"Jack" Series, Part 2: Jack Adjusts

2. An Inventory

My professional life was proceeding comfortably. The new strategy with Rocky was a clear winner. He continued to stay calm and controlled with me, but I wasn’t imagining the disquiet in his eyes when I kicked his ass or made him crawl in public. Occasionally I thought that with this tactic working so well, I could afford to back off on the regular corporal punishment. But in the end I didn’t, mainly because, well, I enjoyed it. In fact, as Rocky adapted to the mild physical discipline I had started out with, I began to take it up a couple of notches and introduce slightly harsher instruments. Still nothing elicited a complaint or protest.

I wasn’t sure why, but around this period Rocky seemed to begin spending more time at Tiran’s place and less with his family in Vennington. I remembered that when I first arrived they told me he usually came to Tiran’s about once or twice a week, but now it seemed more like the reverse; he went home maybe that often. I also noticed that he occasionally didn’t come back with us after a night out; he’d disappear discreetly with a new acquaintance and make a quiet appearance the next morning after breakfast. Of course, Tiran and I often did the same thing, though unlike us, I noted, Rocky tended to make his exit with women, usually around his own age.

From the beginning, I had assumed that Rocky had no real role to play in Tiran’s life other than as a hanger-on or perhaps, charitably, a companion. While that still seemed to be true, I did once or twice stumble on discussions between Rocky and a couple of Tiran’s business managers that made it seem as if they were consulting him on some official decision. It was a bit odd, since I knew Rocky didn’t have a formal position within Tiran’s organization, and I almost wondered if Tiran was aware of what was happening. But I was still feeling my way around and I didn’t want to alienate any of the staff unnecessarily, so I kept my mouth shut and just continued to watch what was going on around me.

Meanwhile, with the feeling that Rocky was under control, I was beginning to spend time thinking about my other charges. I picked up more information about them every day, and it all factored into to the way I approached their disciplinary needs.

Aside from Rocky, Dusty St. Vincente was the other strong personality in the group. He was charismatic and confident, as you’d expect from an actor with a burgeoning Hollywood career. Naturally I knew of Dusty before I met him; he wasn’t a huge star but had a small, respectable career, with a handful of critically acclaimed roles behind him. What I saw now was the careful line Dusty walked between Hollywood fame and life under Tiran’s control. I realized that the reason for his limited career was that he only took roles with Tiran’s permission, and Tiran was extremely selective. Of course Dusty had his own agent – that would have been too much effort for Tiran – but Tiran held and often used a veto power over all decisions the agent made.

In general, Tiran seemed to like and respect Dusty and to support his career -- he didn’t pull rank or play power games with him just for fun, at least not as much as he did with the others, and he was generally careful to ensure Dusty met all of his professional commitments. Of course this meant that Dusty was away a lot, often over a few days, for work, meetings, tests or auditions. What Tiran did do was keep very careful tabs on Dusty when he was out of sight. Apparently Tiran had well-placed informants, and he kept up with the gossip rags; he also relied closely on Blackie, who generally travelled with Dusty and reported back faithfully on everything he heard and saw.

The result was that Tiran’s weekly list of infractions was usually longer for Dusty than for anyone else. It was as though Dusty was the only person Tiran actually took the process seriously for. Mind you, Dusty never did anything really wrong – he was held too tightly in check to even approach "bad boy" celebrity behaviour – but the tiniest hint of trouble was carefully monitored and listed. So his infractions were things like being seen at a club he didn’t have explicit permission to attend, missing his curfew (yes, he had one), reports that he had been less than gracious to fans, wearing the wrong clothes in public, spending time with the wrong person, saying the wrong thing to the media.

For my part, I took these items seriously, since Tiran obviously did, and I punished Dusty probably more severely than anyone else, with the possible exception of Rocky. Of course I had to refrain from anything that would leave a mark – even in covered areas, since you never knew what he might need to uncover when – though I did think he responded well to corporal punishment so I liked to use a couple of tools that didn’t show their impact. But mostly for Dusty I focused on exercise and training. Like any actor, he had to work out regularly; I got to know his personal trainer and found ways to maximize his usual routines in a way that caused the most pain without doing any long-term damage, and, incidentally, generated lovely results. Believe me, Dusty St. Vincente never looked as good as he did during the years he was under my regime.

