Becoming His Slave (34 page)

Trenton glanced back down at the personal file on Paris.
Went to the University of Berkley where he got his Masters in Business, paid his way by being a male review dancer.

Trenton eyes went back to the man. Strong broad shoulders held up thick muscles over his chest and arms. He looked to stand eye to eye with him, but Paris was definitely bigger then he was. Well groomed and he purposely kept a noon time shadow on his angular jawline. Jet black hair hung in stylized fringe over his eyes. He had that fallen angel look and he was probably sought after by both men and women. Trenton went back to reading over Paris’ profile, but he remembered it from before. Paris then went on to develop a museum tour of living dolls. Men and women that posed as some of the world’s most famous nude paintings. His living art even did a tour at Fambleush’s
Musée de L’art Corps.

About a year after the private Island Resort opened for business off the coast of the Isle of Martinique, Paris’ portfolio showed up on their desk practically
demanding
rather than asking to become operations manager.

The man would have had to employ a fortune teller to have such ideal timing, as it turned out Paris’ portfolio had arrived just days after the board had agreed to Trenton’s proposal for a late summer B&D season at the resort.

Paris had everything they wanted in a director, without a doubt Paris was just that person, right from the start. He was the one to ensure the specialized events of the resort would be a success, but out of all that was right, Paris didn’t have any experience in the BDSM world. Now Trenton had to cram every aspect of it in a matter of days.

“Your very muscular—do you have any workout training needs?”

“I would like to be able to continue working out some if you’d allow it Dominus.”

Trenton’s eyes flickered up from the folder, “Nice answer, for that I will permit it. Three days a week to a full gym,
Patronus
Diesel will be the one to accompany you and over see you there. There is also a small weight machine at the house, you’ll be allowed to use when other activities are not taking up your time.”

“May I ask, Dominus?” Paris reminded himself to keep his eyes down, if only to earn the moment to pop the question.

“You may.”

“You mentioned Patronus Diesel? Would that be Mr. Diesel Gentry, from the board?”

“He is and if you had done your homework you would have known that.”

Paris felt the twinge, he had tried to do his homework. Did so on every one of the board members, twenty three in all. But Diesel and Trenton both lead private lives. He knew about their businesses here in New York, knew by the address they shared the same block. But he did not expect to have Diesel involved in his stay. He’d found a picture of Diesel, with the exception of the man’s tattoos, Diesel had one hell of a delicious body. Paris couldn’t prevent the grin, two for the price of one. His stay here was looking better again.

Trenton got up and came around his desk. He leaned back on it bringing his arms over his chest and looked down at Paris. “What turns you on Paris?”

“You do Dominus.” Paris was suddenly coming to his feet and the lust in his eyes was a clear indication that the man may look like an angel, but there was a beast lurking in there.

Trenton stood quickly, “You get up from that seat without my permission and your first day will start with a caning.” His warning came down swiftly and Paris quickly fell back in his seat. His own gaze faltering under the heated one Trenton bore down on him with presently and Paris swallowed hard.

“You will not get up or speak unless I tell you to. You are not to look up at me unless I tell you to.  You will remain seated or kneeling at all times unless told otherwise.” Trenton started to circle around him as he continued to tell Paris the rules. “When at the house you will remain naked, clothing will only be permitted when you have to leave. There may at times when I will demand you to strip while working here at the office. And when we are at the clubs you will wear what I tell you to wear.” He stopped just behind him and turned into him.

Trenton watched the ripple of anxiety in Paris—exquisite responses, the kind a Dom loved to see in their Subs. But Paris wasn’t getting the Sub training he was getting the Slave training. It was vital he knew the difference, for those who would be serving the resort guests under his management would be Slaves not Subs from a club scene.

Trenton leaned over him now, placing a firm hand to either side of the man on the arm rests, drawing close to Paris’ ear, but said nothing for the moment only allowing the closeness of his body and the warmth of his breathe to hover and torment the man.

