Warnings!

This contains explicit BDSM themes, including Master/Pet(Slave/Sub) dynamics, sadism/masochism themes, bondage, impact play, slapping, and collars. This is a PWP without, uh, any actual porn. It's a BDSM fic. I am part of this community in real life, so this is as realistic as I could make it.

Important: all activities are completely consensual, safewords and hard limits are known and respected.

"Well," Shuuhei says, calm grey eyes turning to look at me, "we're here."

I turn my head to look out the window, and have to drop it a few inches to see the top of the building, my eyes widening. I honestly expected something, for lack of a better phrase, kinda sketchy. An old warehouse, or a concrete building in a strange part of town, to hide what goes on within. I couldn't have been more wrong.

This is a mansion, straight out, of at least three stories. If I had an eye for buildings, I might say that it was gorgeous, but as it is, I can just claim that it's a really nice, really expensive looking place. I would expect this to be the home of a billionaire, not a BDSM club. Well, club isn't the right word, exactly. A... gathering place? From what Shuuhei explained it's more of a place to rent rooms and their equipment, for those that don't or can't have it at their own homes, and to socialize with others in the community. It's exclusive to those that have invites, and their guests. Shuuhei has one, and I'd finally convinced him to bring me along.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" he asks me.

Shuuhei is my roommate, a good friend, and an occasional partner of mine. He's heavily into the fetish scene, as a switch among many other things, and after two years of watching him wander around with his tools - or with his bruises - and occasionally hearing the noises from the opposite side of my bedroom wall, I'd expressed my interest in it. He offered a friends with benefits deal, and I agreed. He's a good top, and we figured out pretty quickly that I have no interest in being dominant, so we've been playing on occasion, whenever we get the urge. But he was part of this group, was going to it pretty frequently, and I'd finally decided that I was interested in meeting other members of the community. This was convenient.

He didn't want to, but had finally caved and decided that in the end, it was my decision. Damn right it is. He'd warned me that this isn't a group of casuals, these are people that more or less live their life in the scene, and most of them are both pretty heavily into it and on the more serious side. They have subs, but more often they have pets, or slaves. The thought calls to me, though I haven't shared that with him yet.

"Yeah," I answer, "I'm sure."

He gives a small sigh, shaking his head. "Alright then, come on." He shuts off the car, retrieving the keys and opening the door, climbing out. I get out of my own side, stretching my legs out as the gravel of the parking area crunches beneath my feet. I shut the door, hearing the echo of it as Shuuhei does the same, and I circle around the front of the car to join him on the other side. "Before we go in, there are rules." He leans against the car, waiting for me to answer him.

"Name them."

He gives a tiny smirk, arms crossing over the mesh shirt 'covering' his chest. "As soon as we step in there, I'll ask one of the servants for a working collar. You will not remove it, or touch it at all. Secondly, unless we're alone, you don't speak unless directly asked a question. Thirdly, keep your eyes down. Meeting a master's gaze is a challenge, don't do it. If you must speak, address everyone as 'sir', with the exception of the Master of the house, who you will call 'Master'. Understand?"

"Mostly. What's a working collar?" I ask.

To his credit, Shuuhei only raises his gaze up at the night sky for a moment. "You're not mine, so I can't bring you in there and claim you as my own pet with my collar, but you're not safe in there without one. If any of the masters in there get the hint that you're a natural bottom, and trust me, they will, and you're not wearing a collar, you'll be up for grabs. Anyone who takes a liking to you can, and probably will, drag you off and use you. A working collar is a simple collar - dictated in appearance by the rules of the house - for bottoms that aren't claimed by anyone, but also aren't there to be used, like you."

I take a moment to absorb the information, before nodding. "Who's the master of the house?"

"Master," he corrects, putting emphasis on the word. "Important distinction, capital M. Every top in there considers themselves, and is, a master, but they also have titles, nicknames. I'm a master, when I choose to be, but in there, regardless of which position I choose to be for the night, my name is Wolf. The owner of this place calls himself 'the Master', in addition to being one."

"That seems really arrogant," I comment, and Shuuhei shakes his head.

"Don't mess with him, Ichigo. He's not to be trifled with, and he doesn't tolerate pets that challenge him. He's the only one in there, apart from me, who will have the right to discipline you. The collar will not protect you from him, only a safeword, and if you challenge him and then back out like that, you will never get back in. For the love of god, if you're going to offend anyone, do it to anyone but him." He sighs, and then continues. "Unfortunately, as a guest of mine I'm required to introduce you to him the first time I bring you. When you meet him keep to the rules, and do anything he tells you to. The best way not to get in trouble is not to interest him. He likes a challenge, don't give it to him. You especially, I know you."

