Becoming His Slave (27 page)

“A drink for you Trenton?”  Chemène asked.

“Wine please. Bordeaux if you have it.”

Fam waved a hand to Donát, while he took a seat next to his wife and waved the other two girls to his feet. Donát scurried over to the bar and gracefully poured two glass of wine and filled a tumbler with scotch and carried them over, serving her Master first with his scotch, one of the wine glasses to her Mistress then brought the final glass to Dominus.

Trenton sipped at the wine, savory the bold fruity flavor as he watched Donát return to the bar and pour drinks for Toussaint and Merri, another scotch and a beer.

Trenton held the glass out to Katianna urging her to taste the wine. He knew she didn’t choose to drink, but he felt the evening would go a little easier on her if she had at least a mild buzz on.

Her hand came up to take the glass, but he pulled it back, waited for her hand to drop then held it up again drawing it closer to her lips to show his intention was to nourish her lips himself with the fermented flavor. He watched as her lips accepted the glass, watched the delicate movement of her throat as she swallowed and that slight pouty push of her bottom lip when he pulled the glass away.
Damn
—he needed to do that again, he’d liked it so much.

“More.” He raised the glass back up, but she shook her head slightly as if he had offered. “More.” He repeated, gentle, but a statement to let her know it had not been a request and she accepted his urging, just as she always had. He loved that—without ever pushing the topic of what he wanted from her she already accepted his control. Allowing him to rein over her. How she let him feed her when he felt the need and now allowed him to fill her with the wine. His own body responded and his teeth rolled at his lips watching her drink from his wine glass again. The only thing missing was the joy of kissing the wine from her lips. He knew that would have to come later.

“Will you steal up all the girls tonight?” Toussaint questioned his brother-in-law with some lustful envy.

“
Oui
, Dominus is an honored guest I plan to show my slaves off at my own feet not at yours.” Fambleush beamed, shifting back on the sofa and his arm went around his wife and was soon caressing her shoulder with a feathery touch. The other offered a tender touch to Donát as she slipped down between his legs and sat at his feet squeezing in as close as possible just as Marcena and Esmé did.

Toussaint didn’t falter at Fambleush’s refusal, having lounged back against Merri’s body who was stretched out on the lounger and reached for Merri’s hand and pushed it up inside his shirt to coaxed him to caress his body. Merri took the queue, quickly pressing in closer with a lick of his lips. His hand instantly catching on and moving on its own accord under Toussaint’s shirt over the toned muscles and a manly nipple hidden there. Merri was so quickly in tune with the other man’s body Katianna thought for sure the two would be going at it right there on the lounger in front of all of them in no time at all.  But a throat clearing gesture from Fambleush had them putting on the breaks, if not a millimeter of distance between them.

Chemène paid no mind to her brother or his lover, apparently for them this was normal, but only requested they slowdown in front of their guests. Her hand went to Esmé who sat directly in front of her and began petting the girl’s hair tenderly. But Fambleush’s hands now only touched his wife.

Fambleush shifted in his seat his gaze searching for Rachel finding her still maintaining her post at the door and he waved her to him and pointed for her to join the others. Rachel slid in next to Donát an arm curling around the girl’s waist and playfully tugged her head back by her hair and gave her a tender kiss.

“
Ahh ahh
—no touching her—she’s still grounded. You want the same?” His eyes tightened on Rachel and she grinned back as did Donát. Watching this Katianna had to wonder if the man had ever held his ground when it came to disciplining the girls. They seemed to have thorough knowledge he was really just a softy inside.

“So Trenton did Fambleush speak to you about Marcena?” Chemène gave him a hopeful look as she started up conversation.

“He did mention it, but I have to examine her first, before I decide.”

“Fam dear—” she suddenly turned to Fambleush, “What are you waiting on?”

Fam blushed for his wife, she was always so impatient.

“We were also going to discuss why he hasn’t submitted a bidder’s application for the auction.” It was actually a trick question, his way of feeling out her own response to what had taken place.

