Disclaimer: Seeing that this is the first post of this story, I am going to be straight and to the point. I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make any money from this little venture...Zip, Zero, Zilch :) If only making money was that easy.

Warning: Hmm...where do I start? This story is going to have a lot of foul language, a lot of gay-boy action, as well as a lot of S&M vibes kicking. If any of those things aren't your bag, I suggest you go read some nice K+ fan fic and call it a day :)

A/N: Yay, new fic :) This will be a short one though--only about three chapters.

Harry glanced around the waiting room nervously, though he knew no one else was there. It was only him in the room, him and the obnoxious secretary that was tucked away out of earshot, in the reception area behind panes of sliding glass. He reached into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around the wand inside. Keeping it fully sheathed, he pointed it at the piece of white parchment he held in his other hand and whispered, "Reveal your secrets."

Nothing happened.

Of course, had he really expected anything to? It was only a simple muggle contract after all--a muggle contract he had requested. No one forced it in front of him; no one was trying to trick him into signing it. He had obtained it on his own free will, and the receptionist that had handed it to him obviously could care less about whether he signed it or not. He was in the muggle world after all, and there nobody cared what Harry Potter did.

Deciding he was being foolish, Harry read through the contract one last time and then signed it:

James Black

He blew on the wet ink for a moment and then quickly walked up to the front desk before he had time to regret his decision. The receptionist, a harsh woman with flaming red hair, slid the window open and snatched the parchment from his hands.

She looked it over a moment. "Have seat Mr. Black. Mariella will be with you shortly."

Harry sat back down, his knee bouncing nervously as he waited. The seconds ticked by slowly and Harry found himself ready to bolt out the door after only a couple of minutes. Maybe it's not meant to be, he thought. But just as he stood up leave, a door opened and a pleasant looking woman with a head full of blonde curls walked out.

"James, I presume," she smiled as she extended her hand to Harry. He took it graciously, pleased to see a friendly face. "Come with me." She brought Harry into a small room, presumably her office, and gestured for him to have a seat. "Now I see you have signed our contract," she said warmly. "But I like to do a short interview with our clients before we work with them. You know, just to make sure they understand the terms."

"Absolutely," Harry replied as calmly as possible. He non-chalantly wiped his sweat covered palms on his jeans. "That's understandable."

"Great. Now first off, you understand you are now bound to not, under any circumstances, speak of your experiences here, right?"

Harry swallowed thickly, trying to push down the lump that was forming in his throat, and nodded.

"And you understand that once you have chosen a master, and they you, that they will remain your master for as long as you use our services."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but his tongue failed him, so again, he nodded.

"Good." Mariella scooted behind her desk and took a seat. Harry looked up at her, worry etched clearly across his face. "Almost done Mr.
Black," Mariella soothed. "Now you also understand we operate under a safe-word policy, correct?"

"Yes," Harry breathed.

"You and your master will come up with an agreed safe-word that will in turn, be given to our guards. Our rooms are equipped with microphones and if at anytime you use the safe-word, a guard will immediately retrieve you. However, you must understand that if you choose to use the safe-word, your contract with us ends. You will no longer be able to use our services, so make sure if you use the safe-word, you don't plan on coming back here. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Perfect. It's unfortunate, but we have had some past experiences," Mariella said leaning across her desk. "Liability issues and all that....big mess...But anyway, I have one more question, Mr. Black. I'll be honest, it's and sort personal question, but we like to know the mindset of our clients before we officially take them on. Do you mind?"

"No," Harry replied hoarsely.

"Why have you chosen to seek out our services, Mr. Black? I mean, you're obviously very handsome. You do not strike me as a sexual deviant or a bored husband, like our usual clientele--so why?"

Harry chewed on his bottom lip a moment and thought. Why was he there? He didn't really know. He certainly never considered himself a sexual deviant and he wasn't a bored husband. He wasn't a husband, period. Hell, he wasn't even anyone's boyfriend. So why was he there? He thought about it another moment before giving the most honest answer he could come up with.

"To feel."

"I see," Mariella said, clicking her tongue. "Well, shall we begin?"

She reached into a desk drawer and rummaged around a moment before pulling out a strange, white mask and handing it to Harry. He turned it over in his hands, his fingers tracing the wide cut-out over the mouth area and the tiny cut-outs where a nose would be. A shiver snaked up his spine, making him shudder. The mask had no eyes.

"Um, uh," Harry stammered. "Can I ask why the mask doesn't have eye cut-outs?"

"Oh of course. You see, you are not allowed to see your master unless they decide they want to be seen."

"Oh," Harry replied. He could feel the bile starting to churn in his stomach. Why was he here again?

"Alright James--If you could just stand up, I'll get this on you and we can get started."

Harry stood up, locking his knees so they didn't give out on him. Mariella grabbed the mask from him and placed it over his face, quickly fastening it in place with the leather straps and buckles that were attached to it. Then she grabbed his hand, locking her fingers with his, and pulled him out of the room.

