"Jack" Series, Part 3: Jack Accepts

3. Just Like Rocky

I can’t remember what it was, exactly, that made me realize there was some kind of history between Sal and Gabe. A look or a comment, I suppose – a passing reference I overheard somewhere, or maybe the way Sal eyed Gabe when he thought no one was looking. Whatever it was, I ended up asking Rocky about it one day while I was supervising his workout at the gym.

"Yes, sir," Rocky agreed easily, in answer to my question. "Sal’s always had a thing for Gabe. For years."

"What … Tiran doesn’t share?" I asked. "He does with me."

Rocky glanced up at me, breathing a little quickly from his effort on the elliptical machine. "Yeah, he shares, sometimes. He likes to … tell himself he’s doing Gabe a favour by letting him be with other guys."

I laughed a little. "And does Gabe appreciate that?"

Rocky gave me a wry look. "Of course not, sir. He got that out of his system a long time ago. He’d be happiest if he never had to leave Tiran’s side, now."

I could believe that. "So, is that why Sal hangs around all the time? To borrow Gabe?"

Rocky hesitated, then turned away a little to adjust the machine. "He doesn’t borrow Gabe anymore, sir."

I walked over and set the machine back to its previous setting. "I’ll take care of this. You tell me the story about Sal and Gabe. Before I start getting impatient."

Rocky straightened and faced me candidly. "Sorry, sir," he said. "There’s not much to tell. Sal’s always wanted Gabe. Tiran started loaning Gabe to him way back, before we moved here."

"How does Gabe like Sal?"

"Can’t stand him. Never could."

I smiled, pleased to hear it. "I don’t blame him."

"Yes, sir. Anyway … you know how Sal considers himself a dom. And Gabe’s a pretty natural sub. So I guess Sal liked to … play with him."

I frowned at the idea of Sal getting to act out his dom fantasies on such unspoiled material. He’d probably butcher a novice like Gabe, I thought idly. Then it hit me, and I looked over at Rocky with a sudden queasy feeling.

Rocky was watching me, and I guess he read my look and saw that I understood. He nodded slightly. "Yes, sir. I … think Sal realized Gabe had no interest in him and – and that made it worse."

Jesus. Guys like Sal make me sick. They give the rest of us a bad name. "Was Gabe badly damaged?" I asked quietly.

"He’s pretty much recovered now." Rocky gave me a curious look. "You’ve seen him, haven’t you?"

I nodded. I’d noticed the faint trace of scars on Gabe’s back, but I guess I’d never stopped to wonder where they came from. "I suppose Tiran put a stop to it eventually."

"Yes, sir." Rocky said. He was struggling a little on the machine now so I could understand why his answers were a bit clipped.

"He must have realized what Sal was doing."

Rocky raised an eyebrow. "Apparently not." He took a gulp of air and went on, speaking between breaths. "Think it usually happened when … Sal had Gabe for a few days. So … Gabe made sure he was cleaned up when he got back. And Ti didn’t … check him out regularly."

"So how did Tiran find out?" I asked. "Did Gabe complain, finally?"

"No." Rocky answered quickly, then fought to find his breath again. "Gabe would never say anything."

I looked at him thoughtfully. "You? Did you know what was going on?"

He nodded. "I knew, sir."

"And you stopped it? You always tell me you only use your veto to protect Tiran."

Rocky looked at me with almost a smile. "That’s right, sir." He paced his words. "I didn’t use my veto."

"But you could hardly stand by while your son … "

Rocky finished his set and stopped, leaning forward to catch his breath. After a moment he turned to face me, still a little flushed from the workout. "I don’t speak for Gabe, sir. I did once, and now I’m done. I don’t speak to Tiran for anyone else but me, now."

I met Rocky’s gaze, remembering his lack of concern about Dusty’s career earlier. "So how did Tiran find out what was going on?"

"I told him," Rocky said quietly. "Eventually. Gabe is Tiran’s property, and Ti’s entitled to know when his property is being abused. I thought Sal might do permanent damage to Gabe, so I told Tiran."

I nodded slowly. No love lost between Rocky and Sal, that was for sure. "And … ?"

Rocky got off the machine and began warming up for his run. "Tiran stopped loaning Gabe to Sal. Sal still wants Gabe, but he doesn’t like to admit he fucked up. Now Sal looks for subs at the local bars, and Tiran loans Gabe to Ric Morrison instead." Rocky looked up and flashed a grin at me. "The other day when you punished Gabe for flirting with Ric?" he reminded me. "Gabe has orders from Tiran to do that. Ti wants Ric to think Gabe actually enjoys it."

I rolled my eyes. "Why didn’t you tell me that earlier, Van?"

He looked a little surprised. "I … wouldn’t want you to think I was questioning your decisions, sir."

