A/N: Ok, so it took me a little while to get this formatted and written and stuff, but here it is, the smut that I hinted at in the last chapter. Before anyone starts reading I just want to remind everyone that every Dom/sub couple has their own rules, their own guidelines, and their own expectations. What works for some, does not work for others, and the key to all of that is in the communication between the two of them. This is based off of a real interaction i had with my Master, and believe me, in my experience, this works a HELLUVA lot better as punishment than any spanking, lashing, or whipping i've ever received. Then again, I am not a painslut, I'm a pleasureslut and so, this sort of thing is what works for me. Since this whole story is based around my experiences as a sub in the lifestyle, Ichi will be following what I enjoy and don't enjoy should this go any further than it already has. Whew! Long A/N...so anyway, enjoy, minna! Ja ne!


His body twisted to the beat of the drum. His eyes closed, and on the edge of the dance floor, the others in his group were still flabbergasted by the very fact that he was even on the other side of the railing. Oh yes, hooking him up with Grimmjow six months ago had been excellent for the orange-haired veteran.

He spun, and though the jingle couldn't be heard, the flashing lights glinted off the circle around his neck. A two-inch thick, black leather strip punctuated by six blunt silver studs. The back read, in block lettering, B.I.T.C.H. There was a tag hanging from the off-center D-ring engraved with a gothic number six, and a small padlock held the buckle next to it closed. When he walked, or moved, the tag bounced against the lock, making a pleasant sound, at least when music didn't drown it out, like it was at the moment.

Between his obsidian twins, Renji tensed as a youthful looking male with long black hair danced his way up to Ichigo. The veteran smirked and the two set to enjoying the rhythm of the dance, but as time went on, things got closer and closer, until by the end of the song the two were grinding. The redhead clenched his jaw and sighed. Fuck. He leaned away from Rukia, much to her displeasure, to grab his phone from his pocket and snap a picture. He had a promise to keep, and though he had to bite his tongue to keep the curl of irritation from escaping, he dutifully sent the picture to the one missing member of their group.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, and when the bar was closing the group gathered together again, riding back to their respective apartments for another week of classes, work and mundane nonsense. Ichigo rode with Renji, as usual, in his beat up, hand-me-down, Mustang, but rather than home the redhead took the ginger to a fairly well-to-do condo on the other side of town, before heading off with his twins to do whatever. The veteran actually had a grin on his face and waved happily as they drove off.

The doorman at the desk, a lazy brunette with sleepy grey eyes, only opened one lid for a moment, before relaxing back into his seat. Ichigo was no stranger here, and he knew the man was having troubles with his ex-wife. Their daughter, somewhere around the end of childhood and the beginning of pre-pubescence, was causing issues between them by acting out at school and whatnot. So, the man had good reason to be tired.

With that in mind, the ginger merely trotted to the elevator and let himself up to his Master's apartment. Though he didn't enter, only knocked on the door. When it opened, the blue-haired sex god was framed in soft light and dressed only in pajama bottoms and that feral grin.

"Well, well, well, Red got ya here in record time, Kitten. He musta been expectin' somethin'." He rumbled and moved aside, though Ichigo didn't move until he added, "Come on in, good boy."

Beaming harder, the ginger practically danced into the living room, and promptly began removing his clothing. Good boys only wore clothes Master gave them, and only when Master told them to. So, to be a good boy, Ichigo stripped, carefully folded his jeans, tee-shirt, boxers and socks together, and placed them, with his shoes, in the cubby hole at the bottom of the hall closet where Grimmjow used to keep umbrellas before the two made their contract.

It had taken some getting used to, being completely exposed, sometimes even where people could see in because the curtains were open, and having his scars out where they were on display was something that had made him squirm a lot in the beginning. But his Master had firmly, but carefully, taught him that the marks on his body, especially the ones left by his time in the service, were badges of honor, to be worn more proudly than any other adornment placed on him. So, in time, he had come to cherish his body as it was: skinny, with a few freckles here and there, a certain lack of muscle definition that hid his true strength, and the angle of his left foot, turned just far enough in that he couldn't stand straight and balanced evenly on both feet anymore.

