Becoming His Slave (72 page)

Slave after lovely Slave was brought out and lined up along the walls of the ballroom where they sat on Grecian columns set up just four feet off the ground for guests to get their first close look.

The energy level was high, almost too high and the attention Paris and Katianna were getting was too much even for Trenton. Marcus was added to the control over his property since Diesel had opted to place some distance between him and Paris for the start of the day. Paris didn’t help matters, his own turmoil of emotions had him acting out and he threw lusty gazes in every direction. Every time someone approached he practically challenged them to take him. The space allotted by Diesel only seemed to fuel it further.

Katianna and Paris were dressed to extraordinary exotic levels. The guests risked getting close several times. Which continuously had Katianna in a nervous peril.

When mingling in the crowd Trenton kept them close sparing no admissions of his possessiveness over them to thwart his guests from attempting to touch either of them. When he was needed to work whether it was for the auction itself or to display a Slave product he kept them lined up away from the crowd, but well in his peripheral view. But having two slaves to watch over while still conducting the event was getting strenuous.

It reached a point when Trenton had lost his patients with the mellow drama between Diesel and Paris and pulled Diesel aside into the men’s bathroom, leaving Paris and Katianna outside with Marcus.

“What the hell has gotten into you?”

“To what
in
are you referring?” Diesel stalled with a mere rhetoric, not wanting to get into a debate over Paris, or his actions for that matter with his brother at the moment.

“Don’t be a wise ass with me. I know you want him, and don’t try to deny it. But that big bull out there has the biggest crush on you. Bigger than any I have ever seen a man sport. So either you fuck him or stop teasing him! Either one I need you at my side for this event and to keep the vultures off them. Have I gotten through to you?”

Diesel took a deep breath. There was no thwarting or refuting anything Trenton had said. He’d been running backwards so fast he was tripping over his own feet just to avoid what he wanted. Something he didn’t usually do, but then he’d never met anyone like Paris. The man was an iniquitous fervor that was displayed in his vanity. There were no bad guys lurking in the corners of his world, never a rainy day, or a seduction too challenging. Paris seized what he wanted right along with what he sometimes thought he wanted. If he felt regret Diesel never saw it in him.

Diesel was another matter, he laid claim… but an age could pass before he finally seized it. Ice cream melted before he tempted himself past the first sampling of the delightful experience all because he liked to keep what he claimed. Paris was untamable, which also made him unobtainable in retrospect.

Trenton didn’t wait for an answer, there was only one answer he would accept from Diesel and he turned heading back out not missing the shady grin Paris had on his face when he first came out despite his attempt to erase it before it was seen. “And you.” Trenton pointed his finger at Paris, “You behave.”

Paris dropped his eyes “Yes Dominus.” With little attempt to defuse the smile he felt that Diesel had been given an order to fuck him.

In lieu of all the emotional little dramas playing out, what mattered most at that moment was once again as it should be, Trenton had Diesel at his side.

Also pulling duty were Dane, Stef and Vida managing the Bidders check in registry and accounts payable table. They made sure money wires were confirmed before the proud new Masters could leave with their Slaves.

Harper, William and Piper were in charge of security which was comprised of both Trenton’s men and a few of the local police on the
rent a cop
registry.

Marcus and Diesel would worked directly with Trenton handling the auction line up.

What was intended to be a small respite from the demands of being continually on view downstairs, as they changed clothes and relaxed a bit before the evening dinner that would usher in the highlights of the event was quiet the other way around for Katianna. She was anything but calm as she sat on the edge of the bed, already dolled up in the exotic costume Trenton had dressed her in.

She should have been preoccupied with the show of eye candy watching Trenton’s tantalizing body as he got dressed. Instead her writer’s mind pinged out adverb after adverb and colorful adjective descriptions of what awaited downstairs and she grew tenser and more fearful with every ticking second. Her insides so jittery she felt as if she had downed ten coffees along with an entire bowl of sugar each. The respite was more like waiting in the bull pen, and any second now the five bell alarm would be sounded, the gate springs released and she’d be catapulted out into the rodeo.