They walked for several minutes. Harry could feel the air around him change. Mariella's office had been warm and comfortable, but wherever she was taking him was colder, damp. He swallowed hard, still trying to rid himself of the horrible lump that threatened to choke him.

"We're here." Harry heard a door open and Mariella led him inside a room. And although he couldn't see anything, he could sense that other people were there. "Okay, back up just a little," Mariella said.

Harry obeyed, backing up until his back connected with a vertical pole. Mariella let go of him and began fumbling with what sounded like heavy, metal chains. And just a moment later, Harry felt the chain wrapping around his waist and the pole behind him. "All set, Mr Black." Mariella said cheerily. "Have fun."

Harry heard the door shut and lock behind her. His heart began to beat erratically. Beads of sweat started to drip down his face, slickening the inside of his mask. Never in his nineteen years of life had he felt so helpless, so defenseless. Yet there he stood, open and vulnerable, and there on his own free will.

"Hello Mr. Black," a soft voice cooed. Shoes clacked loudly on the floor as the voice got closer to him. "I'm Mistress Alexia." The woman reached out and grabbed Harry's hand. She began kissing his palm lightly, her breath tickling him and making the hair on his arm stand on end.

"I think we could have a good time," she whispered seductively before taking Harry's index finger in her mouth. She slowly swirled her tongue around it and sucked on the warm digit, her lips gliding up and down it's entire length. And with one last, hard suck, she let go of his hand and walked away.

Harry heard someone else approach.

"I'm Master Anton," said a man with a deep, husky voice. And instead of saying anything else, the man reached back and slapped Harry's ass, his hand connecting with such force that Harry buckled from the pain.

"I'm Mistress Veronica," another woman started as she, too, made her way over to Harry. "Do you want to be my little bitch, James?" she whispered in his ear. "Do you?" She reached down and grabbed his hand, placing it on her naked breast. Harry could feel her nipple harden beneath his fingers.

"Mmm," she moaned softly as Harry began tracing circles over her taut peak with his thumb. "Tsk, tsk. We mustn't get greedy." She said after a moment; then she pulled his hand off and walked away.

"And I," another man said as he approached Harry. "I am Master Riddle."

Harry cringed. Riddle? Out of all the names in the world, his potential master's name was Riddle? Common sense told him that although it was a remarkable coincidence, that's all it was--a strange, stomach-twisting coincidence. But a small part of him began panicking anyway.

"Pleased to meet you James," the man whispered smoothly in Harry's ear. His voice was alluring and calming at the same, and Harry could feel his apprehension melt away as the man swathed him in silken words and warm breaths. The man leaned in closer, his lips flush with Harry's throat. "You need a little discipline, Mr. Black?" he murmured. "Because I can give it to you."

Harry shivered as the man's hand snaked slowly up the back of his neck, up to his messy locks. Then suddenly with no warning, the man grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair and yanked his head back, full exposing his throat. He gasped loudly with a mix of pain and pleasure as the man bit down on his neck, pulling flesh between his sharp teeth.

Harry's cock instantly became rock hard.

"I knew you would like that," Riddle whispered as his hand cupped the bulge in Harry's jeans. And with one last lick, the man let go and walked away.

"So who will it be James," Mistress Alexia asked.

Without hesitation Harry answered, "Master Riddle."

"Very well," she replied.

Harry's head buzzed with the sudden sounds of shuffling feet and clicking heels echoing throughout the cavernous room. But before he knew it, everything went silent, his ragged breathing the only audible sound. Harry stood there as still as possible, straining his ears to try to hear something--voices, someone else breathing--anything, but he couldn't make out a sound. And the more he stood there, the more deafening the silence became, and the more uneasy he felt as an eerie awareness that he was being watched crept over his body.

Harry began inwardly chastising himself for being so stupid. Of course he should be feeling skeeved out, he was in a skeevy place! What the hell was he thinking coming to somewhere so shady? He needed to get out of there...and fast.

"Hello?" he said timidly. "Is anyone there?" Harry listened carefully for some indication that someone else was present, but he heard nothing. "H-hello?"

"Did I say you could talk?" Riddle's voice growled. "You will only speak when spoken to, understand?"

Harry nodded dumbly. A mixture of fear and excitement coursed through his body, making him shiver. The tone in Riddle's voice was so dangerous, so authoritative, so...erotic. Perhaps he wouldn't leave quite yet.

"We have to agree upon a safe word," Riddle said. "I typically like to use the word 'magic'. Do you object to that?"

Harry swallowed. His stomach was lurching again at yet another strange coincidence, but he shook his head anyway.

"Good."

Harry heard Riddle approach and felt him as he unfastened the chain around Harry's waist. Once the chain was gone, the man fastened something around Harry's neck--some sort of leather choker.

"On your hands and knees," Riddle commanded. Harry obeyed, his hands connecting with the dirty, stone floor below him. "Now follow me," Riddle said as he yanked on a leash that was connected to Harry's new collar. Again, Harry did as he was told, crawling across the cold floor, tiny pebbles sticking in his palms as he put pressure on them. But he continued on and fought through the annoying pain, trying his best to keep up with Riddle's quick pace.