As he proved though, his knees still worked fine, and after putting away the last things that could be interpreted as independent, he knelt next to his Master's chair. In accordance with their routine, the blunette grabbed cup of coffee from the kitchen, took his seat and pulled Ichigo over to kneel between his legs. Here he was to wait until Grimmjow was ready for bed, and if there was anything to be discussed now would be the time.

"So, didja have fun wit' yer friends t'night?" His Master sipped at his coffee.

"Very much so. Jackie actually sat in Chad's lap for the first time. He wasn't expecting it, so he knocked his beer into Ulquiorra's lap. It was hilarious." Ichigo laughed.

Grimmjow smiled a little wistfully. "Good. Anything else fun happen?"

"No. Not really." The ginger shook his head, frowning a little.

All he received from that was a noncommittal noise that indicated the blunette was reading something on his tablet. Silence reigned for a while, Master continuing to work on whatever it was he was doing, and pet waiting patiently at his feet. Just as Ichigo began to doze off a little, a scent struck his nose. Being that close to his Master's crotch meant as soon as the blunette was aroused his pet knew about it. Amber eyes darted up to the mostly impassive face above him. Was this a test? Did he have permission to touch? He wanted to. So, very, very badly. Already the scent and the knowledge that whatever his Master was doing was turning him on were combining to drive the veteran crazy.

Out of nowhere, Grimmjow spoke, "You lied, Kitten."

"Huh?" Ichigo blinked, and immediately paled…the dancer! "I'm sorry, Master, I forgot to mention there was a guy. He was hitting on me while we danced. He asked me what my collar meant, and I told him it was because I'm feisty. I should have told him that it spells Boy In Training Careful Handling."

"And?" His Master wasn't looking at him.

"And I should have told you when I was telling you about my evening. I'm sorry, Master." He re-focused his gaze on the fabric of the chair in front of him, and heard the slide of a drawer.

Then Grimmjow was buckling his restraint cuffs around his wrists, and locking them together such that all he could really do with them was fold his fingers against one another. "I don' really care that he was flirtin' wit' ya, or that ya didn't tell me right away, but ya didn't tell him what yer collar says, and the pic I got from Red tells me that ya didn't 'xactly make him back off neither."

He dared a glance up, and the look on his Master's face had him biting his lip, his length twitching in anticipation. "I was a very bad boy, Master…will you punish me?"

"Mmm…" Grimmjow's eyes darkened, and he ran a hand through the orange spikes between his legs. "Ya do know how I like it when ya ask, Kitten."

Ichigo swallowed, his mouth going dry at the implications in his Master's voice. Then a strong hand was reaching down and locking his cuffs to his collar, leaving him to hang his hands on either side of his neck.

"No touching, Kitten. You just sit there an' be a good boy fer a while an' we'll see 'bout what ya need ta do ta make it up ta me." The blunette tucked his fingers through his pet's hair again, drawing the nails across his scalp.

Shivers ran down the veteran's spine and he licked his lips, biting the bottom one. He squirmed a little, trying desperately not to move. It was hard because Grimmjow told him not to and he wanted to be good. He really, really did, but his Master was always so tasty and he was right there, in front of his nose, the scent of the blunette's arousal overwhelming him.

"Ya should see these pictures, Kitten." Nails pulled through his hair again accompanying a husky voice, that spoke volumes to the lust Grimmjow felt.

His attention drifted up to watch his Master's reactions, as he continued to chew on his lip. His breathing was starting to get heavier, but not quite panting, and a small whine escaped his throat. It cut off when the fingers in his hair gave a tug, hard enough to be felt as a spark of pain from his crown to his toes and back up to glisten on the tip of his cock.

"A little longer, Kitten. Yer still in time out fer lyin' ta that Nilla." The azure eyes above him were slightly dilated in pleasure, as he browsed what was obviously a collection of his favorite pornographic images.

