"Whenever you want to do this, come to me. Even if we're not fucking, come to me, so I'll know you're safe."

I stood nervously in front of the loft door, my left hand clutching the strap of my backpack, which was packed with clothes for the weekend. I'd told Ethan I was spending the weekend with Daphne. And I'm sure I'll get there at some point tonight and I will be there tomorrow night.

I knocked on the door. I knew Brian was home. It was Friday. He'd be getting ready to go out with the boys. I hope he won't mind skipping Woody's, hope he'll spend a couple hours with me. I could have called and asked first, but I knew he was less likely to tell me no in person.

The metal door slid open and Brian stood in front of me, wearing only a faded pair of jeans with the top button open as usual.

He looked at me with a raised brow, clearly able to read my nervousness as I clutched my bag. "What?" He asked after a long second of silence between us. His tone wasn't as sharp as it would have been a couple weeks ago. He'd been a little nicer, even had me do that poster for him last week. I think doing the poster is what caused the need strong enough for me to be here.

"I… uh," I stammered nervously. I took a deep breath and rushed out, "I was wondering if you would help me with something."

He looked surprised for a second then gestured for me to come in.

I walked over and sat my bag on a barstool. I opened it, knowing Brian was watching me.

"What do you want, Justin?" He asked.

I bit my lip and turned around, leather flogger in my hand. "You said to always come to you," I said softly, not quite able to meet his eyes.

Brian was silent as he walked up to me, stopping right in front of me. He reached out and took the flogger from me then placed the end of the handle under my chin, tipping my face up until I looked him in the eye.

He stared into my eyes, searching them. There was none of his usual cynicism his eyes. He didn't look at me with the usual bitterness he'd had since I walked out of Babylon. It was just Brian looking at me, searching me to see if this was what I was really wanting.

"Good boy," he finally said, already slipping into his role as my Dom. "What else did you bring?"

I blushed a little and dropped my eyes. "Just the cuffs and…" my voice trailed off.

"Collar?" He asked softly.

I nodded as best I could with the flogger handle still under my chin.

"Get them," he told me and dropped his hand.

"Yes, sir," I said softly, knowing I had to answer.

I reached into my bag, pulled out the leather cuffs we'd gotten solely for our games, and placed them on the counter. I dug all the way to the bottom of my bag for the collar. It was the piece I didn't want anyone to see it or have to explain it. This was MY collar. Brian had bought it for me as my Sub collar for when we do these things.

He took it from me, his long fingers stroking the soft leather for a moment.

"Strip to your shorts," he told me.

"Yes, sir," I said softly and pulled my sweater over my head, keeping my eyes down. I kept them down as my shirt joined my sweater on the floor, as I unbuttoned my jeans, and pushed them down. I didn't do it because I was embarrassed, because that emotion had fled as soon as I fell into my roll. I kept my eyes down because it was what I was supposed to do.

I knelt down, took my shoes, socks, and jeans off. Once left in my black briefs, I got to my knees and stared at the floor, waiting. My breathing sped up when I felt the collar placed around my neck and buckled.

"Stand up and get on a beam."

I stood up and walked to the closest beam. I stood in front of it, leaving only a few inches between the cold metal and my skin, leaned forward until my forehead touched it, and placed my hands just above my head on the metal.

I listened as he set the alarm on the door and as he called Michael, telling him he wasn't going to be at Woody's. I wanted to thank him so much for being willing to do this.

My heart pounded as I finally heard him walk up behind me. There was no warning, just the sudden pain in my back when Brian struck out with the flogger.

I cried out and gripped the beam with my hands.

He rained several blows on my back, never hitting me very hard. He was just getting my back tender. He planned on more than a quick whipping, and I was all for that. It had been months (since I left him) since I was dominated in any fashion.

Tears were starting to fall down my cheeks when the hits stopped. My back burned, but it was a burn I enjoyed, obvious by my hard on.

He moved away from me for some time, smoking and having a drink, than came back and rained more blows on me.

By the end of the fourth round I was openly crying and begging for him to stop.

"On the bed, face down, spread eagle," he ordered.

I didn't even think, just slowly made my way his bed. I laid in the center of the bed and stretched my arms and legs out, my mind numb.

Brian put the leather cuffs on my wrists and hooked them to the corners of the bed frame. He did the same at my ankles.

"How hard can I hit?" Brian asked softly in my ear, sending a chill down my spine.

"I'm staying with Daphne this weekend," I told him, my eyes closed.

"Can't let your boyfriend know you're here, can you?" He taunted, one hand smoothing down my fiery back.

I shook my head.

His hand stopped at the top of my shorts. He wouldn't try to make this about having actual sex.

He took his hand away.

The leather strips hit my back, the force much stronger than before.

I cried out with the pain, my arms jerking against the restraints. I gasped a sob as the pain raced through me.

Brian gave me a second between the first two strong hits, just like always. I know he does it to give me a change to safe word in case he was too hard.

I writhed on the bed as he whipped my back and thighs. I became lost in the sensations of the burning pain, the kiss of the leather, the cool air on my hot flesh, the sheets under my body, the friction of my shorts on my aching cock. The pillow under my face was soaked with my tears and my voice was getting hoarse from my begging.

I cried out in pleasure in the middle of the sobs when my orgasm suddenly rushed through me, my cock exploding and soaking my briefs.

The blows stopped after a couple more minutes. I continued to shift around on the bed, my back and thighs on fire, tears still streaming from my eyes.

I still don't understand why I enjoy this, need it sometimes even. I asked Brian once, hoping he knew, but his only response was that I just did and he understood having such a need. (I still don't know what his need is.)

I moan brokenly when I feel Brian gently rubbing cool cream onto my burning skin. It hurt, but was still soothing. I buried my face in the wet pillow, enjoying Brian's treatment. So often this wasn't done until after he fucks me, but there would be no fucking.

Brian walked back into his bedroom. He'd left Justin there asleep over an hour ago. The blond had drifted for some time before passing out. He'd known Justin would pass out, he always did.

He stared down at Justin. He still lay on his stomach, his back and the back of his thighs covered in red welts. He knew those would fade away by the time the boy went back to his boyfriend Monday.

He'd been so surprised when Justin showed up and asked to be whipped. When he'd found that the blond had taken the flogger and collar, he'd assumed he'd let his new boyfriend use it. He was pleased that Justin came to him, trusted him.

Brian sat down on the edge of the bed. It was time to wake him up and get him to Daphne's.