Indiscreet Box Set

Chapter 13

They went up the curved staircase to the second floor. Brian saw that there were three wings to the house, added on over the years. The first two ran to either side of the curved steps. The third ran perpendicular to the steps forming a T layout. Bear said, “The right wing is the master wing and no one has ever occupied that side of the house but me. Even Antonio had roomed in the back guest wing. However, I need you close, baby.”

The words heartened Brian even as they chipped away at his resolve not to involve Bear any further in his troubles. Bear turned right and moved all the way down the hall to one of two doors at the end of the corridor. The first looked to Brian to be the entrance to the Master’s suite. The second door was the entrance to the adjoining suite. The two suites shared a bath and a sitting room. Brian’s mind roiled with the implications of his location. He settled into a fan chair, which sat in front of a green marble fascia covering a hand-bricked firebox.

His face crinkled with frustration. Brian opened his mouth as if to speak, but Bear put one of his fingers on Brian’s lips indicating he desired silence.

“First, let me have my say. After, I promise I will listen to you,” Bear said. “Let me assure you, Brian, I am well aware I thrust you into these untenable circumstances. I arranged for your membership at Indiscreet without consulting you first. It was a serious blunder. What we didn’t discuss at lunch was the conditions of employment. I thought I could ease you into it, but due to my own stupidity, I must play my hand before I intended.”

Brian looked at Bear.

I know what I want to hear, but I can’t let myself hope. I feel like a flower to his sun.

Brian shook his head.

I have to clear my head before I make an ass out of myself. Damn, I have to let him know how I feel. If I don’t do it now, I never will.

Brian folded his hands in his lap, left his knees apart. He flowed naturally into a sub’s stance, whether kneeling, sitting, or standing. Brian was well trained, possessed a strong will, and had the flexibility required to maintain a disciplined posture. As his eyes met Bear’s, he could feel that Bear noticed his pose.

“As I said, I need a twenty-four-seven assistant. In my business, I’m on call at any hour of the day or night. I need someone who can handle whatever I throw at them whenever it arrives. I think you could be that person, Brian. Would you be willing to give it a try?”

Just as I thought, I am a flaming fool.

Brian looked up into Bear Drummond’s eyes and it did nothing to calm his raging hard on. He was afraid in about five seconds flat, he would throw himself at Donald K. Drummond’s well-shod feet and beg to be f****d senseless. As desperate as he was to run headlong into his Master’s arms, Brian knew he couldn’t.

Circumstances had changed only for the night. Tomorrow he would still have obligations with which he wouldn’t burden the man he loved.

“About the clothing, Mr. Drummond, I’m grateful you brought me something to wear home. However, I am going to have to ask you to take the cost out of my salary. Of course, I will accept the job under whatever terms you choose.”

There, I have done it, committed myself to a lifetime of watching what I want but can never have. My damn eyes are beginning to tear up again. If I shut them tightly, maybe they won’t leak.

He studied Bear closely, as if to memorize this moment to take out in the future when he was alone again. Although his own stuff was bargain basement, Brian knew good quality when he saw it. From where he was standing, everything that touched Bear was the best, not the most expensive, but the best. The trousers encasing his well-muscled ass were made of the finest cotton and linen weave. A man with body hair needed natural fabrics to wick moisture away from the body. The golf shirt was not ostentatious, but it was well made. The shoes shone with fresh polish and the belt matched, unlike his own usual sorry state of dress.

I don’t think I have ever had such expensive and well-made clothing on my body, until this morning.

Bear had showered, shaved, and changed his clothing before waking Brian.

Brian felt like a grubby street urchin posing in the prince’s clothing. He was aware of his nerdy image. At least it let him save some face. It was better they thought he didn’t care about his clothing than know he could not afford any. Even so, he always kept whatever clothing he had meticulously clean. He was ashamed to have appeared in front Bear the way he looked last night. He was so ashamed that he just could not accept the gift in good grace. The silence between them seemed to stretch. Bear was waiting for some kind of response. Brian felt torn in two.

I have already said I would work for him, what is he waiting for?