"Why me especially?" I ask, mildly confused.

"We've played, remember? You can't keep your mouth shut. This isn't a guy you can fuck around with, Ichigo, he's not like me. He'll take you down a notch or two if he thinks you deserve it, or just because he wants to. If you fight him you will lose, and with how stubborn you are, you'll be black and blue before the end of it. Don't try it."

It should probably worry me how much that makes me want to do it. I mean, it's a scary thought. Playing with Shuuhei is fun, but he's never gone head to head with me. He's too much my friend to do that, and he doesn't want to turn our friendship into anything else. I haven't told him, but that's an idea that thrills me. I don't really consider Shuuhei a top, not to me at least, because I know that if I want to, I can do pretty much anything I want and he won't stop me unless it's a genuinely stupid idea. He can't control me, and I wouldn't want him to. But someone else? Oh, yes.

"Yeah, alright," I agree.

He gives me a mildly worried look, but doesn't expand on it. He pushes off the car, tilting his head for me to follow and heading for the front of the mansion. The main doors, up several steps, are closed, and there's a thick man standing in front of them that could probably crush me with his bare hands. Clearly a guard, or a bouncer. As we approach he straightens up, eyes fixing on Shuuhei.

"Wolf," the guy greets in a low rumbling voice. "Who's your friend?"

"Vetted," Shuuhei answers, stopping before the mountain of a human, "I asked beforehand."

The guard looks over at me, eyes raking over my frame, and I fight the urge to fidget. I have nothing to be ashamed of, I look damn good and I know it. Shuuhei dressed me, but he has experience here and I don't, so I bowed to his choices. I've got on a tight black tank-top and a pair of leather pants that he'd pulled out of his closet for me, with nothing underneath. They're tight on me, though not uncomfortably so, and he's a little bigger than me so I can only imagine what they look like on him. They're paired with black boots with a low and thick heel, more additions from his closet. They elevate me an inch or so, which is almost enough to make us even in height. He'd also put some small silver hoops into my ears, instead of my normal black studs, and - though I complained - added some black eyeliner to my face. I might've hated him putting it on me, but I admit the effect is striking. It's just a tiny amount, edging the outside corners, but it makes my brown eyes look much bigger than they are.

I'd actually been surprised how low-key the outfit was, considering his. He's got on a long-sleeved mesh top with large holes, doing absolutely nothing to cover anything, a pair of black jeans that are so tight I honestly don't know how he fit into them, and heavy black hiking boots. Paired with that is a black choker that hugs his throat, shaped in hollow squares that link together. He's also got heavy-looking earrings hooked in, with loops of silver chain dangling from them. He'd explained the difference was that he was going to show off, and I wasn't. I was there to watch, to learn, not to really be part of it. Also, that he looks better in more extreme things.

The guard gives a grunt of understanding, and steps aside, pulling open the door for us. Soft music and light spills out, and I follow Shuuhei as my friend steps inside without hesitation. It enters into a large hall, with one large staircase spilling down the middle. The floor is white marble, and the walls are a dark red, lit dimly - but not enough to strain eyesight - with intermittent wall sconces. About midway through the hall is a station that looks like nothing more than a reception desk. There's a thin man with long blonde hair sitting behind it, and he looks up as we enter with a friendly smile. I can only see the top half of him, but that top half is a white dress shirt, open at the collar. Shuuhei goes directly to it.

"Welcome, Wolf. This would be your guest?" The man's voice is light, rolling temptingly off his tongue, but still decently professional sounding. Clearly a crafted tone.

"Yes," Shuuhei answers, "I'll need a working collar."

The man nods, reaching below the desk and retrieving a narrow black collar with a silver buckle, and an equally silver D-ring lying horizontally against the front. He smiles, fingers stroking along the leather. "Would you like a gag as well, Wolf? Your pet seems like a handful." The thought sets butterflies going in my stomach, not entirely bad ones, but Shuuhei shakes his head.

He takes the collar and turns to me, and I lower my head to let him fit it around my neck, swallowing down the surge of arousal being collared always gives me. "He's not mine," Shuuhei answers, "but he's just here to watch for now."

The man raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Is that right?" I raise my gaze to the receptionist as Shuuhei pulls the collar closed around my throat, the leather pressing snugly against my skin, and the man smiles directly back at me. "Would you like one anyway, or does your friend know how to mind his manners? The Master doesn't tolerate mouthy pets."

Shuuhei's hands leave my neck, and as I raise my head back up he speaks. "No," he repeats, "it'll be fine."

The man gives a small shrug, smirking at Shuuhei. "Your call, Wolf. He's in his usual room. Up the stairs, to your left, first door on the right."

