He was going to be late. Damn.

Tearing his eyes from the clock in the dash, Jay focused on the road. It wasn't his fault that he'd had to stay at the show later than expected for a meeting, or that the traffic around the arena was a snarled messed, but that didn't matter. Those were just excuses, and his master hated excuses.

His master.

Just thinking the words brought a heat to his face and made his cock twitch. There were moments when it seemed absurd to think of another man in those terms, but the words just felt so right, so true. The only thing better was hearing his master call him "my slave".

Without thinking, Jay slid into the left lane and sped up.

He'd met the man he now so easily called master a year before. After a show, he'd come backstage with a couple of friends. When someone had told him who they were, Jay had laughed and made some smart-ass remark about sissies coming to see some real men. Hell, all of the guys had been saying the same thing. What the fuck were a bunch of tennis players, foreign tennis players at that, doing at a wrestling show? He'd only gone to talk to them because he had to, but the moment he'd taken his hand, felt that firm grip, he knew that he'd made a mistake. The anger flashing in those blue eyes told him that he'd been overheard.

He could still remember the hot flush of shame that had crept over him. He wanted to apologize, but that would mean admitting what he'd done. Instead he went out of his way to be nice, even inviting the man he'd later come to know as master and his friends along for drinks. He spent the rest of the night trying to make up for his earlier insult, but the coldness in those blue eyes never faded. That night, the course of their relationship had been set in stone.

If you could call what they had a relationship. Their individual lives kept them traveling constantly and the opportunities to spend time together came few and far between. Mostly it was just nights like tonight, when they found themselves only a couple hours apart and they would share one night before going their separate ways again.

Jay checked the clock.

Five, maybe ten minutes late. What would that cost him?

He'd been surprised when his first casual, hesitant email had been answered. After time, they'd fallen into an uneasy sort of friendship. They continued to exchange emails and phone calls. Finally, he'd found himself with a few days off and an invitation to come for a visit. That first night, after a few drinks, he finally apologized for the things he'd said the night they'd met. When his master had said, quite simply, that there was a way he could make it up to him, he'd agreed without thinking.

He would never have guessed that shortly thereafter he'd find himself in his hotel room, his face pressed into the sheets, screaming in pleasure, being fucked more thoroughly than ever before. He'd been with other men, but never one who was so dominating, so demanding. Everything that happened, from the first moment they stepped into that room, the things his master had demanded, what he'd said, the rough and almost cruel treatment, all of it should have had him running for the hills, or fighting back, at least. It was as if the rational part of his mind had just shut off, and some deeper, more primitive part had taken over.

The memory of that night never failed to make him instantly hard. He hated and loved it, all at the same time. He would beg for his master to stop while praying for more. Every time he told himself it was the last time, but if too long went between their visits, he found himself longing for someone to hurt him, just a little.

He'd never gotten off on pain before. God knew he endured enough of it in his line of work. For him, it was more about the feeling of being totally at his mercy. The pain was good only because he gave it, and he only gave it because he could, because Jay let him. He knew it didn't make sense, not really, and maybe that was why he never told anyone. What could he say?

"Excuse me, Adam, but I just thought you should know that every chance I get, I hook up with this guy who beats the crap out of me and then basically rapes me until I can't stand, but it's cool because I really like it."

Seeing his exit coming up, Jay swung back into the right lane. The hotel was just off the expressway. As he approached, he could see the sign and felt his heart speed up. Another check of the clock told him that, though he'd made up some time, he'd still be a few minutes late. He shivered and resisted the urge to touch his aching cock.

Each time they'd seen each other after that, even if the night started with something as simple as dinner, they ended up in the same place. Jay on his knees, his master pounding into him until he thought he'd die. He'd been sure that it wouldn't compare to that first time, but as they got to know each other and learned their limits, things had only intensified. There were times that he felt so out of control it scared him badly, but he'd never once used the safe words that they had agreed on. Strange as it was, he trusted his master, felt safe with him.

He pulled into the parking lot and found a space near the front door. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his bag from the backseat and went inside. He'd need a change of clothes in the morning, and the bag helped cover his decidedly excited state.

He ignored the front desk and went directly to the elevator. His master had left him a message earlier that included a room number. The elevator ride up seemed both too long and too short. As eager as he was, he felt a familiar sense of hesitation. Knowing what he was walking into, how could he not?

Still, when the elevator doors opened, he was out like a shot, hurrying though the hallways until he found himself standing before the right door. He knocked, twice, softly, and bowed his head.