A loud knock sounded on the door to the sitting room. A whirling dervish charged in and Brian found himself locked in the enthusiastic embrace of a short, round woman of Italian descent whom he remembered vaguely as Mrs. Santore. She couldn’t have been more than four-feet-eleven inches with her rounded physique, clad in a white apron. She reminded Brian of every Italian grandma he ever encountered. That observation held true when she started to natter about fattening him up.

He had not noticed much about her earlier, because he was too groggy from the Percocet.

However, she made it clear now she was welcoming him warmly. Brian automatically turned to Bear, searching for a clue as to how he wished him to behave.

Brian was a bit lost. He was still attempting to calm his raging libido when he caught her last remark, something about his room being ready. Brian’s mind reeled.

She knew I was coming.

Mrs. Santore had expected his arrival and had prepared a room. He looked sideways at his boss, just in time to see Donald’s eyes slide away.

Could it be Donald finds me as attractive as I find him? God, I hope so. Oh man, I am so f****d up, I don’t know what I want. Not true, I know what I want, I don’t know what I can have. And God help me; I’m beginning to believe in miracles. Brian’s brain was beginning to work.

It was Donald Drummond who arranged his invitation to the club, it was Donald who came to his rescue last night. Maybe he cares, at least a little.

Bear gave every indication of a man short on patience. Mrs. Santore pretended not to notice. “Mrs. Santore…” He attempted to give her his instructions as soon as she entered the room. As usual, she had gone her own way. Something about wiping your naked ass as a kid had morphed Maria Santore into a bizarre hybrid of housekeeper and nanny. He wouldn’t change anything about her, but there were times when the relationship pinched a bit.

“Si, Mr. Donald. I’ll show him over to his room, no?”

“I’ll take care of it for now, Mrs. Santore. As I told you, this will be his room.”

“Not where Mr. Antonio slept?”

Bear ground his teeth. “No Maria, here.”

“Ah, I see, you have to watch for his head, so his room is next to yours, si?”

“Yes, Maria,” Donald answered, mentally wishing her to perdition.

“You do know, Donald, this boy needs to eat. I have prepared a cold lunch, lobsters on ice with eggs, tomatoes, basil, and capers, Astaco freddo all’italiana. We have some fresh baked bread, and I could boil up some pasta with a light sauce, this one,” she poked Brian in the side, “he could use some more meat.”

Bear saw Brian grimace and knew Maria had hit one of the cracked ribs.

“Whatever you think is best, Mrs. Santore.” Having solicited the exact answer for which she angled, she left the room faster than a cat with a stolen can of tuna.

“Your room is through this door,” Donald indicated. “Follow me.”

* * * *

Donald carefully led Brian through the connecting door to the suite just right of the sitting room. Donald had watched Brian with covert glances throughout their short conversation. He was hard as a steel girder and leaking like a faucet. He made up his mind that Brian would be in his bed before the weekend was out.

A pair of soft leather Club Chairs flanked the open hearth in this suite. The décor was masculine, a discretely understated mixture of early colonial and traditional made the area welcoming.

Bear could see Brian relax. He was more comfortable here than in the rather foreboding elegance of the office. When Bear first had the room furnished, he left some areas of the room bare. He wanted his lover to feel at home in this space and Bear knew it helped if he could put some of his own possessions about him.

Continuing the conversation he began, Bear asked, “You said your mother was with your aunt in Allentown? Have you some idea of what is making your mother miserable?” Bear probed in a gentle, but firm manner Brian could not refuse.

Brian got up and paced the carpet, despite his ribs. “Mom doesn’t complain, but Aunt Mary always was mean-spirited. I don’t think she takes proper care of Mom, for all the money I send her. Mom is not dressed right and has very few of the things I ask my Aunt to get her.”

“Have you asked your mother about it?” Donald inserted.

“Yes, and she claims she doesn’t need anything new.

Nevertheless, Aunt Mary is always dressed well, and I have noticed several large purchases since Mom went to stay with her.

It’s not that I begrudge Mary the money. I just want her to do what I pay her to do.” Brian’s voice tightened in frustration.

“Sit, Brian,” Donald commanded when it appeared Brian would pace until he fell face down into the carpet.

“Have you called her on it?” Donald was pushing at this point, attempting to gain information by keeping a rhythmic beat, question, answer, question, answer.