She glanced over at Paris who did more of the same, sitting apprehensively, and none of his usual arrogant cheer. Did he feel as she did? How preposterous was that? Paris was anything, but fearful, his lusty banter too great to be intimidated. She pictured him as the forest imp jumping from flower to flower seducing each and everyone then running away laughing while all the humming birds chased after him to lick the sweet nectar he’d stolen from his body… all a part of his wicked plan of course.
Stupid writer
—she was about to be led into the mob of lust that beckoned to be sated with the chance to own their very own sex slave.

Reality was much more like the savageries of Rome rather than the fantasies of fairy land. Though looking at Paris, he looked like she felt and she couldn’t help but wonder why. He was looking rather pleased with himself last night wrapped around Diesel when she and Trenton left them to retire for the night. Even Diesel looked perfectly natural with the imp wrapped around his waist. So what went wrong? Was everyone feeling as she did and it simply spoiled the sexual high they boasted of? She shook her head, little made sense in the sea of emotions that stormed through her right now.

“Are you ready?”

Katianna turned to find Trenton squatted down in from of her.
Oh wow
—she couldn’t help that he took her breath away. His suite unlike anything she had seen—outside a movie that is, but it did resemble something from one, seeing the sexy comparison that his specially tailored black suit looked like something from the movie, the Matrix. The long sleeve suit coat buttoned from throat to well below his waist, then sprayed out in several long panels reaching all the way to the floor draping over black slacks, accessorized with the second skin of black leather gloves. She always loved the well fitted gloves.

Diesel of course dressed similarly, only his jacket took on a slightly more duster coat appearance. Just enough to set him apart and to suite his rough neck persona.

If only she and Paris were allotted similar coverage. But it wasn’t the case. Paris wore cream colored leather pants that fit so tight they looked as if they had been painted to his body. A gladiator belt with a leather strap panels on the front and back matched with dark brown butter soft leather gauntlets wrapped around his fore arms. The leather boots with large scales running up the shins made him look like he’d battled a dragon for the scales.

As for her, she was apparently the sacrificial virgin. A cream colored skirt that was far too long for her to walk in. This apparently was the point. Her breasts nearly open for the world to see given only a faint hint of modesty by the multitude of necklace strands made of beads and seashells. And her long wavy hair helped as well.
Not that she felt covered mind you.

“Kat?” Trenton took her hands in his and kissed them both, looking up at her waiting for her response. Her fingers felt clammy suddenly in his. She shook her head timidly and he offered her a gentle smile. “You’ll be okay. I’ll be with you the whole time.” She nodded.

But when he stood gathering her skirt up and placing the drawn fabric in her shackled hands, she felt quiet queasy. “I don’t think a should eat.” She whispered.

“I’ll start with small nibbles for you then, if you still feel too jittery to eat then just let me know. You don’t have to eat, if you can’t stomach it. Okay?” She nodded.

As they sat at the Master of Doms table: it only got worse. The voices, the laughter, even the comments thrown about some meant for her and Paris, others had nothing to do with them—but regardless she heard them all and they effected her equally so. She might as well have been one of the Slaves about to be placed on stage, naked before all and their creator—she was a nervous disaster. Too much so to eat and that was a shame for the moment, because once again Paris had displayed his knowledge for arranging a sinful dinner.

Roasted duckling and baby asparagus sautéed in lemon herb butter, all drizzled over with a Belgian chocolate sauce. Desert was slices of banana and pastry waffle chips, caramelized in a pan till just crispy, served over vanilla bean ice-cream and drizzled over with butterscotch and white chocolate. Every mouth watering flavor still could not win the argument against her belly that it should give up the butterflies for a far more tantalizing treat, nor did the butterfly war listen to her.

