Part 3 The pained expression on Justin's face brought a frown to Tim's.  "This is one of your lessons. With that face, everyone will ask you what's wrong.  What are you going to tell them?" "Sir, I ..." "Change the look, boy.  Hide the pain.  Be a man." He turned away before Justin could beg for some relief, waving for Justin to follow him.  They walked to breakfast in silence and Justin noticed the strange looks that he got again.  Lance especially, glanced from Justin to Tim, a slight frown on his face. Justin was sure he could hear the whirring in Lance's brain, adding things up. He sighed and grabbed a bowl of cereal before sinking gratefully into the padded chair and trying to surreptitiously adjust his erection to relieve the discomfort.  He ran his hand across his forehead and sighed again, swallowing it quickly when he saw the sharp look Tim gave him. "Hey, Jus, what's up?  You've been missing in action.  Something we should know?" Lance asked. "No.  Um, Tim's been, uh,  helping me," Justin said, the idiocy of the response sounding in his own ears.  No one asked with what, though the question was on Lance's face.  Justin was tired.  He had already had a long morning and he wasn't up for playing mind games with one of his best friends. He changed the subject.  "So, Lance, what is our schedule for today?" "Rehearsal, rehearsal, interviews, rehearsal, oh, and rehearsal."  Justin wanted to cry.  Normally he was fine with their grueling schedule but today, the thought of dancing with this erection appalled him.             "Hey, Justin," JC called from across the suite.  "Brit called our room. What's with no phone?  She said your cell is off, too." Justin lost it.  "Shit.  I told her that I would call her when I could.  I've been fucking busy." He stood up and knocked over the chair as he pushed it out of the way and stormed out.  He felt Tim's eyes on his back, but he just didn't care.  He slammed the door to his room and threw himself on the bed.  He wanted to jerk off and get some relief and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what was holding him back.  Tim was probably disgusted enough to cut him loose.  Brit was pissed even though he had explained.  Last, but not least, the rest of NSYNC probably thought he was insane. He felt tears threatening and willed them back.  Fuck if he was going to cry and lose every little bit he had worked for in the last day.  So he rolled onto his back, put his hands behind his neck and thought boring thoughts about boring topics. When the knock came, he figured it was one of the guys coming to get him for rehearsal.  He opened it and dropped his eyes immediately when he saw Tim standing there, his expression unreadable. Tim brushed past him.  "Shut the door, boy.  Come here and kneel down." Justin obeyed, his hands balled into fists, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.  "That was disgraceful." "But, Sir, I..." "Stop." It was like the crack of a rifle and Justin winced.  "No.  Excuses." He emphasized each word.  "Am I wasting my time, Justin?" Justin nearly cried with relief.  Just the question meant that Tim wasn't ready to jettison the lessons just yet.  "No, Daddy, I'm sorry.  I was bad." "Yes.  Punishing you does not seem to have the desired effect.  It is a battle of wills now, boy, and I intend to win." He had the look of a predator as he circled around Justin, one deliberate step after the other.  Chills ran down Justin's spine. When he stopped in front of Justin, Justin trembled, waiting for whatever Tim was going to do.  The older man lifted his chin and stared into anxious blue eyes.  "You are going to go to the hotel shop before we start rehearsal and buy a Speedo suit.  The tight ones.  One size smaller than you normally wear." Justin closed his eyes, anticipating the nightmare that would be.  Tim slapped him lightly.  "Did I tell you to close your eyes?" "No, Sir." "Get up and go now.  Meet us at rehearsal.  Just bring your purchase back.  Hand it to me in front of everyone." Justin swallowed hard and his panic was evident. "The first part of your lesson is to hide your fear.  Give me the bag.  No fear.  Understand?" "Yes, but..." "That is an unacceptable phrase and it keeps coming out of your mouth.  No more," Tim snapped. "Now go." Justin left and adjusted himself once more as he waited for the elevator.  Even irate, Tim turned him on.  What the hell?  He wanted to touch himself, just a little, just one or two sweet strokes.  The elevator bell dinged, announcing its presence, and Justin shook his head. He got in, so dazed that he didn't get Lonnie or Dre and went to the lobby with no disguise.  When the doors opened, he gasped, finally realizing his mistake.  