Smartass, I thought. "Six extra laps for the backtalk," I snapped.

Rocky stared at me for a moment, then shut his mouth and dropped his eyes. "Yes, sir. I’m sorry." He stood up, ready to go. "Shall I start now?"

I surveyed him for a moment thoughtfully. "Is that the end of the story?"

"As far as I know, sir. I already told you the other part, about Sal wanting your job. Now you can probably see why."

I could. Revenge came to mind, for one thing. No wonder the boys had been worried about it. I nodded at Rocky and sent him off to begin his laps.


**********


That conversation was really the root of the trouble that followed. After what I’d heard from Rocky, I couldn’t hide my disgust for Sal, and began treating him with open contempt. He realized it immediately, of course, and in return, stopped acting like a sympathetic colleague with me and began taking aim wherever he could. It was more or less open warfare between us, which was fine with me; Sal didn’t scare me. But as often happens when someone uses enough ammunition, one of his shots eventually hit its mark.

We were out on the town one night as usual, moving from place to place, gaining and losing people as the night wore on. We ended up at a local club and, as the crowd ebbed and flowed, I found myself sitting at the bar next to Sal.

I knew something was up because he was oozing friendliness and conviviality, which had to be hiding some malevolent plot, but I’d had a few drinks and was in a good mood and couldn’t be bothered to take him seriously. So I just let him talk while I drank and surveyed the room, waiting for better company.

"I bumped into a friend of yours the other day," Sal said, after a few pleasantries, or what passed for pleasantries with Sal.

I barely paid attention, assuming he meant one of Tiran’s gang. But then he named someone from my old life – a Master I used to work with sometimes, back home. I hadn’t thought of that scene in a long time. Sal saw that he had caught my attention and went on, pouring words into my ear smoothly.

"He was real interested to hear I knew you. Said you used to be one of the finest doms he’d ever worked with, a real loss to the scene."

It was good to know I hadn’t been forgotten and my reputation was intact, so I leaned in to hear more of Sal’s words.

"He wanted to know what you were up to now," Sal went on, his voice like honey. "So I told him. I guess you told everyone you were coming down here to work for Tiran, didn’t you?"

I had, in fact. It was nothing to hide, and I hadn’t expected to be here very long at the time. I glanced at Sal, puzzled, wondering what he was getting at.

"Don’t worry, I kept up appearances for you," Sal said, with exaggerated confidentiality. "I made it sound just like a real job."

Real job? I stared at him, but the drinks were slowing down my processing facilities. "It is a real job," I said thickly.

I could see Sal’s delight at goading me into a response. "Of course it is," he purred. "I’m sure your work is very important to Tiran. No one would ever imagine he paid you just to keep you hanging around."

I stared at him. He picked up his glass. "Well, cheers." He tossed back the rest of his drink and stood up. "Night, Jack," he said, sweet as sugar, and then he was gone, and I was left sitting there by myself, trying to work out what had just happened.

I actually didn’t figure it out that night; someone else came along and distracted me, and I went on for the rest of the evening with only a vague feeling of irritation and foreboding.

But it hit me clearly and unmistakably the next morning. I woke up knowing exactly what Sal had implied. For an instant I dismissed the idea as ridiculous; but almost immediately, I found myself reconsidering.

I thought back to the way Tiran had originally approached me, with what he called a job offer. Had I actually considered it a real job back then? As I thought back, all I remembered was that I hadn’t taken anything Tiran said seriously. I thought the boys had set him up on some bizarre stunt for their own benefit in some unknown way. I assumed it was war between me and the hangers-on Tiran was saddled with, and my only consideration had been how much damage I’d be able to do to them before they conspired to get rid of me.

I’d told my friends that I was going down to Tiran’s "for a while", to kick some ass and let the free-loaders know that someone had Tiran’s back. In my home crowd, all my friends knew of Tiran by reputation and many had met him when he came up to visit me; I’d basked in my association with him and the curiosity and admiration it drew. I’d positioned my trip here as rather more of a temporary, social visit, with the added bonus of wreaking a little havoc on Tiran’s harem, than as a career move.

As time went on, I did come to take my work seriously and consider it a real job, and certainly I put in more than an honest day’s work on many occasions. When I went back and saw my old friends I might refer in passing to my work here as Tiran’s disciplinarian, and I know I made it clear that he was paying me. The blood froze in my veins a little as I thought about that now. Had I ever explained to people what I was actually doing? Or did they just think I began accepting money from Tiran while extending my original visit?

I remembered the nights out with old friends, on visits home, when I casually mentioned my "job" with Tiran. I remembered the nods and smiles I got in response and now, for the first time, I saw the cynicism and the barely concealed disdain behind them. No wonder, I realized in a flash – they thought I came down here to rescue Tiran from the exploitation of his so-called friends … and instead, they watched me become a part of it.

