Master In The Making

Chapter Five: "Devil's Nectar"

When dinner was over, Alison put her cigarette holder away and got up with such grace. Declan stared only at her feet, waiting for her to take his leash. When she had it, she raised her foot to slide it across Declan's thigh before tapping his hip. Without a word, Declan got to his feet quickly, standing proudly in front of her without looking up. Mark was curious if Orson would do that, but he wasn't really sitting as properly as Declan had been. Orson didn't get up though. Mark raised an eyebrow curiously; he wanted this night to come to an end. Though they didn't appear to be leaving just yet. Mark took another look at the place and gasped softly to himself. Some of the Masters were starting to lay their Subs across the tables. One Pet laid on his stomach, lifting his legs up elegantly behind him. His Master started pouring something red on him and used a strawberry to clean it off. Other Masters were doing similar things and it gave Mark goosebumps.

Were they having their Sub's for dessert? Alison glanced over her flawless bare shoulder with a wicked smile as she told her son. "Let me show you why you don't bring in an untrained parasite into our world." Orson narrowed his eyes on his mother, calmly leaning back in the booth with an unwavering confidence. Alison stroked Declan's cheek with her long nails, bringing her lips to his other cheek to purr out smugly. "When I was a little girl, my father used to tell me about how BDSM was done in secret. People didn't understand it. They fear it as slavery. Powerful men feared kneeling before a woman's feet. They preferred their strip clubs and shady hotel stays... Places where they could flaunt their wealth and power without looking weak. But true men, knew that real power lies in the control and release of one's secret lusty desires." Kissing Declan's cheekbone, she let her hand trail down his chest to unbutton his jacket. Declan stood as still as a statue; his eyes closed to keep from looking at her as she moved around him.

Orson tapped his fingers along the back of the booth seat, saying coolly. "Yes. I recall this story from my own studies. They met up at speakeasys like this and were called underground orgy cultists. BDSM can be traced all the way back to the pyramids and is in every culture of the world, but was rebuffed by religion as a sin... Even though their practices were twisted and became used in things like Flagellants and Medieval Torture as ways to hurt and scare others away from the true practice of it." Mark blinked in slight shock. He hadn't known any of that. Alison bit Declan's earlobe lightly with her perfect white teeth, before replying without looking at Orson. "Your generation is so spoiled... You know... but you don't truly understand." Alison opened Declan's jacket, revealing Declan's white silk button-up shirt beneath. She started to unbutton the black buttons slowly, telling Orson in a soft purr by Declan's throat. "To an outsider like your Sub... This lifestyle will scar him for life. Every fiber in his body will tell him how wrong this beautiful dark world is. And it only takes one rat to destroy everything we have worked years to bring out of the shadows."

Orson glanced at Mark, who cringed under his firm unreadable expression. Mark understood why Alison was bringing this up. She saw him as a threat to her lifestyle if he decided to see this as a bad thing. Orson blinked, confidently retorting back to her. "He made a contract. I was careful. I took all that into consideration. You saw for yourself." Alison pulled Declan's jacket off, draping it over the booth with her fur jacket. As she began peeling the white shirt off Declan's muscular shoulders, she told Orson seriously. "Yes... but I never take anything for granted. Having control means you never loosen you grip on the throat of those around you. Loosen your grip... and they'll turn on you." Alison's eyes darted to Mark, causing Mark to lower his eyes quickly. Mark saw Declan move closer to him before kneeling. Mark looked up to see Alison's hand on Declan's bare shoulder. Risking a look at Declan's torso, Mark locked his jaw. Declan's smooth hairless chest was covered in light scratches. Although, what upset Mark was how muscular Declan was for his age. The guy had a damn six-pack and with his dark hair and shadowed eyes. He defined his idea of a young dark and mysteriously sexy guy.