A small group of teenies had set up camp in the lobby and squealed that high-pitched noise that required in-ear monitors on stage. Luckily the hotel had their own security watching and several large island men rushed over and ran interference. Justin thought of what Tim had been teaching him.  He plastered a smile on his face that said, Everything is just peachy, thank you.  "I'll sign a few autographs, girls, but I really have to go.  OK?" The adoring girls nodded and pressed in until he was surrounded by waving arms with pads and pens.  He was starting to get claustrophobic but, he laughed to himself, his hard-on was fading.  Bet *they'd* be surprised, he thought, as he signed page after page. He gave a pleading look to the security men and they pulled him out of the crowd, asking quietly where he wanted to go.  He pointed and they accompanied him, waiting outside as he went into the empty shop.  He felt the blush start and willed it away, achieving only partial success. "Can I help you, sir?" the polite young sales clerk asked.  Justin was so nervous his mouth was dry and his words came out in a parched croak. "I...need a suit," he said.  The girl looked confused.  "A swim suit." She smiled then and led him to a rack filled with suits of all colors and sizes. "What's your size?  I'll find it for you." "No," he said, too forcefully for the situation.  She looked crestfallen and he knew if Tim were present, he would get another reprimand.  "I'm sorry, I ...it's ok....I'll just....look for myself..." he said.  "But thanks for asking," he added quickly as if Tim had spies in the room. She moved away, occupying herself behind the counter while he went through the assortment.  Most of the prints were JC-ish nightmares, but he finally found a red one in size 30.  He grimaced at the thought of squeezing himself into that small piece of material. He took it to the front and damned if she wasn't determined to be helpful.  "Sir, this is a bit...small for ....someone your size." Justin blushed so hard he was sure blood vessels were bursting and he bit his lip, concocting what he hoped was a reasonable reply. "It's for my friend," he said weakly, but she only nodded and murmured an apology so he figured she either bought it or she had excellent customer service skills. She wrapped it and had him sign it to his room.  "Thanks." He ducked out as fast as he could and was whisked to an elevator before another onslaught began.  "Too small?" he thought as the car rose. "Right about that, sister." He only had a minute to come up with a plausible excuse for being late, not to mention explaining why he had to buy "something" for Tim.  When he walked in, every single eye in the room focused on him.  He only saw Tim's face– the superior smile that said, This is where I want you.  Next time behave yourself. Then there was a buzzing of voices as one after the other, all the members of NSYNC grilled him. "What the hell...What is the matter with you?....You ok, Justin?....You having sex withdrawal or something?"  The last was from Chris and Justin's head snapped up so quickly that Chris laughed gleefully. "Ha, our little virgin is having a sex crisis.  See that thing on the end of your arm....?" Justin was torn.  He wanted to knock Chris down and shut his mouth but he saw Tim watching, so he just turned and walked away.  Chris's mouth fell open.  Justin Timberlake *never* walked away from a challenge.  He stared at Justin's back. Justin walked over to Tim and handed him the bag.  "I got what you asked for," he said simply and looked into Tim's eyes.  There was no change of expression but Justin could feel the approval and it was all he could do to keep a happy grin off his face. Curiosity was on every face but no one said a word.  Tim put it aside and picked up the music he had been reading.  "Let's get this done," he said, throwing Justin a meaningful look. Unfortunately, as warm and fuzzy as Justin felt emotionally, physically his dick was hard as a rock again.  Unfortunately, he couldn't find a way to adjust himself without arousing more suspicion.  He bit back a sigh and took his place, concentrating on his parts. They went over and over every last note until Justin wanted to cry.  Discomfort and fatigue were stripping him of what little control he had.  He whined when they started "Lean on Me" for the tenth time, "Please.  Can we take a break?" Tim glared and said, "Why are you more tired than the rest of us?  No one *else* is complaining." Justin looked down, tears of embarrassment forming.  He rubbed his eyes, attempting to hide his weakness from everyone so that when he looked up, only a trace of wetness remained. Tim nodded so imperceptibly that only Justin noticed.  He was too tired to even feel good about it.  "A break?  I guess we all could use a break.  Fifteen, twenty, thirty?" "Thirty," a chorus of voices answered.  