Indiscreet Box Set

Chapter 1-3

However, Master Drummond did not need to flog or whip a sub to demonstrate his mastery. A strong arm did not prove dominance. It proved the Dom had a submissive with the ability to handle pain. He loved to spank a round, tight, perfect ass, and knew exactly how much force to use to make the sting and heat pleasurable and exciting. He had the talent to wield a variety of b**m tools. He chose not to do so unless pressed. He was the acknowledged champion of the single-tail bullwhip. He could wield his weapon of choice maximizing pain while reducing lasting injury, a much-prized skill among b**m enthusiasts.

However, Bear did not want a sub who loved his whip, he wanted a sub who loved his Bear.

A sub who gave his Master absolute trust, perfect obedience with reverence and grace demonstrated the Master’s true ability to dominate his submissive. A Master did not obtain submission by lavish reward or by extreme punishment. He obtained it by earning trust and inspiring love.

Donald remained uncompromising against even the appearance of infidelity. An infraction of this tenet of Donald’s personal code was his Achilles’ heel leftover from his time with Antonio. He would not forgive infidelity, even the idea of a flirtatious sub rubbed him raw. Growing up in a working class family, with a drunken and abusive father who flaunted his infidelities in front of his mother, Donald Drummond never had anything he could keep for or to himself. On his seventh birthday, his mother had saved enough money to buy him the Millennium Falcon, Hans Solo’s ship from Star Wars. It was his favorite toy. He stayed up late that night playing with the action figures, totally absorbed in his imagination.

Donald did not hear the footsteps in the hall until it was too late to put the toys away. He made a valiant effort to put the model back into its box and under his bed before his father could open his bedroom door.

“What the f**k are you doing up so late, boy?” his father asked.

“I was playing, Dad, I’m sorry. It is only ten minutes past bedtime. Please Dad.”

Donald knew what was coming.

“Is this the foolishness your mother spent my hard earned money on?” His father staggered into the room. He had only managed to get the Falcon into its box and shoved halfway under the bed. His father bent down to pick up the box almost falling over in the process. Donald could smell the beer and whiskey on his breath.

Donald tried to catch his interest. “It’s the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars, Dad, isn’t it a beauty?” His father sat down on his bed and Donald began to hope.

“Donald, your bedtime is at nine P.M., not ten minutes after. This is interfering with my household.”

His father threw the beloved toy on the floor, got up off the bed, and crushed it with his heavy work boots until there was nothing left. “This is what happens to things that cause disobedience. Now pick that mess up, stow it in the trash and all those stupid dolls that go with it. I’ll make a man of you yet.”

Donald began to cry, when his father noticed his snuffling, he backhanded him across the face. “Get rid of this s**t now. You can spend the night on the porch, you sniveling little bastard.”

Donald’s nose started to bleed and his father grabbed the paper bag out of his pocket and took a swill of whatever remained and threw it on the floor. “Go, now, and don’t let me see that kind of s**t in my house again.”

Donald crept out to the porch listening to his mother’s tears and cries of pain. He tentatively knocked on the backdoor of his neighbors, the Sanatores. Mama Sanatore welcomed him warmly, disposed of his broken toy and the broken bottle of Seagrams 7 in the bag. “Is your mama all right?” she asked.

Donald shook his head in the negative. “Don’t worry Donnie, I’ll send Pop over to put him to bed. Meanwhile let’s get some ice on your nose and I’ll check your hands for cuts.”

In the background, Donald could hear Pop Sanatore cursing out his father and Mama telling him, “Just get him to bed, Sal.

You call the cops and then what, the bastardo will be back in the morning to do more damage. I’ll keep Donald here tonight, he can get his school things in the morning. You see to his Mama too, eh?”

The next morning when Donald went for his books and school clothes, he found his mother sporting a black eye and his room torn apart. His father smashed every toy beyond recognition and was snoring in the living room, sleeping it off.