Shuuhei loops two of his fingers through the D-ring at the front of my throat - I try and ignore the heat that settles low in my stomach at the feeling - and lightly tugs, leading me away from the blonde man and up the stairs behind him. The instructions are easy to follow, and it's not even a minute before we're standing in front of a dark wooden door. My roommate takes a deep breath, pausing a moment, and then pushes the door open.

I follow the light pull on my collar, lowering my gaze to the floor and resisting the urge to look anywhere else. The door closes with a soft click, and we walk maybe twenty feet, around black couches and on blood red carpet, before Shuuhei stops and I get a pull on the D-ring that coaxes me to my knees. His fingers release it once I'm there, clasping loosely around the back of my neck. There are sounds around us, clearly sexual ones, but I fight back - with a whole lot of difficulty - the urge to look up and see what they are.

"Master," Shuuhei says with respect. I can't, and honestly I don't try to, resist flicking my eyes up to see this 'Master'.

He's in a black armchair, one long leg crossed over the other, and head resting on one hand. He's dressed in a well-fitted white, long-sleeved, dress shirt, clinging to a solid build that is completely different from Shuuhei and mine's lean frames, the top two buttons open and revealing the muscles beneath the shirt. His pants, white dress slacks, are equally tailored, from what I can see from this angle, and end at black dress shoes, the shine in counterpoint to the rest of it. He's got a white half-mask over his eyes and nose, with exquisite red details, and his dark brown eyes are framed perfectly inside it. He's got slicked back brown hair, of a lighter shade, the longest threads of it just touching his neck.

"Wolf," the Master answers in a low baritone, the purr in his voice making me force down a shiver, "I hear you've brought a new plaything." The casual disregard is enough to irritate me, but when he looks my way I quickly drop my gaze to the floor. "Introduce it to me."

It?! I am not an - "It's not mine, Master, just a friend. Would you like its name?" Shuuhei didn't warn me about this. I swallow down the slight hurt and the more significant anger, forcing my eyes closed for a moment to collect myself.

"What point would that serve? Pets only have the titles you give them, nothing more." Shuuhei's hand tightens on the back of my neck, probably anticipating the anger that makes me want to get to my feet and punch the arrogant bastard in his face. "Pet," his voice doesn't rise, but it gains an edge of command that makes me push the shiver down again, "you have permission to look at me, no need to try and sneak glances."

I flush, and Shuuhei makes a little choked sound in the back of his throat. My gaze rises, and against my better judgment, but at the urging of a dark part of my mind, I meet the Master's eyes. They're cool, vaguely amused, and after a moment of looking at me his lips twist into a small smirk. Shuuhei's hand momentarily grips tighter.

"Well, this one wears its heart on its sleeve, doesn't it? Have I angered you, pet?"

"I'm not an 'it'," I snap, and the whole room goes eerily silent. In the sudden silence, the second of Shuuhei's small choking noises is clearly audible. The Master gives a soft sound of amusement, raising his gaze to Shuuhei as he lifts his head from his hand.

"No, Wolf, definitely not yours. You may be a switch, but your pets still have a modicum of training. Is it," his eyes flick to me with an amused glint, baiting, "brand new at this?"

"More or less," Shuuhei answers, voice mildly resigned. "I play with him occasionally, Master, but never anything serious. He's never been around other masters before, or in a scene."

The Master stands, I feel Shuuhei's hand clench around my neck again before releasing me completely, and smirks down at me. "I can see that, certainly. Stand, pet." I obey, getting to my feet as much out of my desire to face him down as in obedience, and meet his gaze. He's taller than me, and larger too, but that doesn't bother me so much as it makes the darker side of me rise in anticipation. "Not teaching it basic manners though, that's a shame. At the least, a pet should know how to address someone capable of owning it."

"I'm not fucking property," I snarl, and without any warning the Master hits me. The sharp, stinging slap stuns me for a moment, and I don't fully have time to manifest anger before he kicks my right leg out from under me, driving me to one knee as one hand curls with practiced ease under my collar, keeping my head up with a firm jerk. I'm actually mildly impressed by the maneuver, once I get over my moment of shock.

"This," he gives a sharp tug on the leather that makes my breath catch in my throat, "says otherwise. You're not that new, boy, you know what it means to be collared. Clearly, however, you have not had a dominant drive it home for you." The Master's gaze rises off to the side, looking at the rest of the room, and he softly orders, "Clear the room." There's a shuffle of movement, though Shuuhei stays at my side, but I don't look to see exactly what it is that's leaving. The Master has my attention. His fingers are warm against the front of my throat, his knuckles pressing into my windpipe with soft pressure, and I swallow to press down my urge to lean into the grip. He feels it against his fingers, I know he does, and his knuckles press a little harder into my throat for a moment before easing, without him looking down at me.

