Enslaved (15 page)

“She hasn’t been yours for two weeks,” Roman replied calmly.

Marc stepped between the two men, who suddenly seemed dangerously close to each other. He physically pushed them apart.

“Stop this bullshit,” Marc growled. “You’ve been best friends for ages. She’s just a girl.”

“She’s
not
just a girl to
me.
”

Elisabeth gasped, because it wasn’t only Trevor who said the words. It was Roman as well. They had spoken in unison, like the best friends they were—or had been.

She’s not just a girl to me.

What did that mean?

Did owning her represent a power struggle that she’d accidentally found herself in the middle of, or did it run deeper than that? Was any of this about her at all, the woman, and not just the submissive?

“I don’t belong to either or you,” she finally said. “It doesn’t matter who claims me as his own if I don’t accept. Right now I want to speak with Trevor.” With a knowing look, she glanced at Roman. “I had all morning to
talk
with you.”

A vein pulsed in Roman’s forehead and she shrank back, wondering if she’d have to finally pull her safeword out of the cabinet for the first time ever, in order to remind these men that she wasn’t a toy to be passed from one to the other, or to play “keep-away” with.

“Fine,” Roman said. “We did spend quite a bit of time
talking
this morning, after all. And we’ll
talk
some more when Trevor returns you for your training. I’m sure only a few minutes alone with you will prove that you still need it.”

The veiled threat of more rough sex shouldn’t have made her tingle with desire, but it did. Damn her kinky wiring. Nothing made sense.

Roman stormed out of the room, and Elisabeth knew that if the door didn’t have one of those slow-closing hinges on it to prevent it from slamming, he would have slammed it. Or maybe not. By choosing to give Trevor permission to spend time with her, it was almost as if he’d reasserted his authority over her.

Marc looked at Elisabeth. “Are you okay here?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “Thank you for asking.”

Marc nodded toward Trevor as he opened the door to leave the office. “Call me later, man, if you need to talk.”

Elisabeth waited for the sound of his footsteps to fade before walking over to the middle of Trevor’s office where he stood, staring at the shut door with a look of anger and confusion.

“Sir.”

Trevor turned around and pulled her toward him in a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Trevor.”

“Call me ‘sir’ again.”

“Sir. Please.”

She wasn’t sure want she wanted, other than more.

“Let’s go to my room,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

With an easy strength, he picked her up in his arms and carried her out of his office and down the long corridor to his master suite. It felt so good to be encircled in his warmth, to feel the thud of his heart against her arm as he cradled her body.

He set her gently on the bed.

But he needed to know everything before they could make love, or it wouldn’t feel real, it would be like lying to him.

“I slept with Roman this morning.”

His mouth made a thin line. “In his bed?”

“I’ve been sleeping on the floor next to his bed actually. I meant we fucked.”

Please, tell me he broke your rule by sleeping with me.

“Did you like it?”

Lie. For once in your life, lie.
But the truth came out anyway. “Yes.”

“Good for you, then.” Trevor’s voice was tight.

“I don’t think staying with Roman is a good idea for me anymore. Do you, sir?”

“Are you asking me, or are you telling me you won’t go back to him?” Trevor pulled a flexible bamboo cane out of his toy chest.

She eyed it with lust. No one had caned her—a vicious punishment—since her last night with Gregory. Her body thrummed with anticipation.

Her first instinct, to say something bratty or hurtful to make her punishment worse for herself, was overcome by the training Roman had instilled in her.

“I will do what you want me to do, sir.”

A look of amazement came to Trevor’s eyes. “Well look at you. Roman’s right, his training has been having a good effect on you. You didn’t even threaten to leave me.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be, sir.” If only he felt that she was ready to stay with him, then she’d never have to risk falling for Roman. And the risk was real. Especially given the way he dominated her so completely.

It was easy with Trevor to forget sometimes that he was in charge, but only because she hadn’t allowed herself to submit to him. Anyone can give an order, but it takes someone to follow the order to make things happen.

“Me too,” he said. “I want you to take off your clothes and bend over the bed.”

She didn’t hesitate, even though she feared the pain of a caning as much as she desired it. Her pussy was already wet with anticipation, just from her watching him hold the cane in his hand, slowly flexing it.