The door opened. "You're late."

Jay kept his head down and said nothing. Through his lashes, he could see that his master was dressed in a pair of tight black leather pants, and nothing more.

"Get in here."

Stepping into the room, he dropped his bag to one side of the door and then stopped. His heart was pounding so loudly he thought that his master could surely heart it.

There was no warning before his head was jerked back sharply by a handful of hair. He grit his teeth against a cry of pain and looked into his master's eyes.

Jay knew a lot of handsome men, but his master never failed to take his breath away. The thick dark hair, golden skin, generous mouth, cold blue eyes...perhaps it was knowing the kind of danger that lurked beneath that exterior that made him seem so beautiful.

His master shoved a travel clock into his face. "What time is it?" he demanded, his voice thick and guttural.

"Ten o'eight, master."

"You are a full eight minutes late." His master's eyes narrowed and the grip on his hair tightened. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry, master."

"You will be fucking sorry when I'm done with you."

Jay did not resist as he was dragged across the room and flung up against the wall. He remained passive and silent, but his breathing sped up as his arms were pinned over his head. His master skillfully undid his pants and pushed them down with one hand. Then he felt the back of his t-shirt gripped, and the collar pulled tight across his neck for one moment until it tore away completely.

His master did not look like a particularly strong man. He was muscular, sure, but not like most of the men Jay worked with on a daily basis. His real strength only showed itself during their nights together. That was part of thrill for Jay, knowing that his master could really hurt him if he wanted to, if he lost control. But it hadn't happened yet.

The hand around his wrists loosened, but Jay kept his arms where they were. He wouldn't move an inch until he was given permission. He was already due to be punished. There was no reason to make it any worse. His master moved away, leaving him standing there, exposed and vulnerable.

The first strike of the riding crop was always the most painful, the most unexpected. It was a struggle not to flinch away from it. He grit his teeth hard to keep from crying out and pressed his face against the cool surface of the wall. Each blow after the first was like a line of fire, the pain arching from his back and ass and thighs directly to his groin. There were eight total. One for every minute he'd been late.

Several seconds passed after the beating stopped before Jay could breathe again. He felt his master standing close behind him, watching him. He forced himself to relax, to straighten up.

He was so hyper-aware that the touch of his master's hand on his hip made him jump. Caressing him in slow, gentle circles, his master murmured soothing words in German that he did not know the meaning of, yet understood. He'd done well, and his punishment was over, for the moment.

Still, he hissed in pain when his master pressed himself against his back. The roughness of his leather pants and the light sweat on his bare chest stung against his abraded flesh. He forgot the pain a moment later, though, when his master's hand closed around his hard cock, jerking it roughly.

"Looks like someone liked his punishment," his master growled. "Maybe you were late on purpose, ja?"

"No master."

His master's free hand came down hard on his already sore ass. "Did I tell you to speak?"

Jay shook his head quickly.

"You forget yourself. I will have to remind you. You are weak. You have no control."

The hand pumping his cock began to work faster. It wasn't long before Jay was teetering on the brink of orgasm, his knees shaking, his breathing shallow and ragged. If he came without being given permission, he'd be punished for it. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else, but the various ways that his master could punish him were filling his head, and he knew he couldn't endure another moment.

As always, his master seemed to sense exactly when he was about to cum and wrapped his fingers tight around the base of his cock. Jay cried out, wordlessly, getting no relief from the spasm that passed through him.

"You see? No control. I will teach you control."

When he felt the cold metal slipping down over him, Jay let out a shaking breath. The cock ring meant that he wasn't going to be allowed to cum any time soon, but he'd avoid a beating for doing it without permission.

Settling the ring into place, his master moved away enough to finish the task of undressing him. Jay kept his hands on the wall and his head down as his shoes, then his socks, then his pants and underwear were removed. Last, his master took the tie out of his hair and arranged it across his back.

"Lovely, lovely. You are more beautiful every time I see you, mein liebling."

Jay's chest filled with warmth at the simple praise. His master did not use praise often while they were playing, only after. He generally just gave commands, or taunted him. Not that Jay didn't like that just as much.

