The 'carving station' consisted of a well-lit table where tiny designs were etched in the top layer of the flesh, with either the tips of large Japanese sushi knives or little scalpels, depending on the submissive's preference.
The 'weaving station' masters used skin staples, piercing needles or sutured rings to hold colorful and elaborate lace work and ribbons to the backs and chests of the recipients, and the 'piercing station' provided piercing and jewelry insertion for any imaginable body part.
Spanking benches, St. Andrew's crosses, whipping poles and stockades were filled to capacity and attracting the attention of those interested in learning new techniques—or just wishing to enjoy the bottom's delightful suffering. Tables cleared of dishes were used for every purpose the hedonistic mind could invent. The Cirque de Sade had indeed become a celebration of human pleasure and debauchery. It was glorious!
Chapter Eleven
"Shhh, she's asleep," Merry held her finger to her lips when Dorian came into their room that evening. "Where have you been? It's three in the morning."
"Just talking with the clients in the bar. We've got some pretty incredible people in our program."
"I know."
"Why did you bring her back here? Playing mommy already?"
Merry smiled at the girl who was curled up under a blanket on their couch. "She had a bit of a post-party break down and a little too much to drink. She's been planning this surprise for you for six months, and then you pop the question that she's been wanting to ask of us for years. In addition to that, the public acknowledgment of her work floored her. She is so used to working behind the scenes that it took her by surprise in the best way possible. It was all just a little overwhelming for the poor child."
"She deserved the acknowledgment. I've never seen anything so magnificent. Except for you naked."
"Did watching all those people having sex turn you on?"
"Of course. You know I enjoy watching just as much as participating. But right now, I just want to feel your bare skin against mine."
"And what are you going to do with my bare skin against yours?" Merry asked seductively, sliding under the covers next to him.
He pressed his groin against her bottom. "You know exactly what I'm going to do. Sleep. Good night, Mistress Meredith." He yawned.
"Good night, Grampa Graye. Ow! No pinching."
***
Merry and Marilyn were gone from the room by the time Dorian rose from his bed. He stretched slowly and allowed the events from the previous day to replay in his head.
He had come so far from that moment in which he'd taken the first step in the field of training domestics. He had always been fascinated by the world of BDSM, but things like that were never spoken aloud—not until he'd met Elias in the schoolyard. That day had changed the path of all of their lives …
"Hey, you!" the huskily built boy called. "I hear you were picking on my kid sister."
Dorian turned slowly to study him. "Actually, I was telling her that I didn't appreciate her rudeness. She came up to me with no provocation and called me an arrogant prick. Not a very attractive vocabulary for a little girl."
Elias mimicked him. "Listen to you talking all good and snobby, like the other rich kids around here. You think you can lord over everyone because your daddy has money, right?"
Fifteen-year old Dorian sized up the red-headed boy who stood menacingly in front of him. They were about the same height but Elias had that extra bulk that he did not. It didn't matter, though, for Dorian knew it was not size, but self-control that would win this battle. That and the experience of competing in martial arts since the age of five.
"Not so. My father left before I was born. My mother is a maid."
That statement had taken Elias by surprise. "A maid taught you how to be all prim and proper, huh?" He laughed mockingly.
"A maid taught me the fine art of being a gentleman, standing up for what is right, and not being afraid of obstacles. No matter how ugly they are," Dorian responded, his young eyes flashing.
"Ugly? Did you just call me ugly?"
"I'm calling your attitude ugly. I'm calling your sister's disposition ugly. I have neither time nor patience for either."
Elias mimicked him again, "Listen to the little boy trying to sound like a grown-up man. Don't ever talk to my sister again!"
He had thrown a punch, missing by a yard as Dorian easily ducked. Angered, Elias threw another, and missed again. By that time, they had drawn a crowd of cheering children who had all been subject to Elias' bullying. The third punch was caught in Dorian's hand and he grabbed the other boy's wrist and slowly brought him to his knees.
"I can teach you how to win a fight," Dorian said under his breath, his eyes boring into Elias'. "I can also teach you how to control your temper so you don't get into one. Make a choice. Accept my offer or keep on looking like a fool. I don't want to have to hurt you."
"I'm not afraid of you," Elias hissed as he was pushed further down to the dirt.
Dorian twisted harder, bringing tears to the other boy. "Your eyes say differently. End this now and walk away with some pride. I'm giving you this one chance to make the right decision."
Conflict had flashed across Elias's face as he stared back at the serious-minded youth. He had met his match. "You can teach me to kick ass?"
"I can teach you to win. A fight is not necessary to do that." Dorian released Elias's wrist and held his hand out to help the boy to his feet. The crowd dispersed quickly, disappointed that the playground bully had not been beaten to a bloody pulp. "Dorian Graye." He extended his hand.
It was accepted. "Elias Dover. That's Meredith. And you're right. She does have a big mouth. I'll make sure she pays for it when we get home."
"Pay? How?" Dorian's eyes narrowed.