Her nipples pressed against his bedding, peaked with desire, not with cold as they were so often in Roman’s house.

“I still want to own you,” he said, and the cane sliced through the air, landing sharply on the back of her thighs. She wailed, excitement and pain and arousal all mixed into one sound.

The next strike came directly beneath the first. The first line still hurt like hell, a fire lit across her skin. The second seemed to intensify it. How many strikes? Would he cover her thighs?

“I can’t stand the thought of you with Roman,” he said, and she nodded through a haze of tears as the cane whistled down again. He was making orderly, parallel lines. The welts would remind her of him for the next week at least, and that’s if he hadn’t broken the skin. She couldn’t tell.

“But if we’re to have any chance at all, you must go back to him.” This time, when the cane rained down on her, she let her tears rain down with it. She didn’t want to go back. It would ruin everything, didn’t he see that?

Trevor tossed the cane to the floor, an unusual act for a man as controlled and careful as he was. He rolled her onto her back and she cried out as her fresh welts came in contact with the bed.

She was wet, ready for him, needing him more than she’d ever needed anyone in her life.

He watched her face as he undressed, first his belt, then his shirt, his boots, his pants. He let them lie where they fell, seemingly unable to take even the time to fold them like he’d always done in the past. Today was different.

He thrust himself inside her, standing, then collapsed on top of her and dragged her to the middle of the bed. The pain as her skin rubbed across the sheets only served to increase her lust.

“God, I missed this,” he whispered, burying his head into the crook of her neck. She kissed his ear, cheek, any part of him she could find with her mouth . . . his shoulder as he mounted her again and rode her hard, their bodies slick with sweat as they slid against each other.

His cock filled her, hitting her G-spot over and over until he switched his angle and hit her cervix. The pleasure followed by the pain heightened both sensations for her, and after a few bruising motions inside her, he switched back to stimulating her G-spot until she melted around him, her juices soaking the sheet beneath them.

“That’s my girl.” He pulled out of her.

You’re not done, you haven’t even come
, she wanted to say, but she held on to her training and didn’t try to take charge of the scene.

“Has he taken you anally?” he asked. She knew the he in question was Roman, not Gregory.

“No, sir.” Saying no instead of “not yet” felt more respectful. It was clear where this was going. If Trevor and Roman couldn’t have a pissing match over who got her, it would be who got to her first.

“On your hands and knees,” Trevor said, reaching for a bottle of lube. Slowly, with lubricated fingers, he moved his fingers deep inside her ass, creating a feeling different from what they’d just experienced, but just as enjoyable in a similar pleasurably-painful way. His fingers felt amazing.

But as the head of his cock pressed against her asshole, she moaned into the pillow, loving the feel of him inside her as the pain bloomed. He hadn’t even tied her up, and yet she felt relaxed and safe.

Roman’s words—
“There’s nowhere for you to go”
—came to mind, and her pussy pulsed with desire. She shook her head, wanting Roman out of her mind as much as she wanted more of Trevor in her body.

“Are you okay?” Trevor asked, pausing midthrust, his hands on her hips.

“Wonderful, sir.”

With that, he thrust deeper inside her ass and reached around until he found her clit. She didn’t try to fight his fingers, or the pleasure that he bestowed upon her like a gift. If her Master wished for her to have pleasure, then in her submission she should take it, no questions asked.

Her climax rose in time with his, and she came on demand, when he rubbed her clit fast and told her “Now.”

As she fell forward with the intensity of her orgasm, he pulled his cock out of her ass and came on her back, a hot spatter of come that reminded her of the wax Roman had dripped on her skin that first night as she masturbated.

Oh, Roman, get out of my head, damn you.

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” Trevor said. “I’m going to get a warm washcloth to clean you up.”

Panting, she remained on her stomach, taking note of how she felt. Thighs on fire, understandably, from the caning. Asshole sore but in a good way. Clit swollen and tingling from her orgasm. Womb cramping from the thrusts against her cervix. Trevor’s semen drying on her back.

All in all, she felt amazing.

“Thank you, sir,” she murmured as Trevor carefully wiped her back clean, and between her legs. She stretched like a cat, luxuriating in the privilege of being on a bed once more.