Occasionally when she could, she stole glances over at Paris, as if the connection she felt to this man who endured as she did could make her feel less apprehensive, less shattered. Like having your best friend at your side even if that meant both of you were in trouble by association. And right now her friend’s mood, like her nerves had still not improved much, but she had to wonder if any of Paris’ part was from the discomfort of being fed by Diesel. She couldn’t imagine a man being comfortable about being fed. Even in a man’s best behavior they were still pigs when it came to eating and preferred the freedom to carry on the ritual with their own two hands which his, at the moment were shackled like hers.

As for Diesel he looked like he was two seconds from dumping the dinner plate in his lap and the hard on fighting to be free of the heavy black trench coat so he could command Paris to eat off his body rather than hand feed him. Paris seemed to notice too, but unlike Paris, Diesel stilled seemed to be too refrained to do anything about it.

Time to move in a rush paced and before she knew it the dinner was finished along with her wandering thoughts. Trenton had her and Paris walking close at his heels for the stage. Behind them, a string of men and woman, beautifully naked and bound for the auction block—each and every one of them caught up in their own emotional storm. A few not so silently.

Trenton paused at the side wing of the stage, turning he glanced down at her. Katianna felt her heart in her throat and wondered by who’s grace she didn’t faint right there on the spot. The soft touch of his hands even inside the gloves reached her, his eyes strong and powerful told her to stand still—possessed her—owned her. He pulled the gathers of her skirt from her hands and dropped the tremendous amount of ruffled excess to the floor and splayed it out around her feet, then made a few adjustments to her hair, so that a perky nipple peeked through only enough that he knew they were there waiting for him, waiting for his mouth to come over them and suckle them till they were achingly hard and burning for more of him. When she was as he wanted her, he rewarded her with a gentle kiss to the forehead. Then turned to Paris, after Trenton repositioned his shackled arms to his back, Paris was eased to his knees next to her and motioned back till he was sitting on his heels and then he too was given the same affectionate kiss to the forehead.

The next to receive Trenton’s attention were his guests and to their glee the moment they had come for had finally arrived.

Trenton stepped out on the stage runway his hands plainly at his side as he strode out in complete control of himself and those around him. When he reached the end his arms moved behind his back and he bowed gently to his guests and they cheered for him. He straightened pivoted just enough to direct another bow to the side of the room then mirrored the movement to the opposite side.

A stage hand stepped up gave him a signal and Trenton called out to the mob just like he had for Marcus’s birthday. Only this time, only the Dominus reined in control.

The first slave up was a woman, tender ivory skin and strawberry blonde curls spilled over her shoulders to lick at her savory breasts and rosy pink nipples. Diesel led her on, his hand on the back of her neck keeping her in check. He controlled them all with that touch, but that firm contact also gave them reassurance, gave them what they had come for, submission to the control of a dominant. They had surrendered to this, to being sold to the highest bidder. From here out whatever happened to them they could do nothing about it.

And as each slave was brought up one by one, a few gave over their tears as well as their bodies.   

All was going well they had just completed the first round where the Island Resort raked in nearly half of the sixty-five slaves given over for 2 to 6 months of servitude; taking thirty instead of the intended twenty for the resort, just one of the advantages of having some of the island’s primary investors present.

The long session was followed with a break, one that Katianna was in need of. Trenton escorted her into the ladies room helping her gather her skirt, but then she waited for him to leave when he didn’t move for the door her expression deepened “Are you going to step out?”

“No.” He tightened.

“Trenton?” her eyes bugged at him.

Trenton ignored the outburst, dropping back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. Basically letting her know he wasn’t budging.

“Please—” she begged.

Trenton glanced at his watch, “We’re don’t have much time and I won’t have another chance to bring you in until after the next set and I have twenty-eight people in the listing. Are you sure you wanna get stuck holding it that long?”

Kat frowned. Then stomped over to the sink, flipped the tap up to run the water, then went into the stall. Trenton laughed.