A/N: I know! I really should not be starting a new story! But when given the S&M go ahead one can hardly just go right past it! lol. Trevor Collins is actually a charcater from Esquirella's awesome story 'The Gay Man's Matchmaker'. It's a cool story you guys should go check out it and anything else she writes - as if you haven't already. This story starts off a day or so after what happen's with Trevor and Kee in TGMM.

Warning: This story contain's S&M. If you don't know what that means, I suggest you look that up before continuing. It will contain most aspects of the lifestyle including sensual M/M scenes. So basically you get your deprivation, humiliation, objectification, whipping, cages, Shibari, collar/cuffs, branding, spanking, play rape, brief polyamorous relationships, Gorean, ownership tattoos and maybe some wax play. If that don't cover it ... well then, I guess I'll have to add more. And for those of you who prefer to skip this part, let's add this just so you know for sure what you're getting yourself into - S&M Gay/Yaoi/Slash!

Now, only one question left ... Can ya dig it?

Chapter One

Trevor grimaced as his bright green eyes rested on the latest edition of Gourmet standing front and center on one of the many outside magazine stands. It was a small, tingling reminder of his past advance and his unexpected ass-whipping coming quickly back to haunt him. Damned boy ... no respect whatsoever. It had been and still was a huge blow to his dominant pride - it also made him think a bit before selecting such large boys.

The very thought of the way he had changed his entire preference simply because of one bad apple pissed him off. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was a Master, Goddamnit! He should have been the one to beat that little shit's ass for his uppity notions! Should have been ... but should haves didn't count. He felt like a total and utter pussy ... even if the other guys of his acquaintance didn't know about his run in. He knew it and that in itself was one too many people.

Sighing he made his way into one of many bars he frequented - the Silver Cuff. He quickly made his way over to the bar. Ordering a straight shot of Jose', he turned settling his back against the grimy bar and downing the shot glass. Glancing about the crowded bar he felt sickened, he felt weak. He felt no better than the assholes that were striving for his own attention with their subtle glances and degrading clothing. Some wore collars, some didn't, some were a bit forward - which were the ones who in truth really needed the discipline Doms like himself dished out ... though some were Trevor's own size, if not bigger. Some were exactly his size and that, he noticed, made him darken all the more.

He turned slightly at the feel of a faint ruffle against his side. The old bar stool beneath him squeaked a bit at the movement. Green eyes stared down onto a mop of blond curls, spilling all over the man's shoulders in a rather unfashionable way. His head was tilted just low enough where he could look submissive but still give a potential master a view of his face. He was cute, though nothing special. His top lip was covered with a trim moustache that made Trevor want to do nothing more to him than rip it from his skin. He hated for his boys to have any hair at all, much less some covering their faces. No, the hair on top of their heads were enough. The man was dressed in tight blue jeans, his shirt missing and a stylish collar snug about his neck.

"You know," Trevor drawled, leaning back slightly as the man's blue eyes raised to look him in the face, proving clearly just how inexperienced he was. "A collar should never be worn for the hell of it. It should be given as a symbol ... as a rite of ownership from Master to slave. Do you understand, boy?"

The man nodded vigorously, a faint blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

"Furthermore, the hair you wear upon your face and body is unbecoming. Most Masters prefer their boys hairless, particularly when the slave is just starting out in his training. You should save your future Master the trouble and just get rid of it, leaving only your curly mop, boy." Trevor stated, setting his long empty glass upon the counter and nodding to the bartender to refill it.

"And last, but most certainly not least," he bent down a bit, only stopping when he was eye to eye with the man, his hand threaded in that mop, "Don't you dare - ever!- look a Master in the eye unless you are told to do so, you disrespectful little asshole." The hand in the man's hair was abruptly jerked back and the blond was suddenly sprawled out over the dirty floor.

Grinning to himself he turned back to the bar, immediately taking the shot back before slamming it once more upon the counter. He didn't notice the amethyst eyes that bore into him, nor did he see the pale pink lips of his newest admirer turn into a sadistic smirk that was much more subtle than his own ... but purely, genuine. This mouth wasn't fixed nor forced, as Trevor's seemed to be.

Gianni watched as the man with the bright green eyes studied him ... taking note of the sure movements that seemed to hold just a hint of reprimand. Like a sullen, naughty child that had just been scolded. He had not missed the bored gaze the man had thrown all across the room nor could he have not seen his newest interest's most recent display of machismo. This one seemed so sure of his masculinity, of his dominance. It would be pure pleasure to break him down. Show the prick what a real Master was like.

He had been watching this one for awhile now, had seen him his past two visits to the bar and had planned his sensual downfall since the first sight. There seemed to be something off this night, however, something that caused this boy to be a bit off his game, so to speak. He seemed distant, lacking his normal animosity and prowess. More open to his watcher and yet closed off to the rest of the people within the bar. For a man whose thoughts were supposedly domineering, it was implausible for him to be moping so at the bar, downing drink after drink to rouse himself.