“Yes and no. I made mention of it in the beginning, and then Mary hit me up for more money. When I asked again, she whined that what I gave her was a pittance, and if she was to clothe Mom properly, she needed more.”

“You discerned a veiled threat?” Donald asked.

“I didn’t think it was all that veiled. Mary does not have the brains for subtlety. I realized if I continued to push, Mom would be on the street. I had to work to put together the money to place her in a decent facility. If Mary threw her out, I would be forced into accepting a Social Services placement. I have seen some of those places. They are horrible. I stopped pushing back and just hung in there, pulling the money together as fast as I could. My choices were limited.”

Donald turned to Brian. He noticed the black circles under those big blue eyes. “Why don’t you call this aunt of yours and tell her we’ll be there tomorrow to pick up your mother?”

Donald smiled as Brian’s mouth opened and his jaw just hung.

How he wanted that beautiful mouth wrapped around his fat prick. He was going to die of blue balls if he didn’t have him soon.

“Err, Sir, you said pick up my mother. I’ll have to tell her why, eh, why we’re going to pick her up.”

“Mrs. Santore has a sister in Hamilton, who is seeking work as a companion. There is another house on this property. With an orderly, nurse, and a companion, your mother should be comfortable.”

What his mother needed was a jailor and Bear wondered if part of Brian’s problem was that Aunt Mary knew that and he didn’t.

Aloud he said, “I want your complete attention to your work, and I will not have it if you are in a constant state of worry over your mother’s health. When you get the money together, Human Resources can help you find Mom a proper fit.”

“Do you mean Mom can stay on the property here with you?”

“And with you…just remember our agreement about you being available 24/7?”

The look of joy on Brian’s face was one that Bear in Drummond wanted to see for all of his tomorrows. His boy looked as if Donald had taken a three-ton weight off his shoulders. The full, blush pink lower lip on Brian’s mouth began to quiver.

“With us, Brian, she is going to stay with us.”

“I’ll pay you back, Sir, every dime. I’ll work for free…”

Mr. Donald K. Drummond, who, up to this point, approached his wooing with the determination of a general mounting a winter campaign, turned into a passionate lover, determined to claim his own. Every second of the last twenty-four hours had been leading to this, his need of this boy. The sight of Brian in his home, lip quivering in gratitude, and the heat of anticipation sent Bear over the edge.

Before Brian had a chance to move, Bear swept him up in his arms and carried him over to the bed. He laid Brian on the soft cotton duvet while raining kisses over his face. He took his time removing Brian’s shirt and Donald’s fingers stroked the newly exposed skin around Brian’s neck and jaw. Running his hands without trouble down the lean form, Donald removed his shoes, followed by his jeans and the new shirt, leaving Brian in his holey white briefs.

Donald was not alone in his need. Brian trembled as if a puppy released from its cage. Even so, the boy seemed to know the rules and lay still, waiting for Bear to give him permission to touch. The length of his boy’s nearly naked body lay supine on the mattress, begging for Bear’s possession. The kid was shaking with need. A wet spot appeared on the surface of his white briefs.

Bear fought the compulsion to throw Brian down and sink his prick into the boy’s mouth and then into his sweet, sweet puckered hole. Bear pulled back before he took full possession.

“Don’t you want me?” Brian asked.

“I want you too damn much,” Donald answered. “We need to talk, but not right now.” Donald sighed and stripped off his clothing, leaving on a pair of green silk boxers. “Understand this, boy. If I take you, you are mine. I will never let you go.

Before this happens, we need to discuss terms. You are familiar with b**m play.”

“Yes, Sir,” Brian answered.

“Then know this. I am a b**m Master Dom. I teach others how to be Doms. I am strict. If you are mine, you will obey without question every order I give to you, whether it is to suck my c**k in public or lick my boots. In my world, I would own you, body and soul. I would never share you, and should another man touch what is mine, you would find yourself out on the street.”

“I want you, Sir. I will do anything you ask to become yours.

Please let me try. Let me show you how I can please you. I would give you anything you asked. Please, just take me.”

“No, boy, you need time to decide. We will take care of your mom and spend time together while you recover. We’ll sleep together and I’ll hold you. However, no penetrative s*x until a contract is signed.”

“A real contract, with a collar?” Brian asked shyly.

