"You were terrible in the mic tonight," Corporate Kane told Seth. "And, that's something you were supposed to be working on. Hunter and Stephanie aren't going to be happy."

Seth wasn't happy either. It was his owners' faults he'd done so poorly during the opening promo of RAW. The drive from the house took nearly five hours, and while they'd gotten Seth there in time for the show, poor Seth didn't have time to stop by the locker room for a much-needed piss beforehand. He'd told his owners he was desperate to piss at least half a dozen times on the way, but they didn't care. Neither did the production team; he tried telling them, too, but they just hurried him out through the curtains. During the whole promo all he could think about was how badly he had to piss. He felt asinine because he couldn't stand still. He flubbed his lines three times, and totally lost composure the third time. When it was finally over, he nearly lost it trying to get out of the ring quickly, and had to stop, in the middle of the ropes, all efforts focused on not pissing himself. After a few, endless seconds, the cramp eased, and Seth was able to walk off stage. Once he was behind the curtains, he ran, terrified he wouldn't find a men's room in time. But, he did.

"I did the best I could," Seth tried to explain. "I really had to piss; it was so bad I thought I was going to piss myself right there and-"

"Oh really, Tyler? I couldn't tell," Kane said, sarcastically.

Seth blushed hotly. He hated being reminded of those days. "My name isn't Tyler. And, do you think I wanted to make an ass out of myself? I almost pissed myself in front of thousands of fans, and on live TV!"

"You know you're supposed to go before the show."

"I didn't have time."

"You should have been here hours ago! When did you leave the house?"

Seth could only look at his feet. "It was beyond me. I rode with the Authority."

Kane smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile, it was a sly smile. "I thought so...I thought so..." He caught sight of the gold chain around Seth's neck, and reached to pull the dog tags out. He laughed as he read them. "Oh yeah, I knew it."

Seth felt as if his whole world was about to collapse. Kane knew his secret. "Buck up, champ." Kane shook his shoulder roughly. "Secret's safe with me, my friend."

Seth wasn't sure about that. He forced an awkward smile.

"There's that jackassy grin we all love. You'd better not screw up in your match against Dolph tonight. I'm sure the repercussions from your shitty promo will be bad enough." Kane laughed.

His laughter chased Seth from the makeshift office. He didn't fail one bit in his match against Dolph, he hit all his moves and sold all of Dolph's, and got a dirty victory, as scripted. But, as Kane had said, the repercussions from his embarrassing promo would be bad enough. He dreaded the night to come.

It took place in a hotel suite in New York. High in the sky, Seth shakily got undressed. Naked, he knelt before his owners, hoping his meekness would make them go easy on him.

"That was the worst promo ever!" Mistress spat.

Seth bowed his head in shame.

"We expect only the best from our champion, the face of our company. We chose you, we gave you the belt, and you get in the ring and give us the equivalent of a first grader's Christmas concert." Master ranted. "Did you even try to do a decent promo tonight?"

"Yes, Sir, of course-"

"All that trying for a mess of fidgeting and verbal diarrhea," Master shook his head. "At a live show, no less."

"I tried to do my best, Sir, I really did." Pathetically, Seth tried to explain himself. "I just had to piss, and you knew that because I told you."

"No excuses, pet," Mistress told him. "The show must go on. If you needed to go so bad, you should've done so before you got in the ring.

"There was no time, production just pushed me out. I couldn't focus-"

"Mind over bladder," Master reminded him.

You're one to talk, Seth thought, remembering the time Master pissed himself on RAW.

"Are you casting a defiant eye, Seth?" Mistress asked.

Seth shifted his gaze back down. "No, Ma'am. No, Sir."

His owners conferred with one another for a moment, and Mistress left for the master bedroom. Seth almost thought that this scolding would be as far as his punishment went; that they would all go to bed and tomorrow it would be forgotten. But he was wrong.

"There's a bigger issue, Seth," Master began, and instantly, Seth knew it was Kane. He broke out in a cold sweat as his fear rose. "It seems you slipped and told Kane about our...arrangement."

Seth's heart raced. "I didn't meant to, Sir! He was coming down on me so hard for messing up my promo, and I was just trying to explain why I'd arrived too late to prepare; that I'd ridden with you, and he just smiled all creepy and said 'I thought so'."

Master shook his head. "You showed him your dog tags."

"No, he pulled them out of my shirt!" Seth objected.

To his surprise, Master nodded, and patted Seth with casual affection. "Yes, he already knew they were there. This was a test for you, my pretty boy pet. Kane is part of the Authority, too, and he's known all about you from the start. Steph and I wanted to know how discrete you were, so she came up with the idea to have Kane get on you, to see if you'd spill the secret, and you didn't. You passed the test."

Again, Seth allowed himself hope of a reprieve. Master was being gentle, as gentle as he'd ever been to Seth. Seth let himself relax a little. He was tired and sore.

"But," Master continued, "you still really fucked up that promo."

"I'm ready for him, Hunter," Mistress called from the bedroom, and Master led Seth inside. Mistress was kneeling on the bed, naked aside from a strap-on dildo roughly the size of Seth's cock when it was hard.