After a few moments, the floor beneath Harry suddenly changed, the hard, rough stones replaced by smooth, plush carpet.

"Stay," Riddle barked. The tension in the leash disappeared and Harry could hear the man rustling through heavy drawers. The unmistakable tinkling of metal filled his ears and Harry visualized the bizarre instruments Riddle could be lining up to use on him. Harry's mind thought back to some of the more gruesome muggle, horror movies he had seen, and realized he had walked directly into one. He pictured Riddle lining up scalpels and speculums and countless other torturous devices whose names he didn't know. Things that could hurt him or undoubtedly, kill him if used correctly.

But Harry tried to push that thought out of his head. It was ridiculous. He didn't get snatched out of some seedy, foreign hostel and taken to a run-down warehouse; he was in a building on a busy London street and he was there on his own free will. He wanted to go there, so he should at least try to enjoy himself.

"Stand and disrobe," Riddle said calmly. Harry hesitated a moment too long, and just as he planted his foot on the ground to stand, there was a loud crack and a sharp pain shot through his lower back. It seared and stung and Harry could feel a burning sensation spreading it's fingers from his tail bone to his shoulders. "Let's try this again," Riddle purred. "Stand and disrobe."

"Yes sir," Harry replied. He stood and did as he was told, casting his clothes to floor.

"Very good James." Riddle walked slow circles around the room and Harry could feel his master's eyes examining every inch of his body. His skin flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement, and his previously flaccid cock began to stiffen in response to the new and unusual stimuli.

He had never before been hit in an arousing manner; he had never been ordered around like a useless slave; and he had never been scrutinized like a piece of meat at the grocery store. And truth be told, he was enjoying every second of it. He liked surrendering control for once, mindlessly following orders that someone else gave. Not once in his life had Harry had the luxury of being the follower; he was always expected to lead, lead, lead, and the reprieve felt amazing, no matter how short-lived it was.

"Now," Riddle said, tickling Harry's skin with what felt like a cat of nine tails. "Let's see how well you follow orders. Get down on your knees and then sit back on your feet. Good," he said as Harry followed his directions. "Now make fists with both of your hands and cross your wrists behind your back...Perfect James, this is what will be referred to as position one. Understand?" Harry nodded. "Good. Now stay on your knees and keep your hands behind your back, but crouch down so your face is just a few inches above the floor. This is position two."

This continued for over a half an hour, Riddle showing Harry a total of ten positions in all, everything from kneeling to standing to sitting to laying down. Then they proceeded to practice them, Riddle shouting out a position number and Harry quickly dropping to his knees or laying flat on his back.

"You're doing well James. If you'll get on your knees, I'll give you your reward for the day."

Harry readily obliged, eager to accept anything his master wanted to give him. His skin tingled and his groin tightened as he thought of the possiblities, but before his brain could settle on a potential gift, he had his answer.

Riddle laced his fingers through Harry's ebony locks and leaned into him, pressing his cock through the mouth opening in the mask and against Harry's lips. "Open up James," Riddle ordered. And the moment Harry's lips parted, Riddle shoved his cock inside, so hard and so deep that he bottomed out. But he didn't allow that to trip him up, and instead, immediately began thrusting with as much force as his first instrusion, abusing Harry's throat with his rock-hard dick.

Harry choked and gagged and his eyes began to water from not being able to breath. Saliva dribbled down his chin and the lack of oxygen made his head start to spin. He thought for sure he was about to pass out, so he tapped his master's leg and mumbled, "Dob."

Riddle stopped and pulled away, an incredulous look on his face. "What was that James?"

"I asked you stop," Harry replied, gasping for air. "I couldn't breathe."

"Oh is that so? Little James would like me to stop? Your master is offering you a wonderful gift, James, and you're turning your nose up at it?"

"But I..."

"How dare you? Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position? How many people would beg for my cock? Position two, James. Now."

Harry quickly leaned forward and clasped his wrists behind his back.

"Now you are going to learn what happens to ungrateful little sluts."

Harry closed his eyes, his body shaking as he braced himself for what was about to happen. There was a loud crack like the one he had heard earlier, and then the cat of nine tails connected with his ass, making him fall to his stomach in pain.

"Get back up," Riddle growled. Harry did as he was told and endured the two more whippings. With no clothes on, the pain was twenty times worse and he could feel welts starting to form on his red-hot flesh. "Now, have you learned your lesson?" Riddle asked.

Harry nodded. "Yes, master. Please let me continue. It is such an honor to pleasure you. I was stupid for letting a silly thing like breathing get in the way. Please, I beg you, allow me to continue." Harry was shocked by his own words, but he didn't want to be whipped anymore, and oddly enough, he didn't want to let his master down. He wanted to please his master and show him how grateful he was for the magnificent gift, and the only way to do that was to endure the abuse.

"Are you sure about that, slut?" Riddle asked.

Harry nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Yes master, I am sure."

P.S.--Please review :)