Before he could even agree, the room emptied and he was left alone with Justin. "Let's go, boy," he called and turned, assuming that Justin would tag along.  "Oh and bring the bag," he called over his shoulder.  Justin picked it up.  The thirty minute break would probably not be that for him. They went into Justin's room and Tim locked the door.  "Strip, Justin," he said. "Yes, Sir," Justin replied softly.  He took off his clothes and dropped them in a messy pile. "Fold them, boy." Justin was too tired to resist.  He bent down and folded them, placing the pile neatly on a chair.  Tim watched him, wondering how much farther to push, and then made his decision. "Close your eyes." Justin did, a frisson of fear causing a slight shiver.  Tim looked.  The young man's face was drawn, the emotional and physical tension taking its toll.  He knew that breaking *this* boy was not a three day job. He took Justin's hand and pulled him to the bed.  He pushed back the covers and told him to lie down, guiding him into the bed.  Then he gently tugged the covers up.  "Rest, angel boy.  I'll watch over you." "Thank you, Daddy," Justin murmured as he sank into sleep. Tim watched Justin's breathing, soft and sweet, like a child, his face free from worry and anxiety. Tim steeled himself to continue the training.  It was for Justin's own good.  He felt his dick stiffen inside his jeans and he unzipped, stroking himself to orgasm.  There was no noise, years of control evident, just a release of thick white cum. Before waking Justin, he cleaned it up.  He could have made Justin do it, but he didn't want the boy to have the satisfaction of knowing that Tim had jerked off watching him sleep.  Justin rolled onto his back and stretched, momentarily disoriented.  He started when he saw Tim standing over him. "Up, boy, nap time is over." Justin jumped up and Tim was happy to see he still had a half-hard cock.  He took him to the bathroom, slapping Justin's hand away.  "I'll help you.  Don't touch." "Yes, Sir," Justin said through clenched teeth, his old fire back..  Tim laughed to himself.  Like a frisky colt.  They were always the best once they were broken in.  He aimed Justin's dick and smiled at the pretty pink of the boy's cheeks. "Wait for me out there," Tim ordered and Justin slipped silently out of the bathroom while Tim took care of himself.  He knew Justin wanted to watch so he pointedly shut the door. When he came out, Justin was standing loosely.  Tim glanced at his watch.  Time for a quick lesson.  "When I tell you to stand and wait for me, this is what I want.  Hands behind your back." Justin did what he was told.  "Spread your legs." Justin spread them slightly until Tim slapped his thigh and he made them wider.  "That's it.  Understand?" "Yes, Daddy," Justin said. "Now go get your suit and bring it here."  Justin obeyed and handed Tim the bag, trying to keep the apprehension off his face.  Tim took it out of the box and held it up.  "Yes.  Now let's get it on.  We don't want to be late." He held it open and Justin stepped into just like when he was a small child.  Tim tugged it up, pulling it over Justin's narrow hips before tucking him into it.  It was like a second skin and Justin looked distinctly uncomfortable with the tight, almost painful, fit. "Good.  Now finish dressing and hurry." Justin was quick when he had to be and he was ready in less than two minutes.  They walked back to the rehearsal together until Tim slapped his forehead, "Damn, I forgot something.  Go on ahead.  Tell them I'll be right in." Justin was near the open door when he heard familiar voices.  Chris, Lance, and JC were discussing him.  "Well, why is that so unusual?  They're both from Tennessee," JC said. "Would you spend *every* free minute with someone from Maryland?" Chris asked with a snort. JC didn't reply.             "He seems different, that's all we're saying, Jayce," Lance said, a note of something in his low voice that made Justin nervous.  He decided it was time to end the conversation. "Hey, guys, we ready?" he said in as light a tone as he could manage.  "I just saw Tim in the hall and he said he'd be right in." "So, Justin," Lance began, "what *do* you and Tim do all the time?  We haven't seen you at all." "Working on some ideas.  Want to join us?" Tim said, as he strode into the room.  Justin's eyes widened at that and if they hadn't all been looking at Tim, they would have gotten their answer. "No thanks, Tim, we were just wondering," said JC, who idolized Tim almost as much as Justin did. "Well, any time," Tim said with a smile and Justin understood what he meant about control and self-discipline.  Justin was sure that Tim's expression wouldn't have changed at all if the others had said they wanted to hang with them.  