"She'll take a long trip across my knee and get her little ass spanked. Don't worry, I don't punch girls."
The image of the scowling red-haired girl being spanked on the bare bottom burned into Dorian's head. "Does it work?"
"With her, it's the only thing. Our folks aren't what you'd call involved. Merry doesn't think before she opens her mouth, so I'm always having to defend her."
"I can understand defending her if she is being picked on, but not if she instigates."
"Do you always talk like you're an adult?" Elias asked with a sneer.
"I don't know any other way." Dorian shrugged. "Mother was from England, and received her training from this organization called The Gentlemen's Club. She raised me with the same standards."
"How come your pop left you?"
"He was not the gentleman he claimed to be," the young Dorian said darkly.
That day was the beginning of a life-long friendship. As Dorian taught Elias the fine art of etiquette and chivalry, Elias taught Dorian the joys of domination. They balanced one another out, maturing and evolving into strong, secure young men with a cause.
"What are you going to major in?" Elias asked, as Dorian packed his bags to leave for college. He had won a full scholarship to Cambridge and had been offered room and board through lodging provided by the TGC.
"Psychology. I'm also going for my law degree. Are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah," Elias shrugged, smoothing out his camouflage utilities. He had just returned from boot camp and was home on leave. "My folks still aren't speaking to me, but I'll get over it. They took the news pretty badly."
"Being gay doesn't make you any less their son."
"Tell that to the ignorance that comes with prejudice and fear. The timing is good, though, what with my assignment to Okinawa. Did I tell you that the sensei you told me about accepted my request for training?"
"No. That's fabulous! He's hard, but knows how to bring the best out. And the worst," Dorian added with a chuckle.
"I'll be there for three years, which should give me time to learn enough to kick your ass," Elias said with a grin.
"You wish. Who will look after Meredith without us around?" Dorian frow
ned.
"Miss Merry needs to learn to look out for herself. It's part of growing up."
"She wants to go with me."
"She needs to finish school and find a place for herself," Elias said softly. "I'm gonna miss you. You've been like a brother to me."
It had been a tearful goodbye. After three years of being inseparable, the trio was split, all living in different parts of the world. Homesickness drove Dorian into a sullen place. His life consisted solely of school until the day he was approached by one of the members of The Gentlemen's Club.
"May I join you?" the older, distinguished-looking man asked.
Dorian looked up from his book in surprise. He frequently studied in the lounge, claiming the overstuffed chair next to a roaring fire, and no one had ever spoken to him.
"Um, yes. Please make yourself comfortable." The man sat across from him, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Can I help you?" Dorian asked uncomfortably.
"I've been watching you, young man. You've been here for over five months. You go to classes, study, eat and sleep. You never interact with any of the members of the club. Why?"
"My responsibility is to learn my vocation, not to entertain or be entertained."
"Life is more than words in books, young man. Without living, those words mean nothing. You miss home, don't you? A young lady, perhaps?"
"I'm here for a reason. How I feel is irrelevant."
The scrutinizing look on the man's face made Dorian look away.
"No, boy, look at me. Never break eye contact. What's your name?"
"Dorian. Dorian Graye."
"Ahh, named after the colorful character who knew how to enjoy all the pleasures life had to offer, correct? Why do you deny yourself?"
"Pardon me, but who are you and what do you want with me?"
"My name is Anthony Tatum."
"Doctor Anthony Tatum?" Dorian repeated, his eyes wide. "I have one of your books in my psychology class. They say you are a world class profiler and an expert in alternative lifestyle and deviant behaviors."
"That's me. My ability to see past the obvious and into the need is both a blessing and a curse. I have a sense about you, Dorian Graye, and I trust my instincts. You are afraid to explore the darkness of your desires. Why?"
Dorian narrowed his eyes. "How could you make these assumptions? We've never met before and have spoken for less than five minutes."
"Because I watch and study. You've become an interest of mine since the day you saw the parlor maid get smacked on the bottom by one of the guests."
Dorian felt his face redden. That event still played in his mind. He had spanked Merry on multiple occasions, encouraged by Elias, but had always thought it to be a dirty little secret between them. Because of the internet, he knew that many others claimed to indulge in spanking and bondage as a form of foreplay, but he'd always assumed the actual BDSM lifestyle to be nothing more than fantasy, and that the people who discussed it just had very active imaginations.
"It caught me by surprise, that's all."
"Don't lie to me, boy. It excited you. I watched your facial expressions, the change in your breathing, the tensing of your muscles, and the way you flexed your right hand. You've spanked girls, haven't you? The truth."
"Just one. My best friend's kid sister when she bratted with me."
"How did it make you feel?"
"I don't know. Powerful? Protective? A little ashamed."
"Our society has listed spanking as taboo, and dominance as offensive to women. Shame comes from believing society's lies. Were you aroused?"
"Maybe a little. I did like the control," Dorian admitted. "But she's much too young. She's also like a kid sister to me."
"She will grow up one day. Dorian, a Dominant who suppresses his needs will fall into the same type of depression as a musician who is unable to play an instrument. It's part of how we are designed."