Dusty accepted all of this with good humour and no complaint, at least not to me. He did ask frequently for permission to speak to Tiran afterwards, and since I found Tiran often allowed it, I didn’t stand in the way. I guess they needed to work things out on a regular basis; Dusty needed to keep clarifying what was permissible and what he was expected to do in new situations. The life of a minor celebrity on a short leash can’t be easy.

I didn’t have all the background on Blackie, but his relationship with Dusty seemed to go way back to the mists of, well, high school or so. They’d obviously grown up together, and it didn’t look to me like they’d ever been any other way than dom/sub. I suspected, in fact, that Dusty was probably a natural dominant who had accepted – or appeared to accept – his sub role with Tiran for reasons I hadn’t quite figured out yet; and by accepting Dusty, Tiran had acquired Blackie pretty much by default.

Blackie was friendly, open and engaging, with a wide grin and a very earnest desire to please. Though Dusty would obviously always be his first master, he showed no hint of resistance to Tiran, even when carrying back stories that he knew would get Dusty in trouble; and Tiran – who would know – never had reason to disbelieve him. Blackie went everywhere with Dusty, except when Tiran deliberately held him back, like a hostage he knew Dusty would always return for. At home, I could see that Blackie was a little anxious; sometimes he took on tasks for the other boys, and he willingly lent a hand to anyone who needed one.

I did get a hint of history between Dusty and Blackie that seemed to cause a lingering, general discomfort. I sometimes wondered if this, whatever it was, had reinforced the bond between them, and if it had anything to do with why Dusty was under Tiran’s command. But no one was talking about it so I filed those questions away with many more, to await further information.

Tiran rarely listed infractions for Blackie, and I was sometimes a little hard-pressed to come up with any of my own. Unfortunately for Blackie, he was blond and blue-eyed, with the kind of all-American-boy good looks that tempted me to find reasons to punish him. Fortunately for me, I have high standards. If nothing else, I could usually extend some of Dusty’s offences to Blackie as well. So it was relatively mild corporal punishment for Blackie, more for my enjoyment than his benefit, and he rarely got any kind of follow up assignment.

Originally I had expected Pat Van Valkenburg, Rocky’s younger brother, to be one of the major players among Tiran’s boys. But I realized quickly that while Pat might have had a strong presence once, he was too shy and beaten down now to have much influence over anyone else. Once again, I lacked the full story of his history with Tiran – I’m a patient man; I was prepared to wait – but I could see the effects of it clearly enough.

Pat lived with the most stringent rules of all the boys, as far as I could tell: he was not allowed to come into, leave or sit down in Tiran’s presence without explicit permission, or to speak to Tiran without being spoken to first. Rumour had it that Tiran had promised instant expulsion – without Adele and the kids – the first time Pat broke any of these rules. Considering how closely everyone lived together, following these rules on a daily basis was actually more cumbersome than you might suppose, especially with so much at stake. It was obvious that the pressure was taking its toll on Pat. I understood why Tom had offered himself up in place of his father.

It was hard to imagine what would drive Tiran to such a harsh and implacable position against someone who seemed as innocuous as Pat. One night, early on, I was sitting with Tiran after dinner when I saw him receive a small note along with his next drink. Tiran paid no attention to it then, but later in the evening he casually scanned the page while we continued to chat. Noticing my curiosity, he handed it over to me, and I saw that it was a short, earnest message from Pat, with words to the effect that he knew his happiness depended on Tiran’s continued goodwill and that he was grateful to have made it through another day without losing it.

"He sends me one of these every day," Tiran explained, and I saw what you might almost call a twinkle in his eye.

"Is it one of his rules?" I asked, handing back the note.

Tiran shook his head. "No, it’s a choice. He could stop if he wanted to. But so far … he’s never missed a day."

Of course I saw the note ritual repeated regularly after that, and from the slight softening I could see in Tiran’s expression every time he read one, my guess was that those rumours were dated, and the impact of a broken rule now might be less swift and sure than Pat feared. Nevertheless, Tiran was in no hurry to reassure Pat, and seemed content to let him live with the stress.

For me, punishing Pat felt a bit like kicking a man while he was down, but since Tiran’s rules for him were so strict I thought I needed to be equally harsh. I think Pat actually found it reassuring that I was so hard on him; maybe it made him less likely to forget himself and break one of his rules. He was getting better at taking physical discipline so I was pushing him a little harder every week, and I often gave him assignments in the gym or the fields as well. He was a keener.