"Position five," Master ordered.

"I need a piss break," Seth said. He was scared. He'd not been mounted in a long time, and never with something that wasn't the real thing, and not something so big.

Mistress pushed on Seth's lower tummy until he winced. "No you don't. If you could hold it during your crappy performance, you can hold it now. Position five."

Seth got on all fours, height of his ass adjusted for Mistress. Master slipped his shriveled cock and balls out of a sheer, flesh-colored thong, and obedient Seth sucked them as Master prepped his tight ass with lube and probing fingers. As soon as Master declared he was ready, Seth was mounted.

Mistress seized him by the hips, her manicured fingernails clawing into his flesh. The dildo penetrated him rough and deep, and Seth was helpless to cry out when Mistress turned it on and it began to vibrate against his prostate and full bladder. To his surprise, it was more pleasurable than uncomfortable, but each deep thrust made him feel like he was on the verge of either pissing or cumming, and it was so intense he was writing and moaning beneath Mistress, and barely felt her claws or hair pulls. She slammed into him even harder when she came, giving him an extra-deep thrust, and Seth felt himself go, pissing uncontrollably in huge gushes, then an extreme orgasm, so much cum his jewels felt drained of it.

The dildo withdrew, and Seth felt a sharp slap on his ass, well, barely. He was still dazed, not even fully aware he was laying in a pool of his own piss and cum.

"Dirty dog! Look what you've done to your bed!" Mistress scolded, and slapped his ass a few more times. "What ever are we going to do with him, Hunter?"

"His bed, his problem," Master laughed.

"Good thing I told the front desk to put a vinyl sheet on that bed. I told them we were traveling with a bed wetter," Mistress laughed.

"Turned out to be prophetic," Master added.

Seth was blushing. The afterglow had faded away. The small pool was cooling. The piss that escaped had only taken care of the worst of the pressure; his bladder hurt.

"Someone sure likes it when I fuck him in the ass with his new toy," Mistress sang.

Seth didn't reply. He was embarrassed by his body's reaction to what he wanted to think of as rape.

"Come on, Sethie, tell me how much you liked that."

"I need to piss," Seth said, quietly.

"Didn't you already piss your bed enough?" Master asked, and he and Mistress laughed.

"Only a little, I'm still holding the rest and it hurts."

"Then say: 'I love your buttsex, Ma'am', and I'll get you your puppy pads."

What other choice did Seth have? "I love your buttsex, Ma'am."

His owners cracked up, but Mistress did go to the bag of etc. to get the puppy pads. "Oh, no, I forgot the puppy pads... I don't know where you should go potty, Seth."

"I can't take him out here," Master said. "Just finish what you started in your bed," he ordered Seth.

Seth assumed the position he pissed in when Master took him outside, or he had to use a puppy pad (or few).

"Oh no, no, no," Mistress stopped him. "Sit back on your heels and aim your cock up. I want you to pee all over yourself, all the way up to that stupid patch of blonde hair."

Seth was so uncomfortably full of piss that he didn't care where he had to aim it. But, as bad as he needed to, he had trouble pissing. He sometimes did, in awkward situations, and this was definitely in that category. His owners were watching him, expectantly. He closed his eyes, and willed his bladder to work. It wanted to, but Seth was still having problems letting go. He rubbed the head of his cock briskly until the piss came, a short, weak stream that only lasted a few seconds, and only shot up to his belly. He rubbed again, and a steadier, more relieving stream came. He felt a piss shiver, and gave himself to it fully. He leaned forward and pissed in his hair, as ordered, and heady with relief, his mouth. He had drunk almost eight liters of water in preparation for being under the hot lights. He swallowed the piss, and became alarmed when he felt his cock growing fat and hard. Not only was he getting turned on by pissing on himself, in his mouth no less, if he got a full-blown erection, he wouldn't be able to finish. He let go of his cock, and let the rest of his piss tinkle noisily into the puddle he was kneeling in. Another little shiver seized him, and Seth sat back in the puddle. He couldn't believe all that had come from him.

And, of course, he had to clean it up. As he got up to deal with it, Mistress smacked his ass again. "Dirty little fucker," she said, but her tone had just a tang of playfulness, and the fanny-slap wasn't as sharp. "Take a shower and rinse your sheets. See if you can't find a way to hang them on the patio, but make sure they don't fly away."

"Yes, Ma'am."

That night, Seth slept in a real bed and enjoyed unlimited access to his own private bathroom. It gave him hope. Either his passing the Kane test, or surprise pissgasm, seemed to have opened a new door between him and his owners.

He still rose early, did his morning rituals, and once Mistress left the master bedroom of the suite to order room service breakfast for all of them, went to assist Master. He held Master's pathetic, tiny cock while he took forever to do his morning piss, and also dribbled on Seth's hand, but he didn't force Seth to suck him in the shower. Today he just wanted to be washed, then sent Seth to go lay out his clothes.

