"Jack" Series, Part 3: Jack Accepts

9. Ships

I left the club soon after that final beer, so I wasn’t hurting the next morning. But the irritation and displeasure I’d gone to bed with the night before were still with me when I woke up.

I didn’t want to go to the main house until I had to, for my office hours. Tom had my kitchen well-stocked so I just made a little breakfast and some coffee and sat out on the back deck to think things over for a while.

A message came from Tiran while I was out there – just a few words on my mobile: I was an ass last night. See you later on? XXX. I smiled a little to myself. Typical Tiran. Part of my irritation was directed at him, for sure, but he obviously wasn’t pissed at me, and we’d work it out, I guessed. I didn’t answer the message; I’d see him around soon enough.

Of course the other part of my annoyance was for Rocky. He’d be showing up during office hours, no doubt, so I wanted to spend a minute or two figuring out how to deal with him.

The white-hot fury of the night before had abated slightly; or at least, I was willing to consider whether or not it was fully justified. But that was hard – just thinking about Rocky made me more aggravated. I couldn’t seem to clear the feelings away long enough to judge anything objectively.

I heard a noise inside the house, and glanced up to see Blackie in the kitchen. When he came outside a few minutes later to see if I wanted some more coffee, I found myself looking at him almost hungrily. I could have really used something to release the tension just then – I wouldn’t hurt him without a reason, but a blow job wouldn’t have gone amiss.

Other than Gabe, the boys still hadn’t said anything about servicing me sexually, even after Tiran’s tirade on the beach that time, and I’d never bothered to ask Tiran about it explicitly. I didn’t really want anything from his boys – like I said, I had my own regulars, and they were more versatile anyway. But I remember thinking about it with mild annoyance that morning. Was an offer too much to expect? Maybe I was just in a bad mood.

In the end I went to the gym for an earlier workout than usual. I ran a couple of recordings while I was there, of the boys serving various punishments, and that helped a little too. Once I was done, I went down to the beach and had a long swim in the crisp blue ocean.

By the time I walked back up to my little chalet, towelling off my hair and pulling on some clothes before settling down on the upstairs balcony with another cup of coffee, I was feeling a lot more relaxed. So I gave it one more try.

This time I found I could consider Rocky’s actions the night before with something like dispassion. Obviously his disrespect would have to be punished, whatever else I decided. Perhaps the defiance had not been real – had only been intended to provoke the violence that would satisfy Tiran – but did that make it any better? Who was he to decide how Tiran’s resentment should be managed? Hadn’t I made it clear that I was in charge then?

And worse - how did Rocky dare use me to further his own ends? His cavalier willingness to court my anger was still inexcusable; I was no cooler on that point.

But then I remembered the odd look he’d given me last night, when he first refused my order. There had been something in it I couldn’t read at the time. Had he been trying to communicate with me, perhaps? Could it be that he thought I understood his plan, that we were in on it together? What had he said that time – in my office, when he talked me out of leaving – something about us making a perfect team. Was that what he was thinking last night? And if it was – did it do anything to mitigate his presumption?

In the end I decided to reserve my judgment. I would listen to what he had to say, and perhaps he could persuade me to forgive the worst of his sins. I felt ready, at least, to give him a fair hearing.

But oddly, when my office hours ended, he hadn’t shown up. Some of the others did, as usual, but not Rocky. At first I was puzzled; then I realized that he must be waiting to talk to Tiran first. Or perhaps he was afraid to leave his room, or Tiran had ordered him not to leave.

It was just as well; less for me to deal with now. I went up to the house for lunch and to look around for Tiran.

I found him out by the tennis courts, watching the boys play as he often did. Tiran stood up immediately when he saw me, closing his mobile and coming over to me.

"Jackie – I was just about to go and find you." He put his hands on my hips and kissed both cheeks affectionately. "Thank you for putting up with me, darling."

I laughed a little, accepting the apology.

"I was a complete fool last night," he went on, with conviction. "Do you forgive me?"

"If you forgive me," I said, remembering how I had ordered him home at the end.

Tiran laughed, taking me by the hand and leading me over to the chairs. "You were magnificent. You did exactly what you should have. I am never – " he went on merrily, turning to Dusty, who was in the closest court, "— never taking Rochelle’s club mix again. What was she thinking?" he asked.

