Becoming His Slave (29 page)

Trenton couldn’t discern at what point she might have procured her cane of choice, but she slipped up before him sliding the red Pyrex baton from his hand and tossed it carelessly to the ottoman and replaced it with the bamboo beater. A thick cluster of thin bamboo reeds like a handful of canes and unlike the baton delivered a cluster of stinging lashes with each sweep. Rachel lowered to her knees in front of him, her hands moving to his pants, Trenton’s hands caught hers and stop her from touching him. “I did not give you permission to touch me.”

“I only meant to please you.” She offered, still mindful of her eyes keeping them down.

“No.” Was all he said. He had gotten the physical release he needed and to his mental relief Katianna had not run from him. He would not push it nor would he allow the Slave to build him back up again. While he remembered she had a very talented mouth, she was still not who he wanted and he’d had enough of having the wrong woman.

Trenton’s hand went out to Marcena still strapped to the bench his hand stroked her back then pulled Rachel to her feet and guided her up on the bench and lowering her down over Marcena.

“Work her.” He told her and right away Rachel was delivering soft touches of her hands to Marcena’s body. Caressing her breasts, stroking over the hard nipples and she nuzzled Marcena’s head over so she could kiss her.

Trenton traced over Rachel’s back with the bundled bamboo, teasing her thighs, sliding it between them, stroking her flesh and Marcena at the same time. Rachel was instantly wet, her hips gyrating, grinding against the girl under her and she let out a desperate whimper, that was echoed by Donát in the background.

Trenton reached behind him shifting Katianna and just as she moved, his commanding hand swung out bringing the bamboo beater hard across Rachel’s buttocks. Rachel was deep in a kiss with Marcena and she moaned in the other girl's mouth, but when Trenton delivered another she broke free to let out a gasp.

Rachel chewed on her lip as he gave a rapid set of slaps down the length of one thigh and she rocked back. Her body blushing under his attendance, wanting more still. He could see she needed it hard. And she was willing to work for it too. Her hands sliding under Marcena’s body, stroking down the girl’s abdomen and slipped between her legs finding the hooded cluster of nerves and began messaging it with gentle pressure. Her own breath deepening as Trenton mirrored the slapping caresses of the bamboo to her other thigh.

Under Rachel’s experienced touch, Marcena’s moans meshed with her own as she ground against the girl's ass, crushing her own clit against the firm curve of flesh. Trenton moved around them bringing the bamboo down over Rachel’s back several times leaving sharp stinging pleasure that heated her flesh to degrees that could not be reached by any other means.

Rachel felt the next set of blows and with them her tears poured out. “Yes!” She gasped. Bliss and freedom overwhelming her body. She writhed under the strokes of the Dominus, delighting in the release to be free of her heart’s demons in a way he knew how to extract.

The clustered cane made such a noise that even Marcena winced with each crack. But Rachel didn't ease up on her, working Marcena up to near orgasm and held the girl there while Trenton gave to Rachel all that she needed.

“If you had one wish right now what would it be, Rachel?” Trenton whispered in her ear.

Rachel was bringing her soaked fingers up to tempt Marcena to lick, but she heard the question and she grasped the girls face in her fingers with a tight grip, “Please Dominus, Harder.” She breathed into the girl's mouth then kissed her hard, sinking her tongue past Marcena’s lips to taste her tongue and teach it how to dance with her own. Her hand forcefully held the girl so she could not escape her deep probing kiss and a yelp was suddenly trapped between them when Trenton’s next swing came down dangerously hard aimed in perfect placement across the thickest part of her thighs and another over the soft curve of her ass.

Katianna held on just as she had earlier, but she was mesmerized, horror and awe as the woman started crying—uncontrolled subbing soaked the sides of her face, causing her hair to cling in places and still she pleaded for more. The harder the bamboo slapped against Rachel’s skin the more she seemed to want it. It was utterly frightening. That such an act would bring someone to orgasm, but it was and Katianna could hear Rachel’s’ panting mixed with sobbing need, as it drew close.