His clothing, his toys, and his room…nothing was ever safe from his father in a drunken rage. As a result, Donald began to keep anything of significance with the Sanatores and became very protective of what was his. This is why it was not in his makeup to share the boy who would become the center of his life. He shared his wealth with charities all over Trenton and Hamilton. When Pop Sanatore got laid off from his job at the linoleum factory, he bought the property on Route 29 and invited the Sanatores to come and live with him to take over the housekeeping and maintenance duties.

He asked them to work, only because he knew Pop would not take a handout.

Therefore, he shared his home with Mama and Pop Sanatore and their assorted family. Donald was not cheap, or selfish, just protective. There were things he gladly gave away, but after his father and Antonio, he could not, would not share his boy.

Once he decided to claim a boy, the boy would be his. The contract prepared for his boy to sign contained explicit clauses regarding prohibitions of certain behaviors around other males.

Donald would make it very clear at the onset of the relationship.

If his boy permitted another man to touch him, his contract became invalid. The contract clearly stated any breach of this clause would mean banishment from Donald.

Donald had no compunction over sending a boy naked to the Master who defiled him. The clause that required fidelity in his contract was, by his own instruction, unbreakable. The only person who could rescind it was Donald, and Donald couldn’t conceive of an occasion where he would void that clause.

The fidelity clause was harsh, almost Spartan in its rigidity, but it would remain in the contract as a warning to any boy who dared to think of Donald as an ATM.

If the initial trial period of a contract ended, and both Donald and the sub mutually agreed to part ways, the sub would receive a generous cash settlement.

If there was subterfuge on either side of a D/s relationship, no true power exchange existed. The trust the power exchange engendered made Donald’s d**k hard. For someone with an inability to trust, trust became Don Quixote’s unreachable star. For your boy to look up to you with absolute love and trust was the headiest feeling on this earth. Most Masters knew the submissive held the real power in the terms of the Power Exchange.

A Master must earn the trust and love of the sub. It became the ultimate gift, the gift of giving complete control to your lover.

Because of this gift, a sub would sit at the center of his Dom’s life and become his total focus. If a boy earned his trust, Donald would deny him nothing. He would sell his very soul to keep his submissive lover at his side.

He shook his head to purge his mind of the thought.

Everything is in place. All I require is a boy who can restore my faith with his honesty. I can learn to trust again. I will find my perfect boy. He is out there waiting for me. I have to know this and to believe in it with my entire being. I will love him and he will love me in return, and I will trust my lover.

Donald stiffened; he would not travel around that weary circle in his mind. Obedience, lust, and love, if he got so lucky, were enough. If he never quite brought himself to trust his lover completely, so be it. He learned not to trust at too early an age for him to forget the lesson now. He disciplined his mind back to the fantasy in his head.

Donald watched in his mind’s eye as his massive hands massaged the boy’s body with sweet scented almond oil, making love to his n*****s and bare chest. His boy did not necessarily have a virgin ass, but it would be tight around his throbbing shaft.

As Donald’s mind sunk into the whirlpool of his fantasy, his alternate persona, Master Bear of Indiscreet took hold.

Bear’s mouth would torment the balls bound with a c**k ring and suck vigorously on his sub’s c**k building pressure, so it leaked copious amounts of pre-c*m, despite the tight fit of the leather harness surrounding the balls and base. Maybe, if the boy begged, he would add a weight or two to hang from the bindings.

His boy had two n*****s pierced. They had gone together to get it done.

Donald pictured a platinum chain connecting the piercings and smiled for the first time this morning. His c**k rose rapidly as the familiar fantasy played. Throwing his head back, he pulled a long, hard stroke, dropping further into his daydream. He closed his eyes and pictured the scene. He grabbed at the bulbous head of his c**k and stroked it to the script.

Bear honed his own skills in preparation for his boy by teaching Doms again. A picture-perfect Dominant in tight black silk and leathers highlighting what Antonio had called his kong-sized c**k, Master Bear, the toughest Top in the state, hid a tender heart. He ratcheted up the heat as he pulled harder, while squeezing and rolling his balls in his other hand.

