Master immediately seized him by his coat. "When I order you to do something, you fuckin' do it!" He threw Seth down the hall towards the garage like a bouncer throwing some asshole out of a bar.
Seth knew how to fall, so he was more shocked than hurt. Master had not laid hands on him in such a way in a long time.
"What the fuck are you staring at, stupid Seth?" Master mimicked his pet's surprised face. "Go and get those bags now. This is the third fuckin' time I've had to tell you!"
Seth picked himself up and went to the garage to get all the bags. Master watched him the entire time, and barked threats at him like a drill sergeant to make him move faster. Master ordered him to start the wash, keeping his "soiled" clothing away from the rest, then take a "much-needed" shower and come immediately to the master bedroom, "don't even bother getting dressed".
Seth did as he was told, and reported naked to the master bedroom suite, his hair still dripping down his shoulders and back. He was cold, but not cold enough for his cock to shrink. He knelt before his owners, who were relaxing in the sitting room.
"Sethie," Mistress began. "From now on, you will have new rules to follow. You'll receive them in writing after your punishment is through. Your punishment is entirely in the hands of my husband, but only because I have to go to the office. If you haven't learned your lesson by the time I get back, I'm going to punish you again. Understood?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Good." Mistress left.
"Come, Seth," Master said, and Seth followed him.
He led him to the Tool Shed and over to the ring. "Undress me."
Seth did as he was told, and began undoing the buttons on Master's shirt. He peeled it away, and began working on his belt. Once the pants were dropped, Master stepped out of them, but balanced on one foot, and then the other, so Seth could remove his socks. "Underwear, too, Sir?" He looked down at Master's red satin thong. To his amazement, for the first time in years, Master was fully hard for him, and fully hard, Master was a sight to behold. Not as long as Dean, but thicker, and it was pretty, like his own.
"Not just yet. Get in the ring."
Seth couldn't help showing off, and jumped up on to the apron. Before he could step through the ropes, Hunter swept his legs out from under him, and he landed on his ass on the mat outside.
"Save that shit for your fans." Hunter snapped.
Seth didn't reply, but slid under the bottom rope, the lowliest entrance.
"This should feel nostalgic for you," Master began. "You and me in a submission match. Tap or say 'I quit', ropes break the hold, winner takes ass." He began warming up, and so did Seth.
It was nostalgic, it was Cyberfights all over again, and he was Tyler Black. Being in the ring, in any ring, always brought him into character, and gave him an feeling of inner peace. And, it was nostalgic in another way, too. Five years ago, he used to beat his cock raw fantasizing about the very match he was about to undertake.
"Ding ding, Seth," Master said, in a cold voice, pulling Seth from his reverie. He turned around, just in time to catch a boot to his stomach. He knew Master had not kicked him as hard as he could of, but it was just enough to knock the wind out of him. He fell backwards, into the ropes rather than into what was sure to be a pedigree. He didn't fall all the way down though, he clung to the ropes, struggling to breathe before he passed out. Finally, he could.
"I...thought...this was...a...submission match," Seth panted, as he tried to regather his wits about him.
"Oh, but it is." Master grabbed him, forced him down to the mat, and put him in a crossface. Seth cried out, and grabbed for the very near ropes. Master laughed, and let him go, but not before delivering a smart elbow shot to his pet's head.
That hurt, and Seth was suddenly furious. He quickly got on his feet, and threw himself into the ropes before Master could even rise to his feet. He used the added velocity to propel him directly into Master's face, the same knee that had broken Cena's pretty nose raised and ready to reset Master's ugly one, as well.
But Master knew the one he'd created too well. He knew Seth was going to use that flying knee, and just moved out of the way and watched him fly into the ropes instead. He hit them hard, and rather than flying through, or over, he was flung back onto the canvas, and somehow managed to avoid a concussion. Master laughed at him, and pulled him into the middle of the ring, and tried to put him in the walls of Jericho, but Seth escaped. Seth was beginning to realize the hopelessness of the situation, Master was better than him. Although the Architect had a lot of weapons in his arsenal, the King of Kings had more. And, he was bigger, and although Seth hated to admit it, stronger, and now that it was hard, he had a nicer cock, too.
Master caught him looking at it. "I took a bunch of Viagra, just so I can pound your ass all afternoon, right after you tap out."
Seth was also afraid to unleash his arsenal of moves on Master full-force; even if he won the match, he would still be punished in some way, and if he hurt his Master, it would certainly come back to him, several times worse. He got to his feet and shoved him away instead. He wished Dean were here. Dean would somehow put an end to this. Master just kept laughing at him, and Seth wanted to cry.
Master grabbed a handful of his pet's two-tone hair, and pummeled him with his left fist. No, he was not going full-force, but Seth was still hurting where Master's blows landed. "Come on, aren't you even going to fight back?" Master taunted, and again kicked him in the stomach. This time, Seth was anticipating it, and tensed his abs and curled away as far as he could to lessen the blow.