"Wolf," he says quietly, "you may go as well."

"Master," Shuuhei protests equally quietly, "we came in the same car."

The Master gives a small smirk, inclining his head for a moment. "No worries, Wolf. He's your roommate, isn't he? I have your address on file, and if I'm not done with him by the time you leave, I'll make sure he's returned there safely. Check with Il Forte when you feel like leaving. You're dismissed." I hear Shuuhei slowly head for the door, and when it closes behind him with a soft click the Master looks down at me. "Now that we're alone, I think it's time you came clean with me, boy. Wolf would have warned you, especially about me, yet you disregarded his warnings the moment you knelt. Meeting my eyes without permission, speaking out of turn and disrespectfully, forgetting my title... That's quite a list. Hard to think that you merely forgot those rules, hm?"

My breath comes a little faster, and he smiles down at me, giving a soft chuckle. "Wolf doesn't have the same experience as I do, boy, so I doubt he's picked up on it yet, but I can see it in your eyes," his gaze pointedly flicks down, lower along my body, "and your pants." I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks, but I can also feel my half formed erection get just a little harder. "You want this, don't you?" When I don't answer he slaps me again, not quite as hard this time, and then jerks my collar to pull my head back. "Answer me, boy."

"Bite me," I snap out, meeting his eyes with defiance. He smirks.

"Gladly," he answers softly, and the rush of heat that pools in my gut surprises me enough for my lips to part in a shaky exhale. "What's your safeword, boy?" he asks. If there's one thing Shuuhei has driven the importance of into me, it's definitely safewords. I answer without hesitation.

"Shakespeare, to stop, and-" He cuts me off.

"This will be discipline," he says sharply, "so there's no need for a 'slow' word. The point isn't for you to enjoy it, it's for you to learn. Though I imagine you may enjoy at least some of it, given your reactions thus far." He releases my collar, fingers brushing over my cheek, and gives me a heated smile. "If you learn, and if you please me, we may move on to more pleasurable activities. If so, then I will ask. For now, use your safeword only if you cannot handle any more, or if something is wrong. Understood?" I nod, and he reprimands me with a sharp tap to my cheek. "Verbal answers."

"Yes," I say, swallowing, "I understand."

"As part of your vetting process, when Wolf brought up the idea of bringing you here, I was informed of your hard limits. Is there anything you'd like to add to those?"

I hesitate for a moment, thinking, before answering. "We play, but he hasn't pushed me. I probably don't know most of my own limits."

The Master studies me for a moment, and then smirks, inclining his head a few inches. "I'll keep that in mind." He takes a step back, his hand leaving my skin. "Strip, pet." Arousal cuts through me, but an equal measure of defiance does as well. If he thinks I'm going to make this that easy for him... His smirk twists upwards a little. "I am going to take you, and string you up on that," he says softly, tilting his head to his right. I follow his indication to a large wooden X that's leaned forward just slightly, cuffs attached to each corner, with a lightly padded area on the intersection of the beams. It's fairly intimidating looking, but also enough to conjure vivid images into my head. "If I must drag you over there by your hair, tie you down, and cut the clothes off you then I will." He leans down, his hand taking a handful of my hair and pulling me half up so I'm awkwardly caught partway in between kneeling and standing, as his voice drops to a low murmur, coaxing a shiver from me. "But it would be a shame to ruin the leather."

He drops me, and I land on both knees with jarring force. It's enough to pull me out of the anticipatory, wanting, haze his words had inspired, and to allow me to get some control of myself. "Strip, pet. I will not say it again."

I obey him this time, mostly because I'm fairly certain Shuuhei would kill me if I only brought him back strips of his pants. The Master watches as I pull my tank-top over my head, discarding it on the ground, and then shift to actually sitting so I can pull the zipper on the sides of my boots down. I pause for a moment, waiting to see if he'll do anything about my change in position, but he doesn't so I continue. I pull the boots, and the black socks beneath them, off, and then raise my hands to the button of the leather pants. I flick it through the hole and pull the zipper down, lifting my ass to pull them all the way off. I don't move back to kneeling, watching him as his eyes slowly rake over my now nude frame.

Despite being comfortable with my body, mostly because I know that I'm in great shape, his gaze on me almost makes me squirm. Maybe it's that I'm half-hard, or that I haven't ever had anyone inspect me, as he's clearly doing, but I'm self conscious on a level I haven't been since high school. Eventually his eyes rise back to meet mine, and he gives a small smile.