Ichigo swallowed again, and licked his lips. The bottom one was bright pink from having been bitten and sucked on, and unconsciously he leaned into the blunette's touch, before falling back on his heels again. "Yes, Master."

A few more flicks of his thumb across the touchscreen and Grimmjow gave a pleased sigh. Turning to his tortured pet, he smirked, "Now, Kitten, are ya sorry fer lyin'?"

"Yes, Master! This boy is very sorry for lying." The ginger leaned forward a bit, a whimper on his lips.

"Good boy." Grimmjow purred, reaching down to unhook his cuffs from his collar, but he didn't remove them. Then he sat back and pulled his tented PJ pants down to expose himself, hard and wanting above a nest of sky blue curls. "Now, that was a pretty good set o' shots I was lookin' at, how d'ya plan on fixin' that, pet?"

"May I suck your cock, Master?" Ichigo practically panted, licking his lips again in anticipation.

The shiver that went down the blunette's spine was obvious as it brought a droplet of precome to the tip of his length like a bead of honey just waiting to be licked off. It took all of his willpower to keep his voice steady and authoritative, "Yes, you may."

Placing his hands on the edge of the chair, the ginger leaned forward to nuzzle his nose against the fabric of his Master's pajamas, breathing in the scent with a noise of appreciation on his exhale. His tongue pressed against the cotton where it rested at the base of Grimmjow's manhood. "Thank you, Master."

As his lips nipped up the side of the hardened flesh, the blunette set his tablet down to grip the arms of the chair, and purred, "You're welcome, Kitten."

Because he hands were bound, he had to use his nose to guide himself to the tip and that fat bubble of nectar waiting for him. Gripping the loose fabric in front of him for balance, he drew his tongue around the head, moaning before taking the whole glans in his mouth with a suck. He hummed in pleasure, drawing out more of the sweet preamble. His eyes fell closed as he began to take the shaft deeper into his mouth.

Above him, Grimmjow's breathing deepened, his own eyes closing to concentrate on the sensations. His pleasure was obvious, not only by the stillness of his body, but the lack of sound he made, not even a purr or a moan, just long, deep breaths in the silence of the apartment.

Ichigo mapped the entire length of his Master's cock, running his tongue along every bump and vein, and sliding his bound hands into the waistband of the pajamas to fondle the blunette's scrotum. To either side of his arms, he felt the twitching of his Master's thigh muscles as a barely audible purr accompanied the next exhale over his head. He sucked deeply in response, taking the glans into the back of his throat, and swallowing around it.

Grimmjow moaned at an almost sub-sonic level, his thighs twitching again, and his hands curling into the cushions of the armrests. Another swallow around his cock and his abs joined in the sporadic twitching as he fought not to buck into the tight, hot, tunnel of his pet's throat. His breathing sped up, and he felt the rush of climax beginning to pull at his senses.

Then Ichigo hummed. It seemed the higher he could make his Master go, the more he wanted it, as his drive to devour the meat in his mouth pushed him further and further towards his goal. One more swallow and the blunette went completely still and silent. There was a beat, a pause of only a moment, where everything seemed to hold its breath. Then all at once, like a dam breaking, he came, pouring semen down his pet's throat, and shuddering in pleasure.

The ginger drank him down, sucking and swallowing as best he could, though a dribble or two escaped down his chin. He moaned around the rapidly softening member in his mouth. All he could taste was Grimmjow. All he could smell was Grimmjow. All he could feel was Grimmjow, and opening his eyes, the only thing that could make the sight of his Master in full climax better were the unconscious noises of his breathing and the pounding of his heart as Ichigo milked the waves of pleasure coursing through the blunette's body.

Finally, the larger man collapsed against the chair, every muscle limp, and he let out a deep, pleasured sigh. "Mmm." He unclenched a stiff hand and flexed it a few times before drawing it through his pet's hair. He smirked, because he already knew the answer, but part of the lesson was in the question, "Did ya come too, Kitten?"