His fantasy played on in his mind standing in front of the sink. He and the boy attended a function at Indiscreet. He stood, speaking to Reed. Jim Boy, Reed’s sub, stood behind Reed in a Standing Attention mode.

His boy knelt, legs parted revealing his long, thin, perfectly formed c**k, encased in a c**k ring that Donald had secured a few hours before. His head remained bowed, but his eyes were alert beneath his long lashes to watch so he could anticipate Donald’s smallest desire. The boy kept his hands locked behind his neck, with his ass poised on the back of his heels, his spine straight and showing no strain after holding his position for over two hours.

Donald tapped his trousers with the index finger of his left hand, once. The boy rose with effortless grace from Kneeling Attention to his knees and, keeping his eyes lowered to the floor, crawled to a position which placed his face at the center of Donald’s belt. He opened his Master’s belt and undid the closure to his tailored pants.

The fantasy in his head was echoed by his now erect member.

Abundant streaks of clear pre-c*m leaked from Donald’s thick c**k head. He took his manicured thumb and pressed it into the slit, rubbing the liquid around the head. His shaft felt as hard and heavy as polished concrete over steel, Donald let the fantasy to play out to its inevitable conclusion.

Donald closed his eyes and imagined the boy as he reached into Donald’s dark silk boxers with hesitancy, waiting for his Papa’s permission. Although his boy loved to suck his Master, he knew sucking his Master’s c**k came as a privilege given or withheld at Master’s discretion. He caressed the sub’s wavy, platinum hair, pressing down on his head in encouragement.

Those long slender fingers cupped and kneaded Donald’s balls as the boy’s hot tongue engulfed his c**k and worked its way down to his sacs with cat-like licks.

His boy learned in detail what his Master craved. He followed the licks by flicking his tongue up, down, and across the prominent veins on the underside of his shaft. He would then adjust his mouth around and under the head of his Master’s huge c**k, until Donald shivered with need. Donald pulled his boy’s head closer. This amazing boy gave him total control over every aspect of their lives. All he asked for in return was his Papa Bear’s attention and care for his health and happiness.

Bear thought he received immeasurably more. He tapped his boy’s neck and the perfect oval of a mouth with wet pink lips swallowed the whole nine inches of Bears fat c**k until it hit the back of his throat. He relaxed his throat muscles and suppressed his gag reflex, and then he began to massage his Master’s c**k with the muscles in his throat. To do this, he had to trust in his Master to pull back and let him breathe. The fantasy felt so real to him he could feel the boy sucking his c**k.

Bear took pride in the fact the boy placed his hands in a locked position behind his back. He knew the Master he loved would never harm him. Therefore, the boy would neither gag nor attempt to pull back, giving Donald the power and trust to do as he would. Donald would go deep, f*****g his boy’s mouth with hard, swift strokes. He would come in streams and his boy would swallow it all and keep Donald in his mouth, licking around the head and shaft until Donald became soft, drained dry and depleted.

When Donald ran a rifling touch through his hair, his boy straightened Donald’s clothes and resumed position, navy eyes shining up at his Master in adoration, love, and absolute trust.

Donald worked at his c**k, and several strong pulls later, released. He came in long streaks all over the sink and countertop, leaving him shaken and holding onto the rim.

He knew his faults. Neither his face nor physique would win any competitions. He tried to even the playing field by the understated elegance of his surroundings and conservative panache of his wardrobe. Even if Bear would be more comfortable in jeans and leathers, he dressed like the Prince of Wales to convince himself of his own worth and prove to those who knew him back then, that now Donald Drummond was a man with whom to be reckoned. He finished cleaning the sink and vanity with a disposable wipe and whispered his request aloud.

“Give me a boy of my own. I need to be special to someone: A Papa Bear…” He had wasted enough time today on this foolishness, he really had to get…

A loud thump interrupted his thoughts, followed by the sound of a slight click. Seconds passed, then a muffled voice hissed, “Oh s**t…Fuck.”