"You share your roommate's physique," he comments, "it's quite a pleasing look. Stand up." The compliment eases me, and I get to my feet, straightening up. The difference in height between us is more defined now that my boots are gone, but it's nothing drastic. He smirks, tilting his head slightly. "It's also pleasing to know that your hair is natural." I don't fully have time to process the statement before he reaches forward and hooks his fingers into the D-ring of my collar, pulling me along - far more firmly than Shuuhei had - as he strides towards the cross.

He guides me to stand in front of it, and releases me. I only have a moment to study the cross from a closer perspective before one of his hands presses between my shoulder blades and shoves me down onto the cross. My chest hits the intersection of the beams with enough force to drive the breath from me in a surprised exhale, and his hand presses me hard against it as he steps forward and behind me, his clothes brushing against my skin. His fingers slip down my back, almost to the curve of my ass, before moving to the side as he takes my right wrist in a firm grip. His hand is more than big enough to circle it, and his fingers are long and narrow. I force a breath into my lungs as he pulls my arm up, along the beam, and his free hand pulls the cuff down to meet it. It's black leather, attached to what looks like steel chain, and he hooks it around my wrist, pulling it tight. His fingers trace another path down my arm and across the back of my shoulders, prompting a shudder from me, before repeating the process with my left arm. There's some give in the restraints, they're clearly adjusted to someone else's height, but I can see that all it will take is a pull of the chains to straighten me out.

I can feel the press of him against my back a moment before he speaks into my ear, his voice little more than a murmur. "Spread your legs."

I can't help the hitch of my breath, or the momentary arch of my back as my head tilts back. "Fuck," I manage, hanging my head to try and get some control over the rush of arousal, "I thought I wasn't supposed to enjoy this."

He gives a low chuckle, fingers drifting over my hips, and I remember the actual command. I part my legs, the feeling both vulnerable and exciting, till my toes are against the wood of the lower beams, and realize that with my limbs spread this wide, the higher chains are actually at almost the perfect height. I give a light pull to test them, and my eyes close for a moment. It might just be leather, but there's no way I can get out of these quickly, or easily, not on my own.

"Good, you're learning already." I almost close my legs again, just to spite him, but decide against it. He pulls away, and I feel his hands secure first my right ankle and then my left in quick succession. His fingers drift up my inner thighs, and then he softly speaks. "My title, pet?"

"Master," I answer, a shiver sliding down my spine at the word.

"That's correct. Is there a reason you haven't used it?"

"Absolutely none," I answer, confidence sliding back into me. I knew I was playing with fire when I'd challenged the Master, and nothing's changed. He arouses me, a lot, but that's nothing new either. I haven't folded for Shuuhei, and the 'Master' is just going to have to make me do it for him. Wasn't that what I was really looking for, what I'd hidden from my roommate? Someone to prove that they could make me submit?

His hand cracks across my ass, harder than Shuuhei's ever hit me, and a small gasp escapes me at the sudden impact and the sharp sting. "Is there a word you'd like to add to the end of that?" he asks, amusement and heat in his tone.

"Can't think of one," I answer, this time expecting the hit, and confused when it doesn't come. His fingers drift over my ass instead, and he makes a soft sound of thought.

"Eight times you haven't used my title, three times you've spoken with outright disrespect, and meeting my eyes without mine or Wolf's permission. That's quite a hefty list, pet." His hand leaves me, and a moment later it curls through my hair and pulls my head back, hard. My neck arches as I give a startled sound, and he speaks directly into my ear. "I'm going to strike you fifteen times, and you're going to count them for me, using my title. Each time you miss one, or you answer improperly, I will redo that strike, and add another to your total. Do you understand the rules?"

"Yes," I answer, swallowing convulsively against the angle of my throat, and he releases me.

"Sixteen," he comments, trailing a hand down my back. He steps away, and as I hear him walk away from me I fight the urge to crane my head over my shoulder to see where's he's going. "I don't think Wolf quite knew what he had, pet, or he would never have brought you near me. I've played with him before, but he prefers a more sensual top and that's not my usual method of play. I play hard, and most submissives don't enjoy it." I hear his soft footsteps cross the carpet, approaching me again, and he drags his hand along my side as he circles to stand in front of me. There's a long flogger in his hand, strips of what looks like leather, and he raises it so I can look at it. It's definitely leather, and the strips are thin and narrow. That looks like it will sting like a bitch, and it sends an anticipatory shudder through me.

His free hand comes forward, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes, and he gives me a dark smirk. "But you, I can see it on your face, pet. You like to be ridden hard, and put away wet. You'll count out your punishment, and then I'll beat you until you beg to be fucked." My breathing kicks up a notch at the idea, throat working in another swallow, and his eyes rake over my skin. "If you please me, I might even indulge you. However," his voice sharpens, and his eyes narrow with a dangerous light, "if you come without my permission, pet, I will make you lick it off the ground as I beat you. That, I guarantee you will not enjoy." He flicks my chin up before releasing me, moving to my back, and one hand lightly brushes against my hip.