The submissive pulled back, licking his lips very much like a cat after a bowl of cream, and his eyes burned darkly. Again, the answer was obvious, but because his Master asked, he answered anyway, "A good boy doesn't come until he's told to."

"Indeed, he don't. But since ya only lied ta a Nilla, an' ya took yer punishment so well. I think I want m' good boy ta come fer me. Git up here where I c'n reach ya." Grimmjow rumbled, tugging on Ichigo's hair.

Unsteadily, the ginger climbed to his feet, leaning on his hands because of how long he'd been on his knees, and with a deep blush at the way his manhood bobbed proudly in front of him, he climbed into his Master's lap. Every brush or touch or sensation across his skin elicited new shivers from him because of how worked up he was after having been praised so highly on top of everything else.

The blunette waited patiently until his pet was stable and settled before sliding his hands up the creamy thighs draped over his own. With one hand, he drew his thick, work-roughened fingers along the turgid length between Ichigo's legs, and with the other, he reached around to pry the globes of rounded flesh that were the veteran's ass apart to reach his puckered opening.

The submissive gasped, not at all quiet, and his hips bucked, craving more of his Master's touch in both places. Trapped between the well-muscled arm holding one thigh down as that hand stroked him, and the equally well-muscled arm running parallel over his other thigh while he was fingered, all Ichigo could do was squirm a bit as both hands began to move in sync.

"Nyah!" He panted and folded his fingers into the muscles of the blunette's chest, unabashedly grinding against both hands, pleasured whimpers and moans dripping from his lips like rain.

Grimmjow brought the hand he was using to play with his pet's backdoor around to grab a jar of lubricant from the same drawer next to his chair where he'd retrieved the cuffs that matched the collar around Ichigo's neck. Using ample slick on his fingers, he gave no warning as he plunged two of them deep into his pet, stroking heavily with the other hand.

A smirk curled the Master's lips as another wanton moan broke from the ginger's throat. His pet fell forward, pressing his head against the back of the chair, grinding his hips between the two places of stimulation. His toes curled in mimic of what the fingers inside of him did against his prostate. He felt kisses flutter along his neck and he whined, his scrotum drawing up.

Turning his head to mouth the blunette's shoulder, throaty whining noises escaped, quickly turning into breathy squeaks, that had he not had something in his mouth, were the warning sign of a scream upon his climax as he was driven unrelentingly towards the edge of oblivion.

Grimmjow thrust faster and gripped harder, purring in his pet's ear, and nipping at the exposed neck and shoulder. He ordered, deep and more vibration than words, "Come for me, my sweet, good boy."

"Nya~ah~AH!"

Ichigo's attempt at being quiet failed horribly as his body spasmed, orgasm racking his frame, making him grind against his Master harshly. Everything was tense and tight with each pulse, each beat of his heart, as spurts of creamy spunk erupted over the blunette's hand. Just to make the climax more intense, the dominant pressed rhythmically against his pet's prostate, purring darkly in his ear and holding him close.

Coming back down was easy to see because the press of Grimmjow's hand made the ginger jump with each touch to either over-sensitized place as he whimpered and giggled a little, turning to nuzzle into his Master's neck with lips and tongue, nibbling and licking to satisfy his oral fixation.

Gently, the blunette pulled his hands out and away to wipe off with a towel tucked into the side of the chair specifically for situations like this. Vaguely the sounds of a bottle of sanitizing gel reached the submissive's ears, but he wasn't really aware of it until his Master's hand rand through his hair again.

"That's my good boy." Grimmjow purred, cuddling him close.

A post-orgasmic shiver made the tag on his collar jingle, "Thank you, Master, you make me feel all warm and fuzzy and wanted."

The dominant chuckled darkly, gathering his submissive into his arms, before standing and making their way into the bedroom. "Good, because you are wanted, and you make me feel warm and fuzzy and needed."