He knew he would have fainted and that he had a long way to go before he had that kind of control. The next session went smoothly and they all broke for lunch, laughing and talking like always.  Justin felt Lance's eyes watching but he ignored them and tried to put on a relaxed front.  "Interviews after lunch.  Downstairs.  The wardrobe lady will meet us there," Lance said. "If I get the weird outfit one more time, I will *know* it's a conspiracy," JC said.  "Do you know that half the girls on the boards think I'm blind?" "And how do you know what the girls on the boards think?" Joey chuckled. The conversation went on, but Justin had spaced out.  He was still thinking about the wardrobe lady and how he would explain his red Speedo.  Shit, how had his life gotten so complicated in twenty-four hours? "Justin? Hello? You home?" Joey was waving a hand in front of Justin's face.  Justin came back to the room and laughed nervously, "Sorry, daydreaming." "About Tim?" Chris asked with a leer.  When Justin ignored the comment again, Chris said, "Is this the new and improved Justin, a big boy?" "Leave him alone," Lance said. "Let's go back to why JC spends time on the boards reading about us." JC groaned and they all burst out laughing, including Justin. The interviews went well.  Justin convinced wardrobe to let him wear his own pants and if the stylist noticed his hairless chest, she made no comment.  They gave him a shirt of some silky material and it slid across his newly sensitized skin, sending more nasty messages to his nether regions. He shook his head.  There was nothing that was not arousing at the moment but he bit back the urge to touch himself and sat down on the wall, facing the interviewer. The questions were all about Tim.  He didn't even know what he said.  Some shit about him being a  "man's man" and he vaguely remembered the phrase "flirtation with danger." Oh fuck.  He'd have to get the addresses of the boards from JC and find out what the fans made of that! Another short break and the group was practicing  alone.  Rehearsing their dances, Justin repeated, "Control, control, control" to himself as a mantra.  All he wanted to do was run off the stage, rip off his clothes and jack off.  He figured at this point, the whole thing would take about ninety seconds. The combination of nerves, discomfort, and worry finally took their toll and he fucked up the whole dance.  It was an old one, one they had done thousands of times, and he turned the wrong way, knocking into JC and sending him sprawling. "Ooh," Chris taunted, "Fred Astaire screws up." Justin helped JC up and stammered an apology, doing his best to ignore Chris. "What's up, Justin?  Sex on the brain?" Chris went after him again, determined to get a rise out of the normally volatile boy. "Yeah," Justin said simply, "Ready?" And they started again and this time it went smoothly.  Two hours later, Justin had moved from discomfort to pain, the movements creating sensation everywhere he had recently been shaved. When they finally finished, Justin nearly collapsed into a puddle, hoping that they would get a real break before practicing with Tim again.  Lance, the schedule keeper, announced with fanfare that they didn't have to be anywhere for two hours. Chris ran over to Justin, "Hey, bro, want to go to the beach?" "No, man, I need to lie down." Chris cocked an eyebrow, "What's with that?  I'm thirty and *I* don't need a rest." Justin sighed.  He wanted to say, "No one woke you up this morning and shaved you.  No one gave you a hard-on that you've had for forever with no end in sight.  No one sends you on embarrassing errands that drain you emotionally." But he didn't say that.  He just said, "I don't know, Chris.  Later, man." Justin trudged to his room and found Tim waiting in one of the arm chairs.  He pointed to the floor in front of him and Justin dropped to his knees, near tears from exhaustion.  He stared at the floor.  When Tim remained silent, Justin started to look up, but stopped at the sharp "No." "What do you want, Justin?" Tim asked gently. "I want to jack off, get rid of this hard-on for awhile, Sir." "Well, that's not possible.  Not today.  What else?" Justin's shoulders sagged. "Lie down and sleep, Sir." "All right.  Get undressed and get into bed." Justin looked up, amazed.  "Do it before I change my mind." Justin was undressed, clothes folded, and under the covers in Olympic record time.  "Scoot over, Justin," Tim said and Justin made room for him. Tim brushed his fingers through Justin's new curls and said, "I watched you rehearse today.  I was very proud of you.  You didn't let Chris get to you.  You showed control." Justin glowed.  "Thank you, Daddy." "Now sleep.  Don't touch yourself." Justin was so thrilled with the praise he didn't even need the warning.  He would wait forever if he had to. Continue Menu Feedback