The whistle of the leather through the air is the only warning I get, and the sharp sting across my back catches me by surprise. It's just startling, not really painful and I smother disappointment. Is that it? Is that all? That barely even stung. It's my mistake. The second strikes raises lines of fire along my skin, and I gasp and jerk against the cuffs, my right shoulder rising off the wood. Oh, yeah, that's more like it.

"Seventeen, let's try that again," he comments, voice mildly amused, and another swing of the flogger cracks down over my back. I grit my teeth, flattening myself back against the wood of the cross. It stings, burns, but I've taken worse before. Not in a situation like this, never from Shuuhei, but pain is something I'm familiar with. "Eighteen." Another crack of the flogger, and I pull against the cuffs on my wrists. Luckily, I hadn't realized that I enjoyed pain until I was with Shuuhei, or my fights with the gangs in my hometown could have been very awkward.

The next one forces a small noise from between my clenched teeth. "Nineteen. I would recommend, pet, that you bend before you break. Keep in mind that you will still have to take all of these once you submit." I give a shudder that's half excitement and half nervousness, and he chuckles. "It is only a suggestion."

Crack. "Twenty." Crack. "Twenty-one." Crack. "Twenty-two."

At his announcement of twenty-seven I'm trembling, panting, and when the flog slices over my skin another time I give. "One," I gasp, "Master." There's a moment for me to take in a breath as he pauses, and then it comes down again. "Two, Master." My eyes are clenched shut, like my hands, and my back is a mess of fire. It's at the point where I'm pretty sure my erection has faded under the sheer volume of pain, and that's saying something. "Three, Master." Oh, damn, what have I done to myself? I have to take another twenty-four of these? Oh, this was a mistake.

At ten my throat seizes on a cry of pain, and panic snaps my eyes open when I can't speak. My chest heaves, and I struggle to say anything past my clenched throat. This wasn't my fault! His hand soothes over my ribs, and he makes a soft hushing noise in my ear.

"Breathe," he orders, and after a moment I obey, managing to drag in air. "Now, pet."

"Ten, Master," I say, and he makes a pleased noise.

His strikes come slower now, and twice more he has to pause to get me breathing again, when the pain clenches up my throat. He stops at twenty-six, fingers once more brushing over my ribs. "Last one, pet," he says softly, and I shudder. My back is agony, and my head hangs low between the beams. The flogger cracks down, and I know immediately that this is harder than the others, that it has to be. Every muscle in my body locks, and I arch against the wood, a high, strangled sound that I didn't even know I could make escaping my throat. I stay there a moment, suspended, as pain overtakes my mind, before everything eases and I go limp against the wood, hanging from my restraints.

"Twenty-seven," I force out, my voice a ragged gasp, "Master."

I feel his hands at my feet, and then my wrists are released, one at a time, and he gently sinks to the ground with me resting between his legs, against his chest. I know I'm shaking, but I don't realize there are tears in my eyes until he wipes one off my cheek. Lips press gently against my forehead, and I give a soft noise of pain as he shifts me, my head coming to rest against his shoulder and one of his hands threading through my hair, against the back of my skull.

"Very good, pet," he says in a low voice, "we're done. Your offenses are forgiven."

All I can do is breathe, so that's all I do. Eventually my tears stop, eventually I stop shaking, the pain of my back lowering to tolerable levels, and eventually the Master gently pulls my head back and looks down at me, and I look up at him. His eyes are calm, gentle, and he gives a small smirk. I don't smile back, but something in me relaxes at the look.

"Are you ready to move on to the more pleasant activities, pet?" he asks softly, and I hesitate.

"Are you going to touch my back, Master?" I ask in return, surprised at how shaky my voice is, and he gives a soft laugh.

"Touch it, yes, but nothing more. You have my word." I hesitate a moment more, and his smirk twists upward a little further. "Did you even once consider using your safeword?"

My eyes widen a little. Actually, no. Not once, even when the pain was beyond what I would ever consider pleasurable, did I ever think about calling a stop to things. Why would I? He'd explained the rules, and I'd disobeyed the orders given to me, so every bit of pain was my own fault. Unless something had gone seriously wrong, why would I back out?

"No, Master," I answer, and that revelation, plus his satisfied little smile, washes away my reservations. "I'm ready, Master."

He helps me to my feet, which is good because I'm pretty sure I couldn't have done it on my own. He's still holding the flogger in his other hand, and I give it a wary look. He chuckles. "Relax, pet, I'll put it away. Can you walk?"

I test my legs, and other than a little shaky I'm alright. "Yes, Master."