Katianna watched Trenton. It was like watching Hamlet on the stage. This play of pain, suffering and horror uttered out through the actor’s body and still the audience would cheer at the end. Trenton was perfectly in balance with everything around him. This was what he did—brought pleasure in a way an outsider could never understand. The act itself so deeply intimate for Rachel to trust Trenton to deliver the bamboo across her body in perfect control to give her the painful pleasure she needed and still leave her skin undamaged. Equally that Trenton would know just how much she could take.

This was the part of his life she knew existed, but had never really witnessed. How many times had she shifted in her seat when the conversation was struck about caning? She could only bring up images of her own experience—a young girl getting punished by her mother. But that wasn’t what this was. She was seeing for the first time what they felt—the indefinable pleasure they received from it. Not that she could share in such pleasure, she was still very certain she did not want Trenton to do this to her, but now she saw what it was for them and it wasn’t as frightening anymore. Well maybe still.

A final swing of the cane and Rachel cried out, her body quivering with ecstasy as her release took over her body. Marcena was also trembling, her back arched under the woman who controlled her now. The muscles in their arms and legs tightened, straining against the restraints and they gyrated against each other, comforting each other as the last of the orgasm trembled through their bodies.

Rachel’s head dropped and Katianna could hear her tears. Fambleush was suddenly there rolling Rachel over into his arms, a gentle hand brushing her soaked hair from her face and discovered a blissful smile. “You’ll thank him for me wont you?” A weak yet bliss voice whispered.

“Oh I certainly will.” His arousal thick and heavy in his voice. “You ready to go to bed?” He asked and she nodded with a near drunk expression.

“We are too.” He smiled.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

Katianna sat sideways in the back seat as they rode back to their hotel, her head tipped back on the seat. She looked at Trenton, angled back in the corner his legs stretched out diagonally across the seat, looking very relaxed and content.

He was watching her as well; his thoughts off in some deeper world of thought. So deep she could not discern any specific expression or emotion on his face. After some time he suddenly spoke up, quiet, but relatively out of the blue. “Sorry about that early.” He offered some small token apology.

She puzzled not certain what he was apologizing for.

“Your hand. I just wanted—” but paused, almost a smile, a gleam in his eyes perhaps. It was hard to be sure in the dark vehicle with hardly even a light from the highway lamp posts shining in.

“It felt—well I’m sorry anyways.” It was flat as he said it—he wasn’t sorry. She knew this. He was just saying in case she was actually upset about it. But really what she was thinking was why he never approached her—for attention—sex—anything
but
the beating he had given to Rachel. He obviously had no problems sharing his body and letting a woman take and give pleasure. So why was it he never looked to her to do the same? 

Oh he looked at her—sometimes she thought for sure he was ready to pounce, but other than the other night at La Rouge Nuit when he’d had too much to drink, he never did. Was it his willful attempt to
perceive,
as he always put it
in his favor
a losing ground that she was a client and therefore that line could never be crossed? Or was it only because she was not a Sub in his world therefore not on a menu he was capable of ordering from? If so that really sucked. She knew what to do with a lollipop.

She felt the urge to ask a question taking a surging breath as if building up courage to do so, not certain why it felt that way. “How many Languages do you speak?”

He grinned it was almost a sleepy one. Incredibly content—had she ever seen him like this before?

“Five—French, Spanish, Breton, Farsi, Chechnya and Latin.”

“Why so many?”

“Diesel’s mom is a linguist. She use to work as a translator for the military. She raised us learning languages. Deez is a natural like her. He just picks them up like some people pick up rocks. In addition to the five I named he also speaks, German, Mandarin, Greek and Portuguese.”

His grin deepened and she let out a sound. The kind you make when you laugh, but your mouth doesn’t move and she dropped her head once again against the seat just looking at him.

“I guess you know Latin. Did you ever learn or try to learn another language?”