Dusty laughed. "I think that’s supposed to be for, you know, bdsm clubs. No wonder you were so hard to handle last night."

"Oh." Tiran paused and looked at me sheepishly. "Well, that explains it. I’m so sorry, Jack."

"That’s okay," I told him. And really, in the warm light of the afternoon sun, it didn’t seem like such a big deal after all. "No harm done. Unless that boy’s friends happen to be well-connected."

"I already sent over an apology and a little gift," Tiran said, motioning for Rusty to bring me a drink. "Paul knew who they were."

I had to admire Tiran; however spoiled he might be, he did clean up his own messes. I guess he had lots of practice.

"One of these days … " I said, shaking my head a little. "You’re going to get yourself into trouble you can’t charm your way out of, Ti. Then you’ll get what you actually deserve."

Tiran wasn’t bothered by that prospect at all. "’I always deserve the best treatment,’" he said blithely, "because I never put up with any other.’"*

We settled down to watch the boys play, chatting about the night before and other adventures. Dusty was playing Adele, and Rusty was on duty. Pat came by after a while, to take over the next shift, and the afternoon wore on. There was no sign of Rocky.

And then, as we sat languidly by the tennis courts in the lengthening shadows, Tiran glanced at me and asked casually, "Have you spoken to Rocky yet?"

"No," I answered shortly, feeling vaguely disquieted. "It’s you he should be talking to."

Tiran smiled amusedly. "He really does do his best to keep me in line. It’s just unfortunate for him that I’m so damned ungrateful."

I laughed at that. Tiran definitely hadn’t seemed too appreciative last night. "Is he keeping out of your way today? Hiding in fear?"

Tiran shook his head. "No, no," he said, unexpectedly. "I went to see him first thing this morning. We’re good."

I started to nod, then stopped in surprise and frowned a little. Wait a minute. If Tiran and Rocky had made up so early, what had prevented Rocky from coming to see me during my office hours?

"He just needs to settle up with you, now, Jackie," Tiran added, and it sounded like an invitation.

But how was I supposed to settle with Rocky, when he hadn’t come to talk to me? I’d done my work that morning; I’d thought things over and was willing to hear him out. I was prepared for him to approach me, like he had every single other time there had been any hint of trouble. He was the one who apparently wasn’t interested.

Tiran lay back in his sun chair, shutting his eyes peacefully. "Then everything will be back to normal," he said serenely.

I think that’s when I started to realize that normal may have changed for good.


**********


It was a day later now, and my office hours had just ended. Still no sign of Rocky. I hadn’t seen him since that night in the club.

Enough waiting. Whatever else was going on, he owed me for his disobedience, and it was time for him to pay. I messaged him from my office, ordering him to meet me in my dungeon in ten minutes. Then I walked over myself to prepare.

After a few minutes I heard slow footsteps on the path outside. I recognized the tread. The footsteps grew more hesitant as they drew nearer and I waited for the door to open, wondering what I would see.

Rocky came inside slowly, as though hardly daring to face me. Seeing me inside already, he blanched and dropped his eyes as they met my cool gaze. He visibly had to force himself to continue across the room toward me.

I stood by the opposite wall, waiting, my arms crossed in front of my chest, watching him expressionlessly.** Rocky tried to walk over to me but I saw his legs buckle, and he dropped to his knees and crawled the last few feet. When he reached me he dropped his forehead to the ground as usual, and I saw he was trembling. He still hadn’t been able to meet my eyes.

I surveyed him without speaking, waiting to see what he’d do. He didn’t last long.

"Mr. Obernikoch," he whispered, not looking up.

I waited some more, faintly curious but not about to help him out.

I saw the strain in Rocky’s muscles as he tried to lift his head and meet my eyes, but it didn’t work; he couldn’t look at me. "I … I don’t know what to apologize for first," he said tremulously.

There was a pause. I hadn’t intended to say anything, but that was unbelievable. "Refusing a direct order would be a good place to start," I said icily.

Rocky flinched on the ground, as if I’d hit him. "Sir – " he said, his voice catching. "You must know I would never – I only did that … I thought … "

He stopped, and I leaned against the wall, still waiting. After a pause he started again, his voice low. "I’m sorry, sir. I beg your forgiveness. I – I misunderstood."

