The first time it happened, he was sore for 3 days afterward. It didn't hurt, really - he was beginning to relish the pain. But the dull ache it left…that was what he had trouble dealing with.

After the first time, he stood in the locker room, searching every face, looking for a clue, but there were none. Even now, week after week, he looked, but no one was giving away any secrets.

Now, he stood outside his hotel room, the key card poised over the lock, his stomach a jumble of butterflies. He pressed his ear to the door, listening for a sound, a sign that he wouldn't be alone that night. Hearing nothing, he slid the card through and pushed the door open, stepping into the darkness of the room.

His hand reached for the light switch, but a soft voice stopped him. "Don't."

He nodded, not sure if the gesture could be seen in the dark. Stepping into the room, he dropped his bags at the end of the bed and stretched. "You look so hot when you do that." The quiet whisper of the voice never gave anything away. There was no discernible accent, no soft drawl - again, no clue as to who his visitor was.

He knew the routine already as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark. Walking toward the chair, he kicked off his shoes and sat down to remove his socks. The rest of his clothes followed, piled onto the chair before he made his way to the bed. He stood there, hands at his sides, as he waited for the blindfold that would cover his eyes, blocking out any chance of seeing who his lover was.

Once the cloth was tired behind his head, he crawled onto the bed and lay on his back in the center. Strong hands gripped his wrists as soft restraints were placed over them, securing him to the bed. He sighed, not sure if it was a sound of relief or resignation.

A soft chuckle echoed off the wall as the other person in the room moved around, preparing everything for the night ahead.

The first time it happened, he had explained the marks on his body with a simple statement - "I was playing with the cat and it attacked me." He smiled to himself, remembering that conversation. It wasn't a total lie, he thought as he heard the familiar sound of leather swishing through the still air. When the cat o' nine tails landed on his belly, he arched off the bed, hissing and growling at the same time.

The burn of the leather strips kissing his skin started traveling up to his chest as the cat fell on him again and again. The thoughts racing through his mind slowed to a crawl with every blow. In the beginning, he had fought the pain, and concentrated on trying to figure out who the mysterious person in the room was. Now, he just enjoyed the pleasure that this person gave him week after week.

He felt the bed dip as the other person climbed on next to him. Strong hands roamed over his chest, scratching through the welts. Nimble fingers closed over his nipples, caressing softly at first before pinching sharply. The skin on those hands were slightly rough, but still gave no indication who they belonged to.

Even when the strong body stretched out on top of him, he still couldn't tell who it was. The body was close to his height but not as thick as his. The lips that pressed against his chest were soft, smooth - and very talented. The tongue that flicked over his nipples was soothing.

The bed shifted again and a tiny creak of metal sounded. Sharp biting pain caused his eyes to water as the clamps closed over his erect nipples. That was a new thing, but not totally unexpected. Every time, there was something new added to the mix - the hard paddle, a riding crop, hot wax.

He felt a hard cock pressing against him as the clamps were tugged on slightly. He hissed louder and the soft tinkle of laughter reached his ear again, tickling its way into his brain. His cock throbbed at the sweet friction and he smiled in the dark. "You like that." He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

The only times he had ever spoken was to ask who…why…what. He didn't bother anymore. He knew those were answers he would never have. Now he just let the mystery work through his mind, playing a guessing game with himself every time. One day, his lover would slip up and the mystery would be solved. One day, he would know who to thank for the intense pleasure he received. One day…

That silent mouth slipped over the swollen head of his cock, swallowing him into the back of its throat. He moaned, finally letting his brain rest as the blood flowed South. His arms strained against the headboard, his hands wanting to make the natural progression downward to cup the head that bobbed between his legs.

There were no hands to grasp his hips or stop him from bucking upward to get even more contact. They were too busy, stroking the inside of his thighs, cupping his balls, moving lower. Fingers were too busy circling his opening, feeling it pucker beneath their touch. The tips were slick, wet already with lube, as one slipped inside him.

The touch was always the same - slow, soft, tentative at first. Then one finger became two, scissoring inside, stretching him. And then one fingertip reached its destination. The tapping on his prostate was rhythmic, almost musical. He chuckled softly at the thought - a mysterious composer playing a symphony in his ass.

The laughter died as a third fingers slipped inside him and he knew from experience that the torture would continue forever, unless he said one simple word. "Please?" Silently, he cursed himself for asking, almost begging. He cursed himself for being so weak, so needy. He cursed the man above him, the one who held his life in his hands, if only for a short while. As the fingers slipped out of him, his cursing was met with soft laughter again.

*Patience." Under the blindfold, he rolled his eyes. He was known for a lot of things, but patience was not one of them. "Fuck me." Subtlety wasn't one of them either. For a brief moment, he thought he recognized the laugh that followed, the full, throaty sound that bounced off the walls as a hard cock slid inside him.

His legs were pressed back, his knees coming to rest almost on his shoulders. Hands snaked around his thighs, tugging on the clamps as he was slammed into again and again. Sweat begin to glisten on his chest and stomach, stinging the wounds there as skin beat against skin. He growled, louder this time as the spot inside him was bumped over and over.

Arms flexed, trying to reach out as a fist wrapped around his cock, pulling him closer to climax. His body was stretched taut as he felt the explosion deep inside him. Seconds later, he screamed as he exploded as well, leaving a puddle of wet stickiness on his belly. They rested there for a moment before he felt that emptiness again.

Tongue snaking out, licking his essence from his body…followed by a lewd smacking of lips. It was his turn to laugh now. A warm, wet kiss on his lips signaled the end of this encounter. He almost pouted as the restraints were removed from his arms and he lowered them, shaking the blood back into circulation.

The sheet was pulled over his still quivering body and he closed his eyes as the blindfold was removed. He knew he could probably sneak a peek at the other man, but…the mysterious identity of his lover added to the excitement. A soft kiss was placed on the center of his forehead.

"Bye, Dave." He nodded slightly as he felt the other man move away from the bed. He sighed again as his mind played around the events of the evening. As he heard the door open, he made his decision. "Wait." He sensed the hesitation as he spoke again. "Am I ever gonna get to see your face?"

It was the other man's turn to sigh. "Maybe," he replied. "When the time is right." The door clicked closed and Dave opened his eyes, looking around the darkness of the room. Once again, he had been tied up, beaten and fucked thoroughly - without ever knowing the name of his lover.

In the hallway, he heard the faint ding of the elevator signaling its arrival. He crawled from the bed and crept over to the door, once again pressing his ear to it. His eyes grew wide with shock as he heard voices in the hallway.

"Hey Shawn."

"Hey Ty."

He was afraid to open the door, afraid to see for himself who was getting on the elevator or who had just come off. For now, the mystery of who was coming and who was going would have to remain just that.

Read the sequel Stuck on You