“Just the Latin. But I only know how to read it, not very good at the
saying
part.” A subtle shake of her head slowly falling into thought or just sleepy resting.

They sat quiet for a long time just staring at each other or well he was staring. Her eyes were starting to fall.

“Tired?” He asked some long moments later.

“Very.” She smiled back at him.

“Me too.” He grinned. And didn’t bother to comment further about the night or ask if she was okay with it. He left her to her own processes. This was who he was; he made no excuses or exclusions.

And oddly she was discovering she was just fine with that.

Back at their hotel room, while she had told herself she was fine; that did not mean it did so quietly in her mind. She tossed in her bed, tired yet unable to sleep. Her mind recounting the evening and the four girls kneeling at Fambleush’s feet. Katianna had never really believed there were still slaves in the world and she’d never heard of happy ones. But mostly what went through her head was this was Trenton’s world and she couldn’t see how she might find a place in it for her. She wasn’t a Sub and she definitely wasn’t a Slave. She had no desires to be whipped, or bound or go into a contract of service. Had Trenton ever had any woman by any others means? Had he ever had just a girlfriend per say?

Over the years she had seen him with several girls, girls he always referred to as Subs in training, often for someone specific, but she couldn’t recall of anyone being around for very long or that he seemed deeply attracted to or gave any deeper affection then he did with any other. Was this all there was to have in a relationship with him? Could there ever be more? Would he ever desire her company however vanilla? Even if she didn’t consider herself to be a dull lover, she would for obvious reasons seem so to him.

It seemed her only connection with him was when he was her bodyguard. God she felt like her chest was going to cave in. Why would she feel like this?

Finally she got up and made her way through the dark over where Trenton was sleeping on the Day bed sofa in her room. Where he had willfully done so since the bomb threat. They had had two more since then and
as he put it
wasn’t taking any chances that she might lock the door or have her ear phones on and he’d have to break the door down again to reach her.

He stirred when she stepped next to him and stared down at him.

He blinked a few times just watching her, her silent stance like she was waiting for something. Did she need something? Was something troubling her? He couldn’t tell what she wanted or needed only that there was some deep need hiding in her eyes, but she uttered not a word. Finally he pulled the covers open and motioned her to crawl in next to him and she silently did so.

As if it was the most natural thing for her, she curled up against his side nestling between him and the back of the sofa. He could feel the slight shiver in her as if she was cold, but she wasn’t, that was her nervous nature shaking in there. Still she said nothing and so he could offer her nothing. He could not answer a question she did not ask. Could offer nothing till he knew what she needed. But that she had come to him, that even in the middle of the night she needed him for security from her own mind, drew him closer to her.

His arm tightened around her, his fingers grazing her arm, feeling the tenseness of her muscles ease some. He grieved that she was still not ready for his world, to be in his life. Only in this moment could he hold her, shelter her in his arms while her mind tried to process what she tormented over, the part of his life she had witnessed tonight.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

It was Friday now and the week had not been going well for Amelia summit meeting. More protestors where gathering at the Firm that was expected to come to its final determination by the end of the day on whether the two plants ran by Ümran Global Endüstrisi would close or remain in operation.

Trenton’s position to protect Amelia and Katianna was challenged at a number of levels. The threat to Amelia by the rioters was growing and required his presence for additional protection, but it also meant leaving Katianna with limited protection in the limo with the driver while he escorted Amelia inside the building where the summit was taking place.

In most incidences the protesters followed Amelia and her escorts, but yesterday morning's arrival, he’d come outside to find the limo on fire when a protestor had thrown a jar of burning alcohol on it. And while Katianna was far from injury Trenton could not say the same for her emotional well being. Even leaving her at the hotel was out of the question when several times the hotel received bomb threats and once someone parading as room service tried to break into their room to attack Amelia. 

It only infuriated Trenton further with Amelia's poor choice to bring Katianna to Paris in the first place, but there was no sense in rehashing the argument with the heiress. What was done was done and now Amelia had her own small hell to deal with.