Since they'd be going to the airport in less than two hours, and flying directly to Atlanta, Seth chose jeans and a casual dress shirt from Master's luggage (which he'd packed a few days ago) along with the pinkest, but also the softest briefs he'd ever seen or felt. Loafers, for an easy security checkpoint screening. Once that was done, Seth turned attention to himself, and got dressed in black jeans that had faded to near-gray, and traded the orange jail shirt for one of his own WWE shirts, the latest one "Never Shuts Up", a parody of Cena's "Never Give Up" shirt. He put on a light, Army-style coat over that, since Mistress disapproved of wearing WWE shirts outside of the ring, or scheduled public appearances. He put on skater shoes for comfort, and made sure his dog tags were under his shirt.

Once Seth and his owners boarded the plane, he was surprised to find himself sitting quite far from them. They were all in first class, of course, but Seth's window seat was in the third row, and his owners were back in the last row before coach. The closer it got to takeoff, the more likely it seemed Seth wouldn't be getting a seatmate. But, he did, and to his utter dismay, it was Kane, the last person on Earth he wanted to spend hours in the sky with. Seth saw Kane grin back at Master and Mistress before he sat down.

"Good morning, Tyler. Surprised to see you able to sit down today," Kane snickered.

"Don't call me that."

"Would you prefer it if I called you Mr. Black?"

"No, neither. Kane, listen, I'm not feeling well, so I'm going to try to sleep, okay?" Seth lied, hoping Kane would leave him alone.

"Hey, can we get a pillow and blanket for sleeping beauty over here?" Kane asked loudly, and pointed down at Seth.

"After takeoff, Sir," a flight attendant replied, as she readied herself for takeoff.

"She'll get you your pillow and blanket as soon as we're done taking off," Kane unnecessarily informed Seth. "I heard you wet the bed last night. Don't worry, I won't let you do it on the plane."

"I'm not going to piss myself!" Seth snapped in a low voice.

"I'm sure that's what you told yourself last night, right before-"

"Shut the fuck up, Kane!" Fucking shit, was there anything his owners didn't share with Kane? "You're not helping me feel any better."

"Maybe you've got a urinary tract infection."

"I don't have a urinary tract infection."

"I said UTI as a euphemism for STD," Kane informed him.

Seth wanted to throttle him. "I don't have one of those, either. Who the hell do you think I am?"

"Do you really want me to answer that, Mr. Black?"

"No, I want you to leave me alone."

The flight attendant brought the pillow and blanket over to Seth. "Want me to tuck you in?" Kane asked.

"I can manage, thanks."

"I'm still going to tell you what I think of you."

Seth blanched, and his palms began to sweat.

"You're one of the best wrestlers on the roster right now. You hardly ever botch, and you put on a show every single time. Watching you in the ring is like watching a dancer."

Seth relaxed. He wiped his clammy hands on the blanket.

"However," Kane continued, "your mic work leaves a lot to improve upon. You need to be professional when you get thrown a curve, whether it's an accidental injury or a word you can't pronounce."

Seth nodded. "You're right."

"Of course I am. Now off to bed, I'll leave you alone."

Seth got as comfortable as he could. Even first-class seats weren't that great. He closed his eyes and mentally rehearsed his promo for Smackdown. He did not have a match, just the promo, so he would do it perfect. Nothing like what happened on RAW would ever happen again. He would never give his owners, or Kane, any reason to doubt choosing him. Then, he began to wonder if Kane, being a part of the Authority, was also part-owner of him. How should he behave towards Kane? Was Kane testing him, again? Seth definitely wouldn't be sleeping on this flight.

He felt Kane get up, and a few minutes later, Seth smelled Mistress's perfume as she sat down beside him. Gently, she patted his arm, and Seth pretended to wake up.

"Kane told us you said you weren't feeling well. What's wrong?"

"Just a little headache," Seth lied.

Mistress put the back of her hand against Seth's forehead, and then her own. "Here, take some ibuprofen." She handed him two, and a bottle of water. "We can't have our champion under the weather."

Seth smiled a little, and obediently, took the pills and drank the water. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"Try to get some sleep, okay?" Mistress tousled his hair, and left.

Seth closed his eyes again and felt Kane settle in beside him. This time, Seth fell asleep for real, and slept through the rest of the flight.

The Smackdown taping went off without a hitch or hiccup from Seth. After his promo was over, Seth could finally relax. In the locker room, Bo Dallas offered him a back rub, which Seth declined. Bo wasn't appealing to him in the least. He looked like a pig, and smelled like one, too. Seth was willing to bet he even squealed like a pig when he was greased and fucked, but he didn't want any part of that. Dean and Roman, his fellow former Shield brothers, were more to Seth's liking. He wondered if they'd be coming to the after party.

Seth, being the champion, felt obligated to attend, and as property of the Authority, didn't have a choice. The after party was in a private room at an upscale Atlanta nightclub. Bo wasn't invited; Dean and Roman were, but of course, Seth was escorted there by his owners and entourage. Even though they'd agreed to suspend overt BDSM in the workplace and at workplace functions, Seth still felt the need to seek their permission, or approval. When Dean handed him a drink, Seth looked around automatically for Sir or Ma'am before remembering that, for now, he was on his own.