“Yes, baby, a collar and everything that goes with it.”

Bear pulled back the duvet from the other side of the king sized-bed, taking Brian with him. He covered Brian and himself, pulling his boy into his arms for the very first time. His c**k could hammer nails, but he didn’t want s*x. This time, he needed to give his Brian what he needed most, the protection of his arms.

“I love you, Sir,” the boy babbled just as his eyes closed in peace for the first time in years. The boy was asleep almost before his eyes closed.

Bear lay in the darkened room holding Brian close to his chest, running his fingers through the long platinum hair free from its leather tie. The cub loved to snuggle. His face turned into Bear’s bare chest. He rubbed his face into Bear’s furred front as he slept.

Once Bear was sure he was asleep, he slowly moved away until he could get out of bed without disturbing Brian. Bear had some thinking to do. Thinking would be easier in the study away from Brian who could sway him from any purpose by just being alive and within reach. Bear swung his legs over the bed, giving the boy a wide berth. He dressed quickly in his discarded clothing. Bear tenderly kissed Brian on the forehead and crossed the hall to the stairs…at the end of the staircase stood Mrs. Santore.

“Is the little one ready to eat yet?” she asked.

“No, Mama Santore. He is asleep and I think he needs it about as much as he needs food. He has not had much deep sleep. Leave him, I’ll make sure he eats later.” Bear headed for his study when he had another thought.

“How late are the stores open this evening?”

“Which stores, Donnie?”

Bear grit his teeth. He knew she was deliberately baiting him, but this time he was not going to bite. “The good clothing stores at the mall. I know I can’t get to Brooks Brothers now, but are Macy’s and Nordstrom open?”

“Quakerbridge Mall is open until at least eleven thirty. It is Back—”

“To School,” Bear finished her sentence. “Reed told me last night.”

“Now, what do you need at the mall? I will send Pop or Joseph. Just make sure you get the sizes right. I’ll call the Personal Shopper you use occasionally, and we will fix him right up.”

“Mama, I seriously think you sometimes read minds. How did you know I wanted clothing for Brian?”

“Donald, you may not be the son of my body, but you are a son of my heart. I know you, just as I know all of my sons. I unpacked the pathetic box of his belongings you brought back. I knew you would not let him continue to dress in those clothes. I examined every piece of clothing he owns. He painstakingly darned every stitch at least four times over. His linens are almost transparent from frequent laundering. His four shirts and two slacks are second-hand from the flea market or a garage sale. The clothes need burning, Donald. Otherwise, he might be tempted not to take what you give him. If he is going to be with you, you will dress him well. I will retrieve the box and the shoes, get sizes and send Joseph out for the basics. When he is better, you can take him out yourself and outfit him as you deem fit.”

“I think he liked what I bought last night with Reed. Tell Pop and Joseph to take Sal Junior. He is Brian’s age and dresses in a manner that Brian might like.”

“No Bear, listen to Mama. Sal is more Urban Outfitters, they dress like those Goth types, black and leather. No, your boy is more Abercrombie and Fitch.”

“Mama, that’s where Reed took me last night, semi-conservative hip, he called it. I’ll dress him in high-end leather for the club or just a tunic. However, at home, he should be comfortable. Tell Pop and Joseph to get the shopper and tell her what you told me. Thank you, Mama. Thank Joseph also. I’ll make sure there is something extra in his pay check this week.”

“No, Donnie, you won’t. He does little enough to earn what you pay him. This time, he will do for you as a brother should.”

Mama turned and left the room.

Donald shook his head. There was no arguing with Mama Santore once her mind was set. Most of the time, she was more respectful of his position as her employer than the varied housekeepers employed by country club business associates were to their employers.

However, every once in a while, she let him know she had helped raise him, and it was time for him to back down. This was definitely one of those times. It seemed his boy had made another conquest.

Bear turned and entered his study. He needed some time to think of what to do next. He poured himself a brandy and sat in the fan chair by the fireplace. Late summer bloom filled the hearth, but it would not be long before the chimney cleaners came to prepare the hearth and stack the wood for the cool autumn nights ahead.

