Chapter 1 The Heart of a Dominant
What the hell was happening in Georgia?
And why did it always seem to happen the minute his back was turned? It wasn't as if he turned his back that often.
One month. Not even one brief month. Not even thirty days. That was all he'd been away.
It was only the third time in nearly three years that Donovan had left Georgia for a training session and, each time, it had gone remarkably well. He might have stopped training for a short period of time but he had never lost his touch or skills as a Dominant.
Master Donovan Corbett was tall, cold, grim, forbidding, could make a submissive shiver with fear using just a single glance or almost imperceptible gesture. He was straight forward, never played games. When he gave a command, there was no doubt, it was to be obeyed. The penalty for disobedience was far too great. That was a lesson quickly learned. It only had to be taught once.
He could use any type of apparatus required for discipline and it seemed only right that he should since many of the items he used were of his own design. He tied knots more skillfully, wrapped chains tighter, cuffed wrists or ankles faster and more efficiently than anyone.
His favorite implement had always been a riding crop although in more recent years, thanks to some private lessons, he enjoyed the feel of a whip in his strong hands.
Whips had their use as a means of punishment but Master Donovan liked the powerful control the weapon gave him even more. With hardly a flick of his wrist he could wrap the thong and fall of any whip around a slave's leg, waist or throat and bring them to their knees without leaving a single mark on their skin. Even those who hired him to train their submissives sometimes trembled watching the things Donovan Corbett did with a whip. His secret was a remarkable private coach who taught very efficient and impressive whip skills.
Master Donovan demanded absolute respect. Everything about him was intimidating: the way he walked, the way he stood, his countenance and bearing, his dark clothing, the deadly, quiet tone of voice he used, the glare of his dark eyes.
The slaves and submissives under his tutelage knew instantly what and who they were dealing with. They strove to do his bidding, working for and craving the infrequent praise he gave, yet all knew one slight, single word of acknowledgement from Master Donovan meant something.
There were only orders, never suggestions. He gave no sympathy. He showed no mercy. There were no excuses. There were no misunderstandings or do-overs. His directives were exacting and very specific. No one ever dared to disobey a rule or questioned his expertise or authority.
The fear of complete and absolute retribution was far too great.
And every slave and submissive he trained, every Dominant or Master for whom he did the training would have been thunderstruck at the sight of Master Donovan Corbett sitting on the floor, happily smiling, laughing and playing a game or building a tower of blocks with his nearly three year old son.
Matthew Donovan Corbett was thirty-three inches of pure energy and joy and loved dominating every minute of his father's time. Matthew never walked if he could run, talked constantly and always had questions. Dozens of them. He was curious about everything. He got that from his mother.
Donovan was filled with wonder and pride as he watched his son grow. He was endlessly patient playing with Matthew, both teaching him and learning from him. Almost anything Donovan may have had planned for the day could be postponed and he was always there for Matthew. Swinging Matthew high in the air, listening to his son's shouts and giggles, gave Donovan a sense of accomplishment he had never known. He did many things well and while there were some things he couldn't even begin to understand, being a father wasn't one of them. He was great at it and loved every minute of it.
He recalled a time when he was uncertain about his parenting skills and marveled at his newfound abilities. It all came so naturally and easily. The two spent hours together and had an unbreakable bond. Donovan idolized his son and, in turn, was his son's hero. He could hardly remember the time before he was around and had the distinct feeling that when his son eventually started school, it was going to be him, not Matthew, who suffered separation anxiety.
Matthew had his mother's eyes but the rest of him was the mirror image of his dad. They had the same walk, the same stance, identical mannerisms. Master Matthew even had the same intimidating glare as his father; a glare often focused on the submissive tattletale in the house: Virgil the fluffy dog-moose.
Virgil may have been submissive to Donovan but he was pure Dominant when it came to looking after Matthew and his cousin Jeremy. Nothing got past Virgil's watchful eyes no matter how hard Matthew or Jeremy might try. Bad choices never had the chance to happen due to Virgil's vigilance.
Donovan wasn't quite sure how Virgil always knew when trouble was on the horizon but he did and dutifully alerted the closest adult. Climbing on the garden wall? Not on Virgil's watch. Stealing cookies before lunch? Not while Virgil was around. Daring to approach the pool without adult supervision? Not as long as Virgil could bark. To Donovan's complete delight, Warden Virgil also tattled on Victor.
Slightly insane Victor, Donovan's assistant, the world's greatest baby-sitter and care giver had been watching over Matthew and Jeremy since they were infants and, as far as Donovan could tell, hadn't caused any lasting damage to either of the boys even if he was usually the first one to fall asleep at nap time.
Donovan still wondered how Victor knew the things he knew but when Victor was involved it was sometimes better not to ask too many questions. Victor let Matthew and Jeremy bury him in their sandbox. He cut their lunchtime sandwiches into rocket or dinosaur shapes. He made up silly games, told outrageous stories and chased the boys making them scream with delight usually while Donovan and the dog-moose rolled their eyes and watched from a safe distance.
Finally, Donovan had an ally. True, he may have been a slobbering ally but he was devoted, watched over the boys and always took Donovan's side. Everyone needed a dog-moose like Virgil.
When Donovan's cousin Marian accepted Victor's proposal of marriage, it started the creation of an entirely new and untraditional family. The people in Donovan's home and Marian's home merged almost into a single unit and they cared for each other, watched over and trusted each other.