“Oh well—” she quirked her lip up, “I think I blew that one—We shared her during our honeymoon. She responded so nicely we thought she was trained properly. But look at her—” she brushed her fingers over Marcena’s hair, “—she is such a beauty and to think if I hadn’t bought her, she’d of ended up in some awful brothel.”

Trenton listened as Chemène told her version of their honeymoon to Argentina, his own attendance to Katianna never faltering. Always glancing her way, to look at her directly. She didn’t comment on any of the conversation by her own choice, she could have talked if she wanted, but he learned over the years she usually left that to everyone else. She just liked to listen, but he looked at her none the less so she knew she was still a part of his evening, not at all ignored and continued feeding her sips of his wine and readily accepted when Esmé was told to refill his glass. 

It was fun watching Fambleush with his new wife and the three girls. The girls might as well have been pedigree dogs and they were just a couple of Dutch dog fanciers. Only instead they were a couple of French slave fanciers. But purchasing outside his rotary was against policy. You didn’t have to specifically purchase from him, but did have to do so from someone that he approved of, someone on the rotary. That was how he protected members from the Black Market slave trade; it was how he kept the Black Market from prospering from buyers. It was a small dent he created in that dark world, but a dent none the less. Would he turn down their application for bidding at the auction?
No
—they knew they had done wrong out of impulse, but in the end they had handled it properly and were still seeking a means to have their Slave well cared for. He would allow them to bid anyways and dismiss the flaw.

After listening to Chemène’s side of the story Trenton made his judgment. “Submit your app, but make sure you both fill it out together its different now that your married both of you have to be accepted and make sure I have references for Chemène.”

Chemène smiled warmly and she leaned over kissing her husband, she was almost giddy with the news.

“This is good news; we were looking to possibly bring home a male slave this time.” Fambleush smiled at his wife.

“Then I suggest you bring a fat purse. The demand for males will be heavy this year.”

“Wouldn’t have something to do with that resort down in the Caribbean would it?”

“It does. The
Salientis du Deliciarum Island Resort
is looking for ten males and ten females. It’s going to make the competition fierce this year.”

Katianna did all she could to stifle her laughter, drowning it down so it was only a choked giggle, but her face went red when Trenton twisted in his seat to look at her, his face filled with bemusement. “Got that did you?”

She nodded, chewing at her lip and hid her face in Trenton’s arm even as she heard the chuckling from Fambleush. The name of the resort Trenton had mentioned was in Latin, and only someone versed in Latin would understand its playful meaning was
meant to be
delicious ejaculation.
The wicked humor was too much to pass up on and not laugh at it.

Fambleush managed to tamp his own chuckles down as well “I love a good private joke myself too, but this is extraordinary not only for people like us, but for you as well. Will you have enough to please your clients?”

“It’ll be tight; we’ve extended the window for entries in order to get a few more in.”

“Well just make sure my Marcena isn’t on the auction block while she’s with you.” He joked.

“I haven’t accepted her yet.” Trenton reminded him.

“Well then let’s get on with the examination.” Fam was pushing up to his feet and stepped over his girls waving them to stay and went over to fetch his favored customized whipping bench. Soft suede covered pads placed for perfect positioning of his slave’s body as they were laid over it and could easily be positioned straight bench pose, the equivalent of being on hands and knees or bent over with their head dropped down. All of it centered on a wide cushioned suede ottoman for the master’s own comfort should he choose to take a knee next to the slave. Fam rolled it into position so everyone else could watch then handed Trenton a red Pyrex baton, one end wrapped in soft black leather with thick straps of fringe creating a soft flogger that hung from the handle.

Trenton glanced at the toy and gave him a curious look, “You know I prefer a cane or a bamboo beater.”

Fam shook his head, “Not ready for that one. You’ll have that pleasure.” And while Trenton didn’t like using a substitute the idea of starting her from scratch held some appeal for him. His eyes shifted to Katianna at his side. There was nothing he could say for her. He had warned her before they ever left the hotel what kind of company Fambleush was and that it would very likely be expected of him to entertain and he had no intentions of turning down the chance to play.