I felt my face grow hot as the realization sunk in. How could I have let that happen? Why had I not realized what people must think of me? It had been too easy to casually drop references to Tiran, and my new life and healthy salary, without clarifying what had changed or describing the actual work I was doing. It was too easy to believe the rapt attention, all those nights holding court at the old neighbourhood bar, was admiring and envious – not the mocking, contemptuous response of people watching their former friend co-opted and corrupted.

And now Sal was out there, spreading his lies and innuendo. I cringed at the thought of him poisoning the ear of my former fellow dom, whose respect I valued and had worked long and hard to win. What did he think of me now? And what was he telling the other tops back home? Jack Obernikoch, the former proud and powerful Master – now Tiran Marx’s paid lapdog. It must be everywhere already.

I woke from my thoughts to see I had pulled out a suitcase and begun packing even before I was aware of it. When I realized what I was doing I didn’t stop – the one thing I knew was that I couldn’t stay here in this sham of a life any longer. Not now.

And then, as I packed, it got worse. It suddenly hit me that maybe Sal’s suggestion wasn’t just a cheap lie for payback purposes. Maybe I really was no better than the boys I’d purportedly been hired to discipline. I remembered the deep, withering contempt I’d felt for Rocky when I first arrived – the supposed "best friend" who took Tiran’s money just to hang around and be his friend. Suddenly it occurred to me to wonder if I was actually any different. Sure, I had a job – a role, at least, in Tiran’s life … but so did Rocky, didn’t he? In fact, his job might be even more demanding, more important than mine – he looked after Tiran’s interests, didn’t he? And what did I do, really? How much work was it to discipline a bunch of poorly trained but willing, well-meaning subs? They didn’t fight back or resist my efforts; in fact they welcomed me and accepted everything I did. Yet for this I accepted a salary … that now looked to me a lot like Rocky’s allowance.

But – Tiran! I thought to myself. Tiran wanted me here; he had asked me to come and discipline his boys. That was a valid request and a legitimate role; a good disciplinarian is worth compensating – even Sal had said so.

And then my blood ran cold again, as I remembered the way Sal had talked to me that day in the gym – his feigned surprise at the idea of Tiran being my client; the faint suggestion that the boys were running the show. How much interest had Tiran really taken in my work with his boys? Had he ever cared at all? I remembered his refusal to weigh in or give me instructions when I first arrived, his hands-off indifference to how I went about my job.

But didn’t he appreciate it when I brought his subs to heel? Hadn’t I earned my keep many times over, stepping in to control the boys, forcing them to show appropriate respect and submission to Tiran? What about the other day, when Rocky didn’t want to go to that convention with Tiran? I had taken care of that, and hadn’t Tiran thanked me for it? I thought back to the way Tiran had looked at me as Rocky finally backed down: he was entertained, I thought now; more amused at the interplay between me and Rocky than grateful. More images flashed through my mind – moments when I’d punished or chastised the boys in Tiran’s presence – and I saw the way Tiran watched in the background with mild concern or faint interest. As I thought about it I realized that Tiran essentially tolerated my discipline of his boys or, at best, found it mildly diverting; other than that, it seemed to be of no particular importance to him.

I felt myself flushing again as the revelations came to me, and had to sit down, mortified at thought of Tiran humouring me all this time. In fact, I realized now, the only real interest he’d shown in me was when we were socializing. I thought of his excitement and enthusiasm when I first arrived, the way he took me under his wing and immediately brought me into his innermost social circle.

At the time, I had wondered if Tiran was a little lonely – if he missed close companionship with someone he could consider an equal. I thought about Paul Armstrong, the nearest thing Tiran had to a peer among his close friends – the way Paul resisted Tiran so strongly and how Tiran was willing to accept him on any terms. I thought of Tiran’s fractured relationship with Rocky – their familiarity and intimacy mixed with Tiran’s flashes of insecurity and intermittent rank pulling. No, there weren’t many people in his life who Tiran could think of as both a friend and an equal.

It was true, I realized, my heart sinking. It was impossible to escape the conclusion. Tiran had lured me here to act as his companion. The money I took from him wasn’t a salary for my professional work; it was an allowance intended to keep me close, ready, available for his convenience. Just like Rocky.


**********


Just like Rocky. The phrase echoed around my mind as I packed – steadily, this time, not in an impetuous frenzy, like that other time a few months ago. It was later in the day, now, and I had a couple of suitcases packed and ready to go in the car; the rest of my things I was boxing up, so they could be shipped after me.

A faint sound made me look up from my work. I had been so absorbed that I didn’t hear Gabe arrive for his shift, or come up the stairs. Now he stood in the doorway watching me, and I saw from his stricken, devastated expression that he realized what I was doing.