His master moved away again, and when he came back, Jay heard the familiar clink of metal. He stood patiently while his master sorted through the tangle of leather and chains and began to "dress" him. Thick leather cuffs went around his ankles, connected by a long, thin chain. A matching set went on his wrists, though the chain between them was a bit shorter. The leather collar, with the name "Chrissy" etched into it, went around his neck. Chrissy was the only name his master ever called him when they were alone. He'd asked about it once and his master had smiled and said, "You were born a Christian, my slave. You mother just didn't know it. You'll always be Chrissy to me." Jay didn't mind. He rather liked that his master had a special name for him. Jay almost never used his real name. He was simply "master".

The ankle and wrist cuffs were connected to the collar by more chains. One went down his back, the cool metal slipping between the cheeks of his ass on its way to his ankles, and the other swung back and forth in front of his face, the end connected to his wrists. His master turned him around to attach the last and most dreaded chain. It was shaped like a "Y". The long piece connected to a small loop on the cock ring. The two others ended in tiny silver clips. Jay whimpered as his master put his mouth to each nipple, drawing them to peaks before applying the clamps.

When he was done, his master stepped back to admire his work. He gave a nod and gestured to the floor.

"On your knees, my slave."

Every small movement caused the nipple clamps to tug at both one another and the cock ring. Slowly lowering himself to his knees was an exquisite agony. He rested his bound hands on the top of his head, as he'd been taught. Looking up at his master from this position, completely bound, made him feel small and weak and vulnerable. He liked it.

Seeming satisfied, his master turned and walked away. Jay watched as he turned down the bed, then went around the room twitching off the lights. He left a single lamp on, next to the room's armchair. Sitting down there, he stretched out his long legs and looked at Jay once more.

"Crawl to me."

Lowering his hands, Jay did as he was told. He moved slowly to keep from getting tangled in his restraints. The weight of the chain running from his nipples to his cock couldn't have been more than a few ounces, but it felt like a ton.

By the time he reached the chair, he was panting. His master reached out to stroke his hair as he settled between his long legs. Jay leaned against him and let his cheek rest on his upper thigh.

"Very good, my slave. Very good."

Closing his eyes, Jay sighed in contentment.

Hours later, when Jay opened his eyes once more, he still felt just as contented. He also felt sore. Now it wasn't just the skin on his back. His nipples felt swollen and tender. His wrists and ankles were bruised from the heavier restraints that his master had used when they'd finally moved their playing to the bed. His jaw ached both from giving head and being gagged. His bottom lip was split from the slap he'd earned for screaming after being given orders to be silent. His cock felt tender and abraded. Worst and best, his ass hurt due to the severe and incredible fucking he'd gotten.

Turning his head, Jay looked at the man he called master. After several hours of abuse and torture and then sex that bordered on rape, his master had given him a bubble bath. He'd washed his hair and applied an ointment to the worse of his scrapes. Last he'd given him a couple of painkillers and tucked him into bed. Now he was asleep, his face relaxed and impossibly young, his eyelids fluttering as he dreamed. He had one arm flung over Jay's chest, possessive even in sleep.

Last night, as they lay together drifting into sleep, his master had kissed him for the first time that night. It had been soft and gentle and sweet. There had been love in that kiss. Love wasn't something they talked about.

Their relationship was about sex, wasn't it?

Lying there, Jay was filled with a longing that had nothing to do with sex. These nights were his peek into another world, a world he'd never known before. Now, he was starting to think it was the world he wanted to live in. Not just sometimes. All the time. He wanted to be his master's slave, his Chrissy.

"What are you thinking about?"

Jumping, Jay looked over to find his master awake, studying him intently.

"I..." He closed his mouth quickly, flushing.

"It's okay. You can talk now." Pushing himself up on one elbow, his master lifted a hand to brush the hair away from his face.

"I was just thinking that...that every time we do this, there comes a point when I think you're going to lose control and kill me."

A frown settled on his handsome features. "I would never hurt you."

That seemed like a strange statement, given the fact that he'd spent most of the previous evening hurting him, but Jay understood. "I know."

"Do you want to stop?"

"God no."

His master smiled at the quick reply and said, "So what has you looking so very serious?"

Jay tried to smile and knew it looked shaky and uncertain. "Nothing, master. I'm fine."

Shaking his head, the other man leaned over him and touched his cheek. "You don't have to call me that now, Jay," he said. "You can call me by my name."

"Sorry, mast-, Tommy."

"That's better." He lowered himself to kiss him softly. "Now, tell me what you were thinking when I woke up."

"I was thinking..." Jay took a deep breath and met his eyes. "I was thinking that I don't want this to end. Not ever."

Tommy smiled again, saying, "It doesn't have to. Not ever."

THE END