It worked, he didn't get the wind knocked out of him. Again, he shoved Master away, and responded with his own kick that connected with the side of Master's face, and he went down. Seth scrambled over and quickly tried to put him in a sharpshooter. Master laughed at him again, and kicked him away. Seth got tangled in his own feet, and went down himself, and before he knew what was happening, Master had him in a figure four leg lock, and the pain was so great he screamed, and automatically tried to pull away, towards the ropes behind him, but without Master's give, all he did was crank up the level of his pain to the point tears came to his eyes. He had to tap, his knees were screaming, he was screaming, and if he didn't tap, he felt he might not ever walk again.
With tears streaming down his cheeks, and a growing sense of dread in his stomach, Seth lowered his left palm to the canvas, and tapped. Immediately, mercifully, Master released the hold, but the mercy was short-lived. Before he even had a chance to check how badly he was hurt, Master shoved him into a turnbuckle and handcuffed him between the top and middle ropes, forcing him to stand bent over, his knees aching so terribly he began begging Master to let him sit, for just a little while.
"You won't be sitting for quite awhile, stupid Seth." Master said, and spat on his hand. Seth couldn't see, but he could hear Master working it on his cock, and he began to quiver. No lube. It was going to hurt, it was-
Very suddenly, Master seized his pet's tanned hips and thrust his enormous beasthood in, and immediately, Seth forgot all about the pain in his knees, because it was nothing compared to what he was feeling in his asshole. It was worse than when he'd been broken. He screamed and pleaded with Master to stop, he tried to get away, but Master only held him tighter, and stabbed him deeper. To Seth, it felt like an enormous cheese grater was scraping his insides, and he tried to scream louder than Master groaned, he wanted him to stop, he would do anything to make it stop.
Seth realized he was hyperventilating. He had reached a state where the pain was numbed, he was going to faint soon. Master was moving inside him smoothly now, and Seth looked down and saw why. There was blood on his legs, and drops of blood on the mat. My blood. He passed out, the pain over at last.
When Seth came to, he was lying on his stomach in the ring. The pain in his left knee had disappeared, so had most in the right, but his asshole was still throbbing, burning, and there was more blood on the mat than he'd remembered. Master was gone. Seth used the ropes to pull himself up, and clung to them until his pain-filled head cleared a little. There were scrapes on his wrists from the handcuffs, and he felt something warm and wet drip down his legs, and cringed when he saw it was a combination of his blood and Master's jiz. He felt filthy, violated, raped. He wanted to take a shower, and limped away, down to a lower-level restroom, which he used when he didn't use the master bath. It was part of a mother-in-law suite, complete with kitchenette, and Seth had often wished that he could stay in it rather than sharing the master suite with his owners.
He stood under the spray as hot as he could take it, and watched the pinkish water run down the drain. His vision turned crystalline, and he turned his face into the spray. He couldn't do it anymore. If this was the price he had to pay to be the face of the WWE, it was far too steep. The emotional pain was far worse than the physical, though that was still at the forefront, mostly in his ass, but he seemed to have strained or sprained his right knee, there was a weird twinging pain there, that seemed to throb with his broken heartbeat.
He finally turned off the taps, and toweled off his bruised body. He was going to leave. He no longer cared if his owners killed his career, he could sign with any other promotion, anywhere in the world.
Nothing, nothing is worth this, Seth thought, as he pulled on clean clothes from one of his bags he'd left in the laundry room, and realized he had a problem. He knew from past experience he would continue to bleed for a few days. He needed protection, lest some crazy fan catch him with blood on his pants and take a picture of it for all the world to see, including the owners he was fleeing from. He went back to the restroom where he'd tried to wash the shame, pain, hopelessness, and depression away, and took a maxi pad from the courtesy basket beneath the sink, and lowered his pants and boxer briefs. He placed it, and pulled his pants up, it felt like a damn diaper, and he felt both protected and asinine, and managed a bitter chuckle, little more than a snort, but it spun his mood. He took the remaining four pads. He checked the garage, two cars gone, he was home alone, it was the perfect time to make a run for it, to hell with the consequences. He used the house phone to call a cab, he still hadn't charged his. He packed his bags, and went outside to wait, even though the air was very chilly, and it was already dark outside. He hoped the cab would come before either of his owners got home, though if it didn't, he was leaving anyway, no matter what. They would have to literally kill him to stop him.
But, they didn't come home before the cab pulled up, picked him up, and took him down the long driveway; he was safe. No house shows this week, he didn't even have to see them until Saturday, when they were to fly to Europe for ten days, if he still had a job, anyway. But really, he didn't care anymore. Nothing else mattered, even the discomfort of sitting in the cab was nothing now. He was safe. He was free.
Seth did not know New York well, and had the cab driver drop him off at an upscale hotel he'd stayed in before, though never with Master and Mistress. He just wanted to lock himself away and order room service until whatever was to happen next came to fruition.
Once in his room, Seth finally began to relax, though he still trembled. He plugged in his phone, but left it turned off. He considered a drink from the bar, but decided against it. Thanks to Master, he'd already had more than enough to drink today, and if he added booze on top of it, he'd never stop pissing. So instead, he took off his pants and shirt, and laid prone on the bed. It caressed his aching body, and he was quickly lulled into some much-needed sleep.