Misunderstood. I almost laughed. "You understood you could pick a fight with me when it was convenient and then make it up at your leisure?"

Rocky seemed to freeze for a moment, and then he tried to shake his head, still keeping it lowered. "No, sir," he said miserably. "I didn’t think that. I … I thought you – I thought we were … working together."

I nodded slowly, knowing he couldn’t see me. As I had suspected, he’d thought we had an unspoken agreement that night. It’s strange; if we’d had this conversation yesterday – if he’d shown up during my office hours– we probably could have worked it out. Now, it seemed like everything he told me was academic. Irrelevant.

"If that’s what you thought," I asked, detached but curious, "Why didn’t you come and see me yesterday to talk about it?"

There was another pause, and I waited. But Rocky didn’t answer. I watched him for a moment, still getting no response.

He had nothing for me. I pushed myself away from the wall and walked to my implement cupboard. "Get on the bench," I said over my shoulder.

I had already decided which tool to use, and how many strokes to give him, so I paused at the cupboard only to give him time to get into position. When the sound of movement stopped I turned back and went over to the bench where he lay waiting, ready.

I punished him exactly as he deserved for defying my order that night. No more, no less, and not for anything else. I delivered the strokes mechanically, at a measured pace, and had him count them out. It was an entirely professional transaction.

Finished, I only needed a moment to catch my breath, while Rocky lay over the bench, shaking slightly. I went to the cupboard to replace the whip, then came back and unsnapped the wrist cuffs.

"Get down," I ordered, and stood back, waiting to see that he made it safely.

Rocky pushed himself off the bench weakly and dropped to his knees, as though waiting for further orders. But I had nothing else to say to him.

"We’re done," I said, and walked to the door.

I was almost through it when he called after me. "Mr. Obernikoch … !"

He sounded anguished, despairing. I paused at the door, not looking back.

"I was afraid," he said, his voice low but clear. "You were so angry, that night. I could see how I – I misjudged – I fucked up. I knew I should come and see you as soon as I could but I … I lost my – I was too afraid. I’m so sorry."

I stood still for a moment, listening. Then I half-turned, back towards him. "Afraid?" I asked. "Afraid of what?" Rocky has never feared my punishment.

He tried to look up at me. "Of – of the damage I did," he said slowly. "I … was afraid I might have lost everything we had."

I turned away again. "We had nothing," I said curtly. And I left.


**********


He kept trying. I had to give him credit for that; he tried, relentlessly, for weeks afterward.

He showed up during my next office hours, to start with. He was waiting in the ante-room when I arrived. I shouldn’t have been surprised, I guess, but I wasn’t expecting it. To be honest, I thought I’d been clear and he understood me; I didn’t expect him to keep trying.

There were a couple of other people there already that morning so I took them in first and ignored Rocky until right at the end. Finally, when everyone else was gone and he was still waiting, kneeling on the ante-room floor, I stood in my office doorway and looked at him. "Well?" I said impassively.

He jumped a little. "I hoped I could speak to you, sir," he said nervously.

"Go ahead," I answered, not moving.

He stole a glance at me, hesitating. Did he really expect to be invited in? "I … I’m not sure if I … was clear enough about how sorry I am for – for everything I did. Sir."

I think I sighed a little. "It doesn’t matter now," I explained patiently. "It’s irrelevant."

I could see him bite his lip. "It’s not – to me," he whispered.

My expression didn’t change. "Also irrelevant."

He looked up, and I saw him trying to reach inside me, to find something he could use to pull me back. "Can’t you … couldn’t you let me know what I can do to earn your forgiveness?"

I shook my head. "You took your punishment. That’s all there is."

Rocky’s eyes seemed to grow darker, as though the helplessness and sorrow were pooling there. "Please … " he began faintly.

I cut him off. "Don’t show up during my office hours again unless you have something specific to discuss," I said. "That’s an order. Dismissed."

I knew he wouldn’t dare defy a direct order again, and he didn’t; he only paused long enough to kiss the ground in front of my feet before leaving.