He imagined the boy sitting beside him on the floor with his blond head in Bear’s lap. Bear would read aloud, maybe the newspaper or some classic action adventure from Dumas or Swift. Brian would hold his own in a discussion of the deeper political satires behind the stories Bear enjoyed. They would doze by the fire and Bear would wake with the urgent need to possess his boy. With no preliminaries, Bear would take his Brian right on the rug in front of the hearth, his c**k so deeply embedded in Brian that his balls slapped the boy’s ass. Brian would scream for him, beg him to go faster, deeper, harder, and then his boy would come so hard his seed would travel halfway across the room. All this, while shouting how much he loved his Master. The fantasy made Bear so hot, it was difficult for him not to run back upstairs and make it real at this very moment.

It was then Bear realized he had to possess Brian tonight. He couldn’t wait to be smart, and damn the consequences. He began his preparations.

* * * *

The low hum of an alarm woke Brian. He glanced at the clock. It was just after ten. He found a note on the pillow, written on an ecru note card. He knew the design. It came from the Cranes’ catalogue. At the top was “Donald K. Drummond” in fancy script. Although the paper carried his name, Brian thought the Boss he was coming to know was not the one who chose the fancy script. Everything he had seen, from the decor of the Trenton office to the lush accommodation of this home on the Delaware, screamed fine, but restrained. Bear would have chosen a monogrammed card.

Brian looked around at what he supposed was his room. The bed was king sized and the mattress one of the most comfortable he had ever tested, not that he had tested many. For all of his age and his determined stand in defense of his s****l orientation, Brian’s past held just one ex-lover, his college roommate, Alan.

All of the rest of his s****l play had occurred at the club.

The Dom would get off on the whipping, and he would get off in the shower later. He knew if he was honest with himself, pain was not his overriding aphrodisiac. It was control, giving over control and submitting to a physically superior, dominant, raw, alpha male. Donald K. Drummond fit him to a tee.

His body still ached from its ill-use at the hands of Ms. James’ boys. He examined his torso. The bruises were ugly, but he felt better having rested. He’d slept in peace for the first time since childhood. Brian knew why. He had fallen asleep in the arms of the man to whom he was destined to belong. The man he loved more with each subsequent beat of his heart.

A crystal decanter of iced water sat on the bed stand, with a stemmed goblet beside a polished brass lamp with an intricate design. He took a sip of water, and then read the note.

Brian,

If you are willing, your employment begins this eve.

However, I think you know we have ventured farther than employment here. You know what I am and are familiar with the lifestyle. If you are interested in a less conventional relationship, please demonstrate your intentions. You will find clothing on the first leather chair. There is an en-suite bath attached to your room stocked with appropriate toiletries. Please use them as instructed and put on your new clothing.

What I request is not onerous, so please do what I ask exactly as written. I am obsessive regarding obedience and if, as my submissive, you do not comply with my directives, our relationship is doomed to failure.

You must trust my judgment and follow my orders at all times. Should we come to an agreement about the future, you will find me to be reasonable and willing to listen. For tonight, this first time, you must do exactly as I tell you.

I mean to begin as I intend to go on, so there will be no illusions between us. I will meet you in the library.

If you choose not to pursue the more intimate relationship, put on your regular clothing and we will have dinner and discuss your employment in IT. Please believe me, if you choose not to become lovers, your job is still secure as is my offer for a place to stay for you and your mother.

Bear

The tone of the note made Brian shiver with repressed desire. His sleep-befogged brain remembered the gentle touch of Donald’s strong hands up and down his spine. He shook his head. Brian prided himself on always facing facts, and the plain fact was he was in love with Donald K. Drummond. His heart would have no other. No one else had touched his soul in the way this man did. If Donald asked, he would cut out his heart and hand it to him. Brian giggled. Now that was a bit over the top, more Jim Boy than Brian. He found the love of his life in twenty-four short hours, and now he had to figure out how to keep him and assuage his own conscience in the process.

He looked about. The rich blue motif of the room soothed his senses. The high ceilings and carved moldings contributed more to the decor than the patterns and papers. Brian believed the planked floors were part of the original construction. The bed had a headboard of antique burl. The room held a matching dresser and highboy. He spotted the two leather club chairs at the bottom of the bed. True to Bear’s word, the clothing was there waiting for him to dress.