“May I rest here, sir?” she asked carefully. “I’ve never been in your bed before, and I really like it.”

“Yes,” he said. “And I like seeing you here.” He stroked her hair as she started to doze. “You still have to go back to Roman though. It’s the only way.”

She turned to him. Why did he still want her to go?

“Okay,” she whispered.

She could only go where she was wanted, and if both men wanted her to be submissive to Roman, then it was either that or leave.

And she couldn’t see herself leaving, not now. Not when being with Roman might be the only way she’d ever get to be with Trevor. Of all the conundrums . . . she sighed and closed her eyes.

What seemed like mere moments later, she awoke to the afternoon sun slanting in window. She’d been sleeping for hours. Here, in Trevor’s bed, she felt comfortable and safe. She hadn’t been sleeping quite as well on Roman’s floor.

“I’m sorry, Elisabeth,” Trevor said from the doorway. So that’s why she’d woken up. “You need to get dressed. Carl is going to drive you back to Roman’s.”

“When will I see you again?”

“I’m going to leave that up to Roman.”

Elisabeth smiled to hide her fear. If he left it up to Roman, then he might never be with her again. Her relationship with Roman had evolved to a breaking point, didn’t Trevor see that? And if he did, then what did that say about how Trevor felt for her, if he gave her back to him instead of keeping her for himself?

“Yes, sir.”

Chapter Eight

T
revor forced himself not to watch out the window as the black town car drove Elisabeth away—back to Roman. Making her leave again when all he wanted was to keep her in his bed forever was one of the hardest things he’d had to do.

Even harder than hearing her admit that she’d slept with Roman that very morning before coming to see him. It wasn’t unusual for Roman to sleep with someone he was training, after all, kink was his turn-on, just like it was for Trevor and Marc. Still, imagining her underneath Roman while he fucked her—

No. Stop. His fingernails cut into his palms from where he’d clenched his fists at the thought. Elisabeth was fine, after all. Better than fine. True to Roman’s word, she was flourishing from his training. She was, in fact, ready to be done training, as far as Trevor was concerned.

After their afternoon together, he could tell she’d learned some self-restraint and also still retained her passion for him. If he gave her what she needed, with daily maintenance spankings, or whippings, or whatever he chose, that would be enough to satisfy her so she didn’t feel it necessary to act out and “earn” a punishment.

They could be happy together, no more tug-of-war. That much was clear to him. But what happened between him and Roman in his office—standing nose to nose, ready to piss on Elisabeth as if they needed to mark their property—had never happened before.

They shared girls, they didn’t fight over them. The fact that Marc had to physically separate them was unheard of.

Roman certainly never cared about a submissive he trained more than just enough to train her properly. He fucked them and left them, which is why Trevor had given Roman blanket permission to train Elisabeth as he wished. As long as she consented, of course. And she had.

She’d enjoyed herself, like she said, right before Trevor caned her.

Fuck.

What had he done? He’d made million-dollar investments before with less concern and doubt than he felt now over this situation with Elisabeth and Roman.

There was always that chance—that get-struck-by-lightning chance—that someone would change the rules, and change the game.

That’s what Roman had done, by falling for Elisabeth. That was never supposed to happen.

Trevor sat heavily in his chair, his knees nearly buckling beneath his frame at the thought.

Roman, the one who would forever remain a bachelor, free to prowl WhipperSnapper and find beautiful women to play with while Trevor and Marc grew up and got married and started families. That was how they all always imagined it would play out, Roman included. Roman had always said love wasn’t for him. And Trevor knew Roman remembered that Trevor had resisted the temptation of bedding Roman’s college girlfriend, even though she’d thrown herself at him.

It was one of the defining points in their relationship. They stuck together as friends and would never let a woman come between them. Trevor hadn’t betrayed Roman, and Roman had told him that it meant everything to him. Even when that chick ended up leaving Roman and breaking his heart, Trevor had steered clear, for Roman’s sake.

Certainly Roman hadn’t done this to Trevor intentionally.

Not his best friend in the world, right?

Trevor didn’t even know if Roman was aware of his own feelings. Did he know that he was acting differently than he did with other subs? He probably didn’t even realize how much it hurt Trevor when Roman had said, “She’s not just a girl to me.”