"Please, sir … " he breathed, before I said anything. "What are you … why are you leaving? What did we do? Please don’t go, sir – please."

I paused and looked at him, feeling slightly cynical. No doubt Tiran wasn’t going to be happy to see me leave. Gabe was probably worried that I’d blame it on the boys.

"Don’t worry," I said brusquely, turning back to my work. "I’ll make sure Tiran knows it wasn’t your fault."

I guess I thought that would shut him up, because I was actually caught off guard when he threw himself onto his knees in front of me. "Mr. Obernikoch, please … please don’t go. " He was almost whispering his entreaties, urgent and intense. "We need you here, can’t you see? What would we do without you? Please, please tell me what we did wrong and I swear we’ll make it up to you. Right now – whatever it takes – I promise!"

I stopped and looked at him again, more thoughtfully this time. It occurred to me that his concern was probably genuine; he, at least, did appreciate my discipline. "Sorry, Solly," I said, sincerely this time.

"Was it me, sir?" he asked, more frantic now. "Something I did? One of the others? Please, just tell me who it was and I’ll get them in here for you! Please, please, don’t leave us, sir ..." His voice trailed away despairingly.

"It’s not you, Gabe," I said gently. I realized, as I spoke, that I bore him no ill-will. Or any of the boys, for that matter. "It’s nothing to do with you, any of you. It’s just time for me to be going."

He stared at me, and suddenly got to his feet. "It’s Tiran?" he said, uncertainly at first. Then he added quickly, "I’m going to get him, he’ll be right here, please just wait one second, sir."

I sighed a little. Another scene. I started to protest, then realized I was wasting my breath. No sense trying to avoid having it out with Tiran anyway; he’d find me one way or another. I shrugged and went back to work.

Gabe started to leave, then darted back, fell to his knees again and dropped a kiss on my foot. "Please don’t leave us, sir," he breathed. And then he was back on his feet and I heard him running down the stairs.

I looked after him for a moment, and went back to my packing. I was actually feeling surprisingly calm about the whole thing. I wasn’t even particularly angry at Tiran. I could understand why he did what he did. If anything, I almost felt sorry for him.

Gabe was as good as his word; Tiran was there within a few minutes. I won’t bore you with all the details of our conversation; it was just what you would expect. Tiran denied everything, insisted he had hired me for my professional skills, vowed he valued me for my work, not my company. He swore he saw improvements in the boys already, said my work had made his home life comfortable and happy for the first time in years. In short, he did everything in his power to convince me of what I could no longer be convinced.

I listened for a while, then told him politely that there were no hard feelings and I hoped he’d come and see me sometimes, like he used to do. It was tempting to call him on all of the things I’d realized that morning – his lack of interest in my work, his resistance to the discipline of his boys, his self-centered manipulation. But what was the point? Tiran is what he is. And like I said, at the end of the day I didn’t really blame him for any of it.

Tiran’s used to getting his way, so you can imagine this didn’t go over well with him at all. He demanded to know where I’d gotten my ideas, who’d been pouring the poison in my ear. By this time I’d all but forgotten Sal’s role in the whole thing; in fact, when I thought about it, I kind of appreciated him telling me what I should really have figured out for myself. So I almost didn’t give a name to Tiran, until I remembered what Sal had done to Gabe. Apparently that hadn’t been enough to end Tiran’s friendship with Sal; maybe this would be. Anyway, I didn’t want to saddle the boys with Sal as their new disciplinarian, if Tiran bothered to hire another one after I left. In the end I told Tiran the truth – that Sal had sparked the thought, but I was the one who realized the full truth of it. I got a little satisfaction out of seeing the fury in Tiran’s eyes when I told him about Sal.

It took a while but I eventually got Tiran more or less calmed down. Nothing he said had any impact on my decision, but in the end he did make one point – that it would be unfair for me to leave without saying something to the boys. He pointed out that tomorrow was Monday, so I agreed, finally, to stay one more night and speak to everyone at the regular weekly meeting in the morning. By this time I was already feeling a faint trace of melancholy for the boys – it wasn’t their fault, after all, and it occurred to me that I might almost miss them.

I finally persuaded Tiran to leave, and went back to my packing. Soon afterwards, I heard knocking at the front door and figured Gabe had spread the word among the others. I had no intention of going through individual scenes with all of them, so I ignored the knocking and called up to the main house for security, then turned off the phone. One of the security staff came over and I stationed him at the front door for the rest of the evening to turn people away. By the time I had finished packing, there were messages on my mobile from everyone – all of the boys, Paul Armstrong, some of the people from the other complex, and of course, Tiran again. I deleted everything unheard, and went to sleep with my mind at peace.