Paris could feel the body heat coming from Trenton, and it aroused him. Finally something he knew how to handle and he would thoroughly enjoy Trenton’s body. Hell he started getting hard the second he walked in the door of Trenton’s office. He had no idea that the Dominus would turn out to be this attractive. It certainly was going to make this training stuff a lot easier, then again as Paris was given the rules he wasn’t so sure about the
easy
part.

“You do understand that your sexual satisfaction will not come from me personally, but it
will
come from my commands.” Trenton instructed him with a warm command, “So that you understand what that means—while I allow others to enjoy your body you will not cum, unless I am there to tell you, you can. If you do cum without my permission the punishment will be harsh.”

Paris felt dizzy all of a sudden. To be denied something while it was right next to him taunting his body for response. He wanted to feel Trenton’s lips on his cheek, he could feel his face burning for the contact and he tilted toward him. Trenton only countered the move denying him the contact he sought. And he lost his breath from it that easily.

Oh god, was this what it felt like to be dominated and denied?
Paris couldn’t think of a single time he had ever been denied or turned down. It was rich and dizzying. It flummoxed him. His breath deepened with every wishful thinking that Trenton still might take pleasure in his body. The man didn’t have to be gay to find him desirable, Paris knew that.

“Now let’s get back to the question at hand.” Trenton straightened walking back around him again and leaned back against the desk, “What turns you on?”

Paris looked up at him, he had never actually been posed with the question before and wasn’t entirely sure what his answer should be.

“Paris.” Trenton called the man’s wandering thoughts back to give an answer.

“I have an insatiable appetite and powerful men who pose the possibility of fulfilling my hunger turn me on.” The answer came across almost sadistically, like he had a plan all along.

Now Trenton understood Paris’s first response, it hadn’t actually been meant as a kiss-ass type of answer. He’d meant it. “Not all men of power are powerful lovers.”

“Neither are weak men, but where’s the fun in overpowering and seducing a weak man?” Paris’ gaze rolled up at Trenton with a heated lust.

“Do you sleep with women at all?”

“Never.” Paris nearly hissed his response out.

“Never? Or prefer not to?”

“Never.”

Trenton took a long thoughtful breath and let it out slowly, “I think I am going to enjoy dangling a number of carrots in front of you.” If powerful men are what turns Paris on, Trenton had access to a wealth of them. And they would serve well towards Paris’ depravity.

Trenton leaned across his desk and punched a button on the speaker phone and Diesel answered, “Can you step in for a moment?”

“Sure what’s up?”

“Paris Dalqeaute from the resort is here.”

Moments later Diesel was stepping in, his gaze shifting from Trenton to the well muscled hedonist calling his attention to him. Like an offering to the gods that screamed to be seduced by them. Shit he’d never felt such temptation before.

“Paris this is Diesel Gentry, the Master of Doms, you will refer to him by title which is
Patronus
. When you’re not taking orders from me, you will be doing so from him.” His attention then shifted to Diesel, “It seems Paris’s lack of experiences has now become my responsibility to rectify.”

Diesel didn’t comment, but stepped up next to Paris his hand taking him by the back of the neck, gentle, but firm and pushed on him, “Move to your knees now.” Diesel commanded Paris.

Paris shifted, looking up at the man that had joined them and was instantly giving orders. The picture he had found of Diesel had hardly done justice for the man now standing in front of him. He had a slightly rougher appearance then Trenton; his hair buzzed like a new recruit and only had that three day shadow. He wore relaxed-fit grey denims with that dusky look, like they’d been dragged through the dust a few times before he put them on, matched with a slate grey—seriously? A cut up silk shirt.

“Who the hell cuts the sleeves off a silk shirt?” Paris risked
tussing
with Diesel over the condition of an expensive designer shirt.

Diesel let a grin come to his face, but it was of one of a more sardonic nature then friendly, “Don’t make me have to say it again Slave.” Diesel warned him, referring to him only as a slave and not as a man with a name. Diesel was here to make the switch for the man, Diesel understood that. It always worked better this way for someone who was getting thrown into transaction. Diesel would strip Paris of the remaining self control and then return him to Trenton as nothing more than a Sub-servant. Albeit a fucking good looking one at that.