“Roman, how you could you let this happen?” he muttered.

And now, to have Elisabeth tell him that she didn’t think she should go back to Roman’s house, that she wanted to stay with Trevor . . . why? Was it because she knew Roman was falling for her, or was it because she was falling in love back?

It was definitely a possibility. More than a possibility, especially for someone with a masochistic streak as wide as Elisabeth’s. She needed a firm hand, continuous discipline in her life, and certainly Roman could provide that better than Trevor. Whenever Trevor saw her, his first instinct was to hug her or kiss her, not snap his fingers to make her kneel.

But the way she snuggled into his arms after they’d made love, it was clear that she needed that affection too, whether she knew it or not. And Trevor was the one who could give it to her.

Trevor knew Roman better than anyone else, better than even his own mother knew him. If Trevor fought to keep Elisabeth with him while Roman still wanted her, then Trevor would spend the rest of his life wondering if Roman was going to try to steal her away from him. With Roman’s good looks, his money, and his talent with all things related to dishing out pain, he’d be a real adversary.

His best friend would become his worst enemy. The Brooks Wilde Chase Fund would probably dissolve, not that Trevor really cared about that—he already had more money than he knew what to do with.

No. The only way to make sure Roman understood that Elisabeth belonged with Trevor was if Roman himself came to that decision. Trevor would have to trust that Roman wouldn’t betray him, just as Trevor hadn’t betrayed Roman all those years ago at Yale.

And what about Elisabeth? She’d never told Trevor that she wanted to be his. Wanted to be owned by him, collared by him. She was also right on the edge now. Any incident could push her toward Roman and away from Trevor forever.

He held his phone in his hand, staring at it. Carl had almost certainly gotten her to Roman’s by now. And surely Elisabeth wasn’t wearing her blue phone while she was there.

Trevor thought back over every interaction she had had with him today. Had he made it clear to her how he felt? Had he made it clear that he didn’t want to send her back either?

No. He hadn’t. If he had, there’d have been no way she could go to Roman’s. And then even if she demanded to be returned to Trevor—something she could do, if she really wanted to—they’d live their lives together with Roman in the background, waiting for his chance to be with her.

So as far as Elisabeth was concerned, she must assume that Trevor didn’t consider her training to be complete. That she wasn’t ready to be with him. That she still needed to be with Roman.

And surely Roman would take full advantage of that. How could he not, if he were a man in love?

“C
ome in,” Roman said when Elisabeth knocked on the door to his bedroom. He sat by the window, reading, but he put the book down when she came in. “How was your time with Trevor?”

“It was good. I fell asleep in his bed.” Her glance dropped inadvertently to the spot on the hard floor where Roman had been having her sleep, to teach her humility.

“I knew he’d send you back to me.” Roman said, but without any of his usual arrogance. “Come here.”

She knelt at his feet, the way she knew he’d want her to. “How did you know?”

“Because Trevor wants what’s best for you. And I’m what you need, not him.” He stroked her hair, pulling it down so she was forced to look into his eyes. “You know you need me, what I have to offer.”

“I don’t know what I need anymore, sir,” she whispered. “When I’m with you, all I want to do is submit to you, to please you. I respect you because you’re kind of terrifying.”

At this, Roman smiled, one of the few smiles she’d seen on his face in their time together. Unlike Trevor, who smiled at her whenever he looked at her, as if her mere presence brought him happiness.

“When I’m with you,” she said, “I want you to beat the shit of me and fuck me hard like you did this morning. But when I’m with Trevor . . . I feel warm. Loved. Safe. Happy.”

“Trevor may be a Dom, but you’re a special sort of submissive. I don’t know that he can give you the pain and discipline you require. You need to be a collared slave the way other women need to breathe. It’s part of you. Trevor doesn’t get that, but I do. Because I live to dominate.”

“I don’t know what to think. I’m so confused.” She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Was this what love was? Confusion and heartache?

“Then let’s not think for a while. Take off your clothes.”

Grateful for a direct order, Elisabeth slowly stripped, wincing as she moved the fabric across the skin on her cane-striped thighs.