Brian drifted down to the chair to examine what Donald chose. Weather on a late summer’s evening in New Jersey was always a triple threat: hazy, hot, and humid. On the chair was a pair of soft linen slacks in a warm cream with a drawstring and matching tunic of plain white gauze with wide sleeves.

Next to the chair on the floor was a pair of tatami sandals with a velvet thong of navy blue. On the hem of the tunic, Brian found a pattern of Celtic Knots embroidered in silver and navy.

The edge also faced the neckline, and its frontal V cut allowed a glimpse of Brian’s smooth, hairless chest. Under the slacks and tunic was a silver c**k ring. Its presence sent Brian’s hopes into the stratosphere. There were no undergarments on the chair. He was going to go commando.

He left the clothing on the chair and made certain to straighten his bedding, fluffing the pillows. He left everything as it had been before he slept. He did not see his kit bag or the small cardboard box containing his possessions, so he went into the bath with faith Donald had provided everything he would need.

A second note rested on the vanity shelf along with the shaving supplies and toiletries. On shelves next to the pedestal sink, which Brian was sure was an antique, were the items he was to use laid out in no particular order.

First, there was a series of razors and two pairs of scissors.

Bear’s note instructed Brian to use the first three for his pubic area and the fourth for his facial hair. Along with the blades was an old-fashioned barber’s brush with what appeared to be sable bristles. A cedar cup contained an über shaving soap from a London men’s shop. The discreet label on both the shampoo and conditioner told Brian they were from the same merchant. Three disposable enemas stood shoulder to shoulder. Four deep-piled towels were stacked beside a natural sponge. A stiff nailbrush, a soft buffer, and an emery board rested on the sink.

Although the enema was uncomfortable, Brian took it as an excellent portent for the evening to come. He used all three until the water ran clear. He used the larger of the two scissors to trim excess pubic hair, making it easier to shave. He used three of the disposable razors to rid himself of any hint of stubble.

The last razor was for his face and not a disposable, more a work of art. It was custom-made, obtained from London. When it came to shaving his face, he remembered the instructions given in a popular men’s magazine to insure a perfect shave and followed them to the letter. He avoided looking in the mirror other than to use it as an aid to shave, although he did notice the bruising and swelling had somewhat subsided. His face was still multi-colored.

Brian thought, “The one time in my life when I want to look my absolute best, and here I am sporting black eyes and bruised cheeks.” Brian rinsed the shaving brush and the razor, dried them with care, and placed them back in the case.

He moved into the shower. Brian was on fire with the notion of what could happen later in the evening. He considered stroking off, but decided anything not written down in either note was unacceptable. It was best to err on the side of caution.

He lathered up and soaped his entire body, and repeated the procedure until he felt squeaky-clean.

Pouring a dollop of shampoo into his hand, he lathered his wavy hair, digging his fingers into his scalp. This was the first shower he had taken at leisure since he left school. He took the wide-toothed, wooden comb he found on the built-in shower seat and worked the conditioner through his curls, waited two minutes, and rinsed. The water cascaded down his lean, but muscular, back. He found two thick terrycloth towels on a portable towel warmer right outside the shower. He wrapped his head in one, his torso in a second. Standing next to the sink, he scrubbed his nails until no trace of ink remained. He trimmed where necessary with the nail scissors and buffed them to a pale sheen.

Removing the towel from his head, he rubbed his curls until they were damp, but no longer wet. He used the second towel and dried his body. Brian took extra care to pick up after himself, leaving the bathroom, with the single exception of the towels and razors, in the exact condition he found it. The towels he placed over the heated rack to dry. He recapped the razors with their safety guards and returned them to their original packaging.

He put it in the trash, the packaging would protect anyone who emptied the wastebasket from a razor cut. He used the blow dryer to take away the dampness from his hair, but did not attempt to blow out the curls. He left it loose around his shoulders.

Padding back into the room, he gave his c**k a few quick strokes and donned the ring. He pulled on the soft pants with efficiency, pulling on the hidden drawstring belt to mold them to his waist. Slipping the tunic over his head, he kicked on the sandals. He glanced in the mirror once, just to make sure he was in order. He remembered Bear had carried him into the library upon his arrival, as he recalled, meaning the library was on the first floor near the entrance.