That took care of office hours, though of course I still had to work with him. At meetings, I dealt with whatever was on Tiran’s list and added a few of my own items if I saw something egregious through the week. Most weeks I assigned Rocky some kind of penalty, but I didn’t use corporal punishment anymore, and I stopped disciplining him in public unless it was really necessary. Rather than supervise his punishments in person, I recorded his sessions and did the occasional spot check. I tried to meet my commitment to provide training as well as discipline, bearing in mind what Tiran needed from Rocky, while keeping an unbreachable professional distance.

He still came to my place regularly for housekeeping and other chores. At first I was tempted to cut those out, but after a little thought I decided it would be better to let them continue. I wasn’t leaving, after all. It was just time to establish some boundaries.

I’d always known I could shut Rocky down if I wanted to, and now I did. I set the tone by cutting out all conversation that wasn’t necessary; no more questions or idle comments from me. I gave him my instructions and my orders and that was it. When he tried to make conversation, I ignored him.

It did take a while; like I said, he was relentless. I think he believed at first he could wait me out, or maybe even start from scratch again. He’d make a little foray every couple of days, giving me a searching glance and a shy smile, or volunteering some light comment. But I was implacable. I met each of his attempts with the same vacant response, and a couple of times when he pushed too far, I gave him a couple of taps to show I was serious.***

For good measure, I also forbade him to speak to me in public unless there was a clear need for it. That included any offer to attend to my needs; I told him it was not his place to serve me unless I ordered him to.

"Whose place is it, then, sir?" he asked me unexpectedly.

I was irritated at being questioned. "What do you mean?" I asked sharply.

"Who will look after you, if I’m not allowed to?" he said gravely. "You shouldn’t have to … fend for yourself, sir."

"I’m a grown man," I told him brusquely. "And I’m not Tiran. That’s enough from you."

He looked at me sadly, but stopped arguing. I did notice that some of the others – Gabe, Blackie – started to become more attentive to me after that. Which just told me that Rocky still hadn’t fully grasped what I was telling him.

You will say I was cruel, ruthless; that I made Rocky pay too high a price for his human weakness. And in truth I was angry, perhaps even hurt, at first. But that wasn’t entirely what was motivating my changes.

The incident had forced me to reconsider the way I had allowed Rocky into my life. I realized I’d let him define the terms of our interaction for too long. It made sense when I first arrived; back then, I wanted to sit back and watch for a while, to gather information and learn more about the new environment I was in. Rocky had used his unassuming, persistent humility to gain a foothold while I was still finding my way, and then he made it too easy, too tempting, for me to resist his steady, incremental advances.

But that couldn’t go on forever. It was time for me to take stock, to look at where I was and make some conscious choices. Unlike Tiran, I had some self-discipline, and I didn’t need Rocky to manage me. I had let myself be led for too long, and now it was time for me to take charge.

The change in direction was a little like trying to turn one of those huge cruise ships around in the ocean – slow, cumbersome, awkward, requiring broad manoeuvres rather than subtle adjustments. But however long it takes, an ocean liner will always make the return trip, just like I knew Rocky would eventually adjust to a more appropriate position.


***********


And in the end he did seem to give up. He stopped the little incursions, the attempts to make conversation or offer extra service, to soften the space between us. I didn’t even see signs of him working in the background, trying to fix things, as he so often did. Maybe he had finally accepted that I was the one in control now.

I guess Tiran also realized something was different. I noticed that the changes Rocky made in his behaviour to accommodate me were pervasive – he was no longer quite as outgoing and playful with Tiran and the others; he seemed quieter, more reserved these days. Tiran never said anything to me explicitly, but he checked in with me a couple of times, asking if everything was all right or if I needed his help with anything. I saw the concern in his eyes when he looked at me so I did my best to show him everything was fine.

And it was, more or less. Over time, the feelings of anger and betrayal gradually ebbed away – pacified, maybe, by Rocky’s final submission to my will. Once I’d clearly won the battle I did grow a bit more comfortable with him again. It seemed a little ironic that the more he stopped trying to pull me back, the less I resisted him. In a way, I was proud of Rocky – it was almost as though, by giving up the round, he moved closer to winning the match.


--------------------
*Emma, Jane Austen. Tiran has always struck me as the male Emma Woodhouse: "handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition…"
**"Armand was waiting for me … his crossed arms … solid and muscular, forming a heavy coil of dark flesh … " – Jean Genet, The Thief’s Journal
***Genet, The Thief’s Journal again


Next chapter: A new normal