“He caned you?” Roman stood, physically turning her around so he could inspect her.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m surprised. I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“I think Trevor was trying to show me that he can be what I need.” And yet he still sent her back to Roman.

“What do you think?”

Yes. No. Yes.
Elisabeth shrugged, unable to put her feelings into words. “I thought . . . you just said let’s not think for a while.”

Roman shook his head. “Still trying to be in charge.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“I’m not. I’m in the mood for teaching lessons.”

Desire coursed through her, a desire she immediately shunned as inappropriate. She’d just been with Trevor. What was wrong with her?

Roman took her by the arm and led her to the bed. “Bend over.”

She did.

Taking off his tie, he blindfolded her, tying the silk in a tight knot behind her head. Her world went black, and she focused on breathing.
In two three, out two three four.

Next, the feel of a leather strap binding her wrists behind her back. Restrained, she relaxed slightly, calmer with the tangible reminder that she was not in charge. He had said he was in the mood for teaching lessons. What would the lesson entail?

“This caning he did, so nice and neat,” Roman said. “But he forgot one stripe.”

Breathe.

She heard the whistle of the cane in the air before it hit her, cutting diagonally across each welt Trevor had left on her. Pain reignited each stripe with a blazing line of fire. She cried out, a deep wail she felt from the depths of her soul.

Roman had put his own mark on each and every stripe with one move. No wonder he said he lived to dominate. He breathed sadism the way she breathed masochism. It was their air, and in Roman’s house at least, they shared the same sky.

“You know I can be vicious,” he said.

“And I love it. God help me, I love it.” She moaned against the bed, her thighs burning.

“But I can also care for you, Elisabeth,” he whispered. “If you’ll let me.”

She felt the burn intensify as he rubbed something onto her thigh, but then the fire was quenched by whatever ointment he administered. Slowly, sensually, Roman rubbed the ointment onto each of her marks, including the one he’d placed on her.

Relief, at the hands of Roman? He certainly was full of surprises today.

“I want you to lie on your back with your knees bent so you don’t get the ointment on the sheets,” he instructed.

“Yes, sir.” Dizzy with arousal, she rolled over, careful not to let her thighs touch his bed. Her hands, bound behind her back with the leather strap, pressed into her skin, reminding her of her bondage. The blindfold remained, but she didn’t dare ask him to remove it. Without vision, her other senses intensified. She could hear better, taste more, feel more . . .

Like the feel of his hands on her knees as he spread her legs, and yes—the feel of his tongue on her pussy, running up and down her wet slit.

“Sir . . .” She bit her lip to keep from telling him she didn’t need this, didn’t need to be pleasured by him.

“There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to be but right here, until I release you.”

His tongue circled her clit slowly as she gasped with desire. It was exactly what she needed to hear from him. Those words made every last drop of tension release from her body, until the stimulation of Roman’s tongue working her clit relentlessly made the tension build back up. He was giving her pure pleasure, showing her that he too could make her happy.

What had she gotten herself into?

“Stop thinking,” he ordered, and slapped her pussy, the shock of it making her squeal.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t think, just relax and enjoy yourself. That’s an order. I’m not letting you go until you come for me.”

“Yes, sir,” she breathed as his mouth claimed her pussy once more. He sucked her clit, nibbling it gently.

Pleasure crested within her and she panted. As if he sensed she was on the edge, he ground his lips and tongue against her, and she came, bucking her hips.

His mouth was on hers next, and she tasted herself on his lips. Had Roman ever kissed her before this? She couldn’t remember, couldn’t even think straight. Suddenly the blindfold was ripped from her face.

“I want you to look at me,” Roman said. “To know that it’s me doing this.”

His hair hung forward over his handsome features as he thrust inside her, her legs still bent. Roman paused. “Wait, roll over for a moment.”

Fuck. Was he going to take her in the ass too? Was it all some cruel game between the men?

But no, he was releasing the leather strap that bound her hands behind her back. With her hands free, she kept them at her sides, unsure what to do with them, what he wanted.

“You can touch me,” Roman whispered. “I want your hands on me.”

Elisabeth grabbed on tightly to his back as he rode her, clinging to him as if he were a life raft in the ocean.