He nods, letting me stand on my own. "Get on the bed, on your knees, pet. I'll pick out a few tools that are a little kinder." He smirks, leaning down and kissing me with a gentleness that contradicts the pain of my undoubtedly bruised back. "But not, of course," he says softly, fingers giving the D-ring on the front of my throat a light pull, "too kind." Just the tone of his voice, the low purr, is enough to stir interest in my gut.

I don't even consider disobeying.

When the doorbell rings I'm off my seat on the couch in a moment, rushing for it. I'd bailed out of the mansion at two a.m., unable to find anything more to do to stay there, and it's almost five now. I should never have agreed to bring Ichigo to that place, or put him in front of the Master. I know Ichigo, I knew he couldn't keep his mouth shut, but I did it anyway. The Master is not just a top, he's the top, and Ichigo was far too inexperienced to deal with him.

I jerk the door open, and while Ichigo is a welcome and expected sight, the Master being next to him - mask and clothes still neatly in place - is completely surprising. "Wolf," he greets me softly. Ichigo is leaning against him, supported by one arm around his back, and has a thick black coat draped around his shoulders in addition to being fully redressed. His eyes are a little hazy, drooping, and I know him well enough to see that he's on the verge of exhaustion. "Your friend was having a little trouble standing on his own, so I walked him up."

I don't say anything, biting my tongue not to demand if Ichigo is alright, but the Master must see it in my face.

"He's fine, Wolf, just a little hazy." He gives me a smirk and leans down, tilting Ichigo's head up with his free hand to press a surprisingly gentle kiss against his lips. He breaks the contact and Ichigo gives a soft whine of protest that shocks me even farther into silence. The Master looks up at me, something gentle in his eyes. "You have a treasure on your hands, Wolf, and he is more than welcome the next time you come by. Tomorrow, you should tell him to come up with his own name." His lips twist into an amused smile. "I would also recommend some painkillers, for when he wakes up."

He hands Ichigo off to me, and as my friend leans into me I realize he's pretty much dead weight, all but one step from passing out. "Thanks," I manage, and the Master inclines his head.

"Of course. Have a good night, Wolf, what remains of it anyway." He turns and walks away, completely poised, and I nudge the door shut with one foot before shifting my grip on Ichigo to lock it.

"Are you alright, Ichigo?" I ask, holding back my desperation.

"Alright?" he mumbles into my shoulder, "I'm great." Not that his assurances mean much of anything when he's like this, but at least it's a start.

I manage to get him to his room, all but carrying him there, and set about the task of stripping him. He's totally out of it, pretty much unconscious, and though the mass of reddened skin and broken blood vessels on his back, ass, and upper thighs makes me wince, none of it looks serious. Of course, I won't know until tomorrow, when the bruises actually form. I get him under his covers, stomach down, because just the thought of lying him down on his back makes mine ache in sympathy, and leave him alone.

Sleep is hard, and the sun is coming up before I manage it, but I do eventually sink into it. I'm still tired when I wake, some hours later, but I force myself up, pulling boxers on, and head to Ichigo's room.

He's almost exactly where I'd left him, still totally out, but his right arm has been pulled up under his head. The cover's pulled down somewhat because of that, and I can see the edges of dark bruises on the top of his back. Well, he's slept long enough, and he has some explaining to do about why he worried me last night.

I clap my hands sharply a few feet from his head, he starts and his eyes snap open, before yanking the covers off him. The sight makes me inhale sharply, dark bruises - and a few welts - covering pretty much the entirety of his back half. "What the hell, Shuu?" he asks me grumpily, shifting a little and blinking up at me.

I cross my arms, anger warring with worry. Worry wins out, as usual when it comes to Ichigo. "Are you alright?" I ask sharply.

He stirs, focusing on me, and then carefully shifts, testing. He winces and settles back down, dragging his left arm beneath his head as well. "It's not too bad," he says softly, and my jaw clenches for a brief moment.

"Get up," I demand, stepping back to give him room to do so. He gives me a confused look, but must be too tired to want to fight me, as he normally does. He curls, slipping his legs off the side of the bed, and gets to his feet with all of his usual grace. I blink in surprise.

"What?" he asks. He sounds tired, but there's no hint of the pain he must be in. I knew Ichigo could take pain, knew he liked it sometimes, but...

"What is your pain tolerance?" I ask incredulously, and after a moment of confusion one corner of his lips curls up in a tiny smirk.

"It looks that bad, huh?" I stare at him as he gives a small shrug, one hand raking through his hair. "I could use a shower," he admits, "and whatever painkillers we've got, but I'm alright." He reaches forward, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I promise, Shuu. Pain isn't a big deal for me, and nothing's broken, or sprained, it's just bruises."