It took me a while to fully understand the details of Tom’s role as a stand-in for Pat. At first I just included him in the duty schedule the same as everyone else, so that Pat, Tom and the others each had the same number of shifts. Eventually Gabe very gently explained to me that Tom had offered to share Pat’s shifts, so technically Tom and Pat together should do the same number of shifts as one other person on the schedule. I wasn’t thrilled about this but I asked Tiran and he confirmed it. "I have no hold over Tom, other than as a replacement for Patty," he said casually. "He belongs to Paul. And I don’t need Paul pissed at me because I’m taking up too much of Tom’s time." So from then on I split Pat’s shifts with Tom.

Gabe, unlike many of the others, offered no mystery to me at all. He was the one I best understood; he was a slave, a natural submissive, and if I didn’t know all the details of his early relationship with Tiran, I knew all I needed to. There was no doubt in my mind that Gabe had been in love with Tiran almost since the day they’d met – and that was probably over twenty years ago now, since Rocky and the others had adopted Gabe when he was in his very early teens. And Tiran, despite their rocky history, seemed quite fond of Gabe, though he showed none of that silly sentimental attachment you so often see in Masters with household slaves.

The one thing that puzzled me about Gabe was how little Tiran used him. I guess Gabe looked after Tiran’s early mornings and late nights, but other than that, he was just another shift in the duty schedule. The rest of the time he seemed to have no official duties or functions either in the household or personally for Tiran, though I didn’t doubt that he would have liked to provide more service. Occasionally, when Tiran wanted to free one of the boys from their duty shift, he would send them off saying, "Oh it’s okay, I’ll just get Gabe till the next shift starts," and Gabe would always be there within minutes. I’m sure it was the same when Tiran wanted more physical service; Gabe would always be the default option when no one else happened to be handy.

It probably goes without saying that the boys were available sexually to Tiran, but I suspected there were one or two exceptions. Not, though, for being part of a straight couple – several of the boys were in formal het relationships and that didn’t seem to make any difference to Tiran; he expected, and he got. Tiran especially enjoyed taking Dusty when he was at his most famous – like right after a new movie opened or when he made a red-carpet appearance. Sometimes Tiran would stake his claim publicly, making it clear that Dusty serviced him on demand; and Dusty, to his credit, always accommodated Tiran graciously and without hesitation. Pat was rarely selected but I saw him look genuinely thrilled when he was given the occasional opportunity. And Rocky – well, Rocky was always, unmistakeably, available.

The exceptions, I suspected, were Adele, and possibly Tom – I wasn’t sure that Paul would share – and definitely Rusty. Rusty was still in his teens; I think Tiran considered him too young to corrupt. If Blackie had the classic all-American boy looks, Rusty actually was the boy next door. He was brash, outgoing, cocky, full of life and adventure, and very, very straight. He had manfully accepted a role in the decadent, male-dominated, authoritarian drama around him, but he would never really fit the part.

Though Rusty was always counted as one of Tiran’s subs, Tiran freely admitted there was no good reason for it. Rusty had committed no crime, other than falling victim to the foster care system, running away and fending for himself, before Tiran found him one day by the side of the road and brought him home. Tiran told me his original plan for Rusty had just been to give him a job on the estate for a few years and a chance to finish school, so that he might have a better start in life. But Rusty had instinctively gravitated toward the other subs, perhaps in an effort to fit in, and Tiran let him join them more or less to be nice.

By this time Rusty had become something like a foster son to Tiran. There was speculation that Tiran was grooming him as an heir, though I personally doubted it. I wasn’t sure whether Rusty was encouraging the speculation but the possibility was enough for me to include him in the general category of freeloader. Since Rusty was often boyishly bold or mouthy, I had plenty of reasons to punish him each week, though not too severely; he often got time with the gardener, extra chores, or privileges taken away - the kind of thing I thought the boy next door might get at home - but rarely physical discipline.


All in all, by the time I’d been there a few months I felt I had a nice rhythm going with the boys. There were a few bits of missing information, but mostly I had a handle on everyone. I knew where they were coming from, what their weaknesses were, how to discipline them most effectively. Like I said, it was a sweet gig.