"I'm not a Dominant."
"No, not yet. You have a lot to learn. But you are one who needs to be in charge of a situation, right?"
"I prefer it that way, although it isn't always the case."
"Have you ever been in the heart of The Gentlemen's Club?"
"No," Dorian answered. "I don't qualify. A sponsor is required, as well as having a financial investment. The only reason they have permitted me lodging here is because my mother was trained under their program."
"Your mother was a Gentleman's Maid, or a Lady of Day?"
"What's the difference?"
"A Gentleman's Maid is recruited from the outside. A Lady of Day was born from a class of nobles who either served—or were members of—the organization."
"I don't know. My father was apparently a member, however, he took off after getting her pregnant. They banished him from the club, but made sure that Mother and I were cared for."
"If they did that, then one of your parents is a descendent of British nobility. That also explains why you were permitted to stay in the main sanctuary."
"So what does this have to do with anything? My family history really doesn't interest me."
"I'm getting old, son, and I realize that it's time for me to pass my knowledge on to someone who will guard and cherish it. I'm going to take you through the club. When we are done, tell me either yes or no."
"Yes or no to what?"
"You'll see, my boy. You will see." The man patted Dorian's knee and then stood up.
Never in his life could Dorian have believed a place like this existed. Dr. Tatum took him through the training areas, the dungeons, the classrooms and the Master's study. He saw women being disciplined with the bare hand, canes, tawses, straps and paddles in all positions—bent across the knee, over table tops, standing and holding the ankles. What stopped him dead in his tracks was a two-handed whipping being delivered to the back of woman suspended between two posts. He stared, unable to break away from the sight—the slithering dance of the Florentine whips, the purple-red stripes marring her snowy skin, the sound of her screams combined with mews of delight.
"Yes." Dorian whispered. "I want this. I want that," he pointed to the whip master. "What do I need to do to learn?"
Dr. Tatum smiled and patted young Dorian on the shoulder. "Let's start by finding you some experienced submissives and teaching you about the human body."
Every minute of the following three years was subsequently filled with school, training, and attending events with his mentor. He learned the psychology of the lifestyle, how to read body language and see what was being said when words were not in use, and how to focus his communication in the direction of instruction and in gaining control. Dorian discovered the power of these skills and used them—not only for his work in the training of submissives, but also applied them to the vanilla men and women he was surrounded by.
Dorian shared everything with his mentor, including the emails sent by Merry. Her words, and responses to Dorian's scoldings, led Dr. Tatum to believe that the girl had the potential to be trained as a submissive. He also knew that Dorian was madly, and deeply, in love with her. He encouraged Dorian to return home for Merry's high school prom and evaluate their relationship, emphasizing that once a Dominant had tasted the delights of the lifestyle, he would never be happy going back to 'vanilla' living. Would she be willing to be trained as a domestic? If so, Dr. Tatum assured him that she would be accepted into the TNG program as Dorian's first submissive.
Merry had blossomed into a beautiful vibrant young woman with a very strong personality that Dorian found both delightful and challenging. Her response to his dominant side was equally exciting, and he was convinced that she was 'the One'. It required little effort on his part to gain permission from her disinterested parents to allow the eighteen-year-old to return to England with him after graduation; where he proudly presented her to Dr. Tatum and the club members. Merry was instantly admitted into The Gentlemen's Club under Dorian's protection as his first, and exclusive, submissive, and began her training with him under Dr. Tatum's watchful eye
.
Dorian was happy, truly happy. He had been granted license to practice law in three different countries, had the love of his life by his side, and his whip techniques were gaining attention from even the best thrower. The Gentlemen's Club offered him a generous retainer to represent the clients and draw up contracts, and Dr. Tatum spent every minute he could teaching him the fine art of a good 'mind fuck', as well as other psychological techniques that could make—or break—a submissive.
Oddly enough, the most difficulty Dorian had was in learning the power of taking a more positive approach to life. His serious and quietly contemplative nature rebelled against nonsense and silly notions, which was reflected not only in his need for total self-control and strict adherence to a rigid schedule, but also in his expectations of himself. As a result, he tended to be highly critical of his own growth and development, an obsessive perfectionist, and guilt-driven when he failed to meet a standard that he had set for himself.
To prevent Dorian from becoming one of those 'British gents with a stick up their arse,' Dr. Tatum challenged him to find and explore a single act of senseless rebellion. "It doesn't have to be huge," the old man said, "but just enough that you know you are doing it as a refusal to conform. Mine is the refusal to put shopping carts back in the corral."
Dorian ignored the suggestion until he received word that Elias had been sent to Afghanistan to guard U.S. ambassadors and tighten security measures. That was when he donned his first set of mismatched socks. The fact that it drove Merry ridiculously crazy helped him to understand Dr. Tatum's wisdom. He kept his spirits high with daily emails to Elias about the things he was learning, and the promise to introduce his best friend to his world the second he was discharged from the service.
The Whip Master Page 13