I take in a deep breath, forcing down the worry and the anger, and nod. "Alright, if you say so." He releases my hand, stretching one arm over his shoulder, and turns to dig into his dresser for boxers. I watch him, not fully seeing him, before abruptly remembering what the Master had told me to pass on. "So, the Master dropped you off last night." He pauses, looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah," he says, "I vaguely remember."

"He says you're welcome back, and that you should pick out a name." He stares at me in surprise for a moment before grinning, and that eases my concern more than anything else. If the Master had truly hurt him - well, badly - or done anything he didn't want, he wouldn't be so eager to go back. The fact that he is just pushes the truth farther from what I thought I knew of Ichigo's taste in kink. "Not for at least a week and a half," I state, as he retrieves black boxers from the dresser and pulls them on. "I'm not taking you back till you're healed."

"It won't be this bad next time," he says softly, turning back to me. "This," he gestures over his shoulder, "is just because I was challenging him."

"Doesn't change my mind," I answer, "but you should pick out a name." I give him a small smirk. "How about Strawberry?" I tease, and he gives me a brief glare.

"Don't even joke about that."

It's almost two months later, and four more fantastic visits in between my job, before I ever see the Master without his mask. I'm in a cafe, grabbing breakfast, and not a minute after I sit down, in the booth behind me, I hear a very low chuckle that freezes me in place. I know that chuckle, I know that voice. My breath catches on a sharp inhale, and very slowly I turn in my seat to look over the divider. Brown eyes meet mine, and they widen in surprise for a few moments before his lips curl in a small smirk.

"Pet," he says in a very soft voice, "mind if I join you?" All I can do is shake my head.

He turns, collecting a black suit jacket from beside him and his cup of coffee from the table before rising, circling around to slip into the opposite side of my table. He's in a tailored dark red dress shirt and black slacks, a watch around one wrist, and he's got on a pair of square glasses with thin black frames. I study his face. He's handsome, but I knew that much. It's, at the same time, not so different and completely different, seeing him without his mask. It doesn't make him any less commanding, however.

"Relax, pet," he murmurs, smirking at me. "Out here, there's no need to stick to the rules. Wouldn't want to scare the vanillas, after all."

The lack of expectation does relax me, and I lean back in my seat. "What am I supposed to call you then?" I ask, and he gives a soft laugh.

"I have no objection to 'you'," he answers with a soft smile, "but you could also use my name. I'm Aizen Sousuke." He holds out one hand, and I take it on instinct.

"Kurosaki Ichigo." His thumb slides over the back of my hand, forcing me to hold back a shiver, before he releases me.

He gives a slow smirk, eyes heated. "It's nice to meet you, Ichigo." He says my name with a purr, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to control the swell of heat. "Strange seeing me outside of the mansion?" he asks, taking a sip of his coffee, which is black.

"Very," I admit, and he inclines his head.

"It's a common feeling, no worries." He cradles the mug in both his hands for several moments before raising it back to his lips.

"What's with the glasses?" I ask, tilting my head towards them. They look good on him, but I've never seen him with them before, or any hint of contacts. He gives a soft chuckle.

"I'm near-sighted," he says with a smile, and my eyes widen briefly. "Not enough to affect most of my life, thankfully, but enough that things on the opposite side of a room are sometimes fuzzy. I don't bother wearing the glasses at the mansion, there's no need, but legally I require them to drive, and I find it easier to move about in life with them on."

"I had no idea."

"Most don't," he comments. "Not those at the mansion at least." He takes another sip at his coffee, the tilt of it revealing there's only a small bit of it left. "So, do you come here often?" he asks me.

"Not usually. But Shuu- Wolf didn't want to cook, and neither did I, so here I am."

"I know Hisagi's name," he reassures me. "I come here most mornings, before work, which," he glances down at his watch, "I have to get to." He offers me a small smile, downing the last of his coffee and reaching for his suit jacket. "My apologies for cutting this short."

"You work?" I ask, with shock. I'd assumed that, as owner of that huge mansion, he had enough money that he was just one of the rich and idle. He slips into his suit jacket, the fit obviously tailored to his frame and just right.

"I enjoy being busy," he explains, pulling a wallet out and dropping three twenties on the table. "For my coffee, and whatever you choose to order." I try to protest, I don't need anyone paying my way, but he smoothly cuts me off with a smirk. "Repay me by coming by tomorrow, half an hour or so earlier, if you truly feel the need to earn that. It's a trifling amount for me, Ichigo, well worth a conversation." His eyes flick to his watch again, and he stands from the table. "Tomorrow," he repeats softly, before turning and leaving without letting me respond.

I stare after him, before a small grin curls my lips. Yeah, I guess I can do that.

Tomorrow it is.