This told Gianni once again what he had guessed upon seeing the man. This green eyed beauty was in denial, convinced of a superiority he had never held. He was like the rest, a slave to be trained and punished. And if he truly proved himself worth while, he would be marked as his Master's permanent property.

He did not hesitate, but quickly rose from his chair near the back of the crowded room and made his way to the bar, taking a seat next to his new interest but making sure to leave a space open inbetween them, then he ordered.

"Scotch on the rocks," and his voice was low but deep made even sexier by the light Italian accent. It was the accent that caused Trevor's head to turn in his direction - and stay there.

Trevor's heart sped up, beating rapidly in his chest, the noise overcoming his eardrums for a brief few moments. Sitting down this man looked to be about six inches taller than him, his body solid and large, shoulders broad and well muscled. He could see the toned lines of the man's back outlined by his black long-sleeved shirt. He was truly a behemoith of a man. Green eyes traveled to those big, rough hands that gripped the glass before bringing it to full, soft pink lips that when closed were set in perfect archer-like bow. His nose was straight and fit the size of his face to near perfection, making it neither too big nor too small. Perfect. His face was clean shaven and his cheekbones were high, seemingly setting up the most enchanting dark purple eyes he had ever seen in his life. The black brows atop them were surprisingly slender but didn't seem professionally cared for. But it was that long dark hair that topped this man off, literally. Black hair fell in soft waves down just past the man's shoulders - which seemed quite a ways considering the length of that visibly muscular neck.

"What the fuck do you think you're looking at, asshole?"

Trevor was more than a bit shocked when that soft voice whipped out at him, striking a fear in him that he hadn't felt since grade school. He hadn't realized he had jerked back like the weakling he was until his ears were filled with the man's husky laughter. His cheeks reddened more than a bit and he could feel the heat touch the tip of his ears. He was so embarrassed. If the situation with Kee hadn't made him into a total pussy then this too-hot-for-human-eyes guy did. Still pride would not allow him to let it go and sulk away like some ... like some bastard slave.

"I am not an asshole, prick, and I suggest you learn the bitches from the bulls really fast or you won't last long around here," Trevor sneered, his nose curling slightly in agitation as the man settled back against the bar with a look of cold indifference.

When the man merely sat looking at him after his snide remark he rolled his eyes.

"Fucking assholes, no respect for their betters whatsoev - " His comment was cut off with a efficient slap to his left cheek. His eyes widened to a near comical size, disbelief written upon their glazed surface.

"You will never speak of yourself as my better, or even my equal. You are an imposter, a high strung slave that needs to be brought to task, attore grazioso." The man's voice had not once raised an octave. His face had not boiled over with anger nor heated up with fury as Trevor's had. He was calm, collected, thoroughly in control - and it pissed Trevor the fuck off!

"You motherfucker!" he growled, though not enough to bring any more attention to himself than that slap had. "If you ever hit me again ... Don't you ever hit me again! And what the fuck language are you speaking? If you're gonna talk shit, then at least say it so I can understand you, you foreign cockbump!" Trevor clenched his jaw as his head snapped back with another blow.

"From this point on what you do or say to me will be punishable by me," Gianni replied as he gripped the man's chin hard when he opened his mouth to speak. Telling him without words what a bad idea it was. "You need to be trained, taught, forced into the submission you should have learned years ago."

"Listen clearly," Trevor said, jerking his chin from the larger man's hand - or at least trying to, he wasn't that suprised when that hand stayed steadfast in its place. "I am not a fucking sub! I am not some pussy or a boy in need of a good ass whipping. I am a Dom, understand? You speaka de english? Understand Jose'?"

Gianni was admittedly taken aback and thoroughly pissed. The little bastard had actually resorted to ethnic remarks. His hand quickly moved from the man's chin to his throat, placing a light but firm pressure upon it. He looked up into enchanting green eyes and smiled at the fear that crept up within them. He then leaned forward, very much like Trevor had done to the blond earlier.

"I am going to train you. I am going to break you. You are a slave, my slave for the time being. I have a lot of money, power and a lot of time, attore grazioso. I need little more than that to bring you to task."

Gianni pushed him back slightly as he released him.

"Do not make this any harder than it has to be. You are mine, do not force me to make your life hell. You will spend three weeks with me and in that time I will decide just how much or how little of a Dom you are. We will also see if you are worth my effort." Pulling out a card he handed it to the angry green-eyed man, grinning a bit to himself as he went ahead and paid the bartender while he had his wallet open. "You will meet me there, tomorrow night at 8 p.m. sharp - or else."

And with that last softly spoken demand, he turned his back on Trevor and made his way from the bar.