Paris eased out of the chair kneeling down on his knees and sat back on his heels. He had already been pointed towards the door once in the last thirty minutes he didn’t want to risk being
shown
the door the next time.

“Does it irk you that I would take a pair of scissors to a Versace silk shirt?”  

Paris’ eyes snapped up, “Why would you do that?” Okay this one really flummoxed him.

Diesel let out a slight huff, “Because I can.” He answered mutely, “Take off your suit coat and hand me everything in your pockets. Wallet, keys, whatever else you have. And I better start hearing some titles coming from your lips.”

“Yes, Patronus.” Paris followed the instruction given him while his mind ran lapse around his head trying to catch up with what was happening. He slipped his coat off and passed it to the hand held out for it, then handed him his wallet, along with everything else that was requested of him.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Not another word from you.” Trenton commanded as he watched Diesel confiscate his belongings. Paris needed to be stripped down of all the things that gave him a sense of control. The suit, the tie, wallet, money, keys, stripping away the things that made a business man feel respectable and felt in control. These things when taken began the process of vulnerability. And Paris looked as though he’d never known the sense of the word and it was going to take a considerable amount of stripping to get him there.

“He’s a talkative one isn’t he?” Diesel commented to Trenton, who only huffed at the comment.

Paris passed the hotel key card over, “I’ll need that back at the end of the night.”

“Not so good on listening either.” Trenton added to Diesel’s comment.

“What makes you think you’re going to need any of this?” Diesel was asking Paris as he flipped through the contents of Paris’ wallet. Nearly a thousand dollars cash, three credit cards. Gym pass. National Museum of Art membership pass, Chef’s Choice VIP membership card, but no photos.

“So I can get in my room tonight when you release me for the evening.”

Diesel chuckled, “The only thing you’re going to need is what I decide you need.”

Paris started to protest.

“
Ahh
—” Diesel put a finger to the man’s lips, “Say another word and we start the day with punishment.” He paused a moment to test if Paris was going to comply and when he remained silent he continued, “Take off your tie.”

“Strip him down?” Diesel questioned Trenton.

“No—I gotta head for the airport here soon to meet up with Fambleush to receive the other Slave. Maybe a skirt, start him off in a pleated kilt if you can find one in his size and fit him with a ring or a cage.” Trenton rubbed at his forehead forging a to-do list in his mind.

“It’s gonna start feeling like a full house here soon with the auction coming up and we’ve got the self surrendered slaves that will be coming in for boarding.” Diesel commented as he watched Trenton return to the other side of his desk and drop down in his chair.

Trenton drew a finger along his cheek falling into deep thought.  “Let Marcus over see them so you can focus on the two here for training.”

Trenton dropped his elbows on the desk and planted his face in his hands and stopped there for a long moment.

“Have you had a chance to take a nap yet?”

Trenton’s head moved, more like shifting to peek up at Diesel through his fingers, “You’re seriously asking me that?” His hands pushed back stroking over his head and over his hair like he was wiping off the haggard feeling he had. “The phone hasn’t stopped ringing today. I still have another fifty apps for event tickets sitting in front of me and six more slave entries.” He waved his hand out towards Paris, “This one shows up on my door step today and Fambleush will be landing in three hours to deliver the other slave.”

“I’ve got this one for awhile. Have all the auction buyers been processed?”

“Yes, Dane saw to the deposits earlier this week.”

“Good.” Diesel dropped down on Trenton’s desk leaning over, snatching the phone up and punched for the front desk, “
Yeah
Stef, have William get in here and take up the office for Trenton for the rest of the day will
ya
? And see that all TLS calls get routed straight to him.” Diesel’s fingers started flipping through the folders on Trenton’s desk listening as Stephanie radioed William and called him to the office complex, “Thanks Stef, oh and another thing have any auction event stuff transferred to Marcus.”