This was not Club Pain—the world of Trenton Leos was far more intense; he never stopped being the Dominus. At the hotel he gave her the option to stay behind, but she had, in a meek response, wanted to come. He gave explicit warnings that he might touch her, might tell her to do something, nothing too extreme, but he might ask her to stay silent or not look at something and he would expect her to do as she was told. While in no way did he expect her to be his Sub, neither would he have her act defiantly of him in front of others. Not that he thought she would, but just as he would give specific instruction in his line of work, even here it had to be said. And still Katianna nodded complacently. He was kind of surprised, but relieved as well. This was the world she needed to see. The part of who he really was. Though the more he thought about it he wasn’t sure why he was surprised that she would want to go. She had always been curious, so long as she could do so from a safe distance
or
tucked safely under his arm as he was learning.

“Try the Pyrex—I think you will like it.” Fambleush broke through his thoughts bringing him back to the moment and encouraged him to continue.

Trenton got to his feet taking the red glass stick and gestured with his head it was time for everyone to step back and the room suddenly seemed to build with electricity. He crooked his finger at Marcena calling her to him and she rolled up to her feet and walked to him. He took her hand and circled her over to the bench as if leading her to the dance floor and he noted her graceful step. Very nice indeed. Then turned her to face the bench and stand in place, “Don’t move.”

Trenton circled around Marcena first taking in her shape, her poise, the growing nervous shimmer as her eyes though low followed him… the stranger that now held the flogging baton. Trenton tapped it in his palm letting it make a smacking sound all while circling around her. He wanted the nervous fear to build, he wanted her to experience that small shiver of panic, to see how long it would take if at all when she would remind herself that this is where she chose to be. After all they had offered her freedom when they discovered she had been sold to them without any submission from her and she chose to come back. This was the life she wanted. He just had to show what this really was and she needed to know that no matter what happened there was nothing she could do about it.

He paused behind her to caress her round cheeks with the end of the glass baton. Watched her fingers curl and flex at her side. He stepped closer and leaned in letting his breath touch her, “Pull up your sarong and hold it up so I can look at your naked skin.” And he stepped back to watch as her fingers gathered the cloth at her hips, little by little.

“Nice.” He commented at her style to do so slow and elegantly. “Now lean over just a bit.” And when she did so he grazed the inside of her thighs with the baton.

Her thighs clenched around the object in a responsive hug “I didn’t tell you to pleasure yourself.” And he tapped her cheeks with the Pyrex stick with a stingy snap. Her breath clutched at the contact, but Trenton wasn’t impressed with the baton as a cane substitute, it was too thick to get that nice
sting
and it would take too much energy, unlike a paddle that when at full swing gives a nice slap across the flesh, but use the baton with the same amount of pressure and it would be more like a beating. He would have to use the flogger end. Still, the baton had its own uses—ones he was certain would move him to use the instrument more often.

And right away he found use number one:
Spread Slave’s legs.

Once he had them where he wanted them, he twirled the baton in his grip and swung the leather straps across her thighs first one then the other. Her knees quivered, but she kept her place and he swung again to repeat the motion, but after the first of two strokes and his swing aimed to connect with her other thigh her hand darted out to cover the reddened flesh and Trenton caught her fingers with the flogger. He had not anticipated her to move. Now he knew he would have to look for it and that was not always easy.

Trenton leaned in whispering, his warm breath caressing over her ear. “We’re going to try this again only you’re not to move again. Do you understand?” He looked at her a moment, “Nod and tell me you understand.”

And she nodded, “Yes
Amo
.” She whimpered, calling him her boss in her native language.

“
No me llamesjefe. Usted siempre se refieren a mí como el Dominus
.”
He spoke to her in Spanish for the first time, so she understood clearly what was expected out of her, so there were no discrepancies of words and language, “
Dominus.
You will refer to me as
Dominus
.” He repeated the proper title in English.