger, his eyes fixed on Damian's.
    Ashley smiled with delight. "You look lovely in that, Nick.
    Look at yourself." He drew the younger man into the makeup room to look in the mirror. It took Nick's breath away to see how he looked with the deep red of the collar next to his glowing skin.
    "Nicholas, follow me," Damian commanded tersely.
    Apprehensively, Nick followed Damian to his office and stood, shifting from one foot to the other.
    Damian said sternly, "You've not earned that collar, not from me. You may wear it for the shot, but it's not yours, understand?" He unbuckled the collar and took it off, laying it carefully on his desk.
    "Of course," Nick burst out, not taking Damian's meaning at all. "None of this stuff is mine. I wouldn't steal anything!"
    Damian laughed, his nerves a bit unsettled by the sight of his beautiful boy with the collar that he longed to make permanent. "I'm glad you realize that but I didn't really think you would steal it." In order to divert Nick from his own overreaction to the symbolic scrap of leather, he continued. "I like to