Becoming His Slave (45 page)

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

Club Pain closed its doors early to the public that night and right away bar staff and friends prepared the downstairs area for the extravaganza gala of the year to celebrate one of the brother’s birthday. Each year they threw a big bash for one of the five brothers. Dane of course had been the first to be celebrated when the club first opened. Harper’s birthday was celebrated the following year than last year was Diesel’s turn. This year it was Marcus’s. And so the club was transformed, from night club into arena to accommodate the entertainment events that were about to begin in honor of the birthday boy. As always Dane and Trenton held memorable bashes, so friends were wired with excitement for things to get started.

While the food and liquors was brought in, the dance floor was transformed into an arena, gym mats laid out and fastened by Velcro and oiled down all in preparation for
the games
.

A throne was set up in the back in front of the Saint Andrews cross, and Marcus was lead out to take his place among his disciples.

Trenton took his place next to Marcus and called the night to order. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Doms and Subs, you have been brought here in honor of our Lord Magistrate of the Night—
(cheers)
— Head Master Marcus Scriven—
(more cheers)
— in celebration of this day when the Gods blessed the future slaves of our world with his birthing of dominant existence. People of Pain bring forth your offerings!”

And with his announcement a roar of laughter and bantering came and so did the gifts. First to lead the procession four Subs entered, carrying a female body laid flat on a stretcher, her body covered in a variety of fruits and deserts, and centered on her belly was the birthday cake and thirty-four candles. They carried her around the dance floor coming to a stop before the thrown. Marcus stood to receive the offering, discovering under all the sweet treats was Marcena. “Do I get to eat her too?”

Everyone broke out in laughter, even a giggle erupted from Marcena’s lips and then Marcus blew out the candles. He ran his fingers along her delicate sex then scooped up a handful of cake and shoved it into his mouth, “Eat up!” He announced, “But the girl is mine.” Adding further proclamation.

Dane stepped forward with an offering of two bottles of
AsomBroso
brand tequila one a
Platino
silver, the other a
La Rosa
flavor which was a unique pink color, the bottles themselves had a largely phallic shape to them.

“What is this?”

“Top tequila and you can always use the bottle for other things, in case your
wanker
is losing its stamina with old age.” Dane mocked him.

“And you call yourself a loyal subject.” Marcus grimaced at the humor taken against his age and his cock.

“Absolutely. That’s why I gave you two.” He slapped Marcus on the back then hugged him.

Diesel was up next and offered him a wrapped box. When opened, Marcus found a Star Wars electronic version of the board game Battleship. “Okay what’s this for?” Marcus scratched at his head, leery of even asking.

“Oh yeah—” Diesel fidgeted then dug into his front pocket then pulled out a pill bottle then set it down in front of him. “Almost forgot the most important part.”

Marcus picked up the bottle reading the label, “Viagra?”

“Yep.” Diesel nodded infectiously, but not a hint of the prank intended.

“And the game?”

Diesel nodded, “So you have something to keep the girl entertained, while you wait for the Viagra to kick in.” and that got everyone roaring. Marcus only hung his head.

Harper came up handing over his gift. Marcus had already grown reluctant, but dutifully opened the next package, an electronic Pro Bass fishing rod game. He looked at Harper knowing there was a joke just waiting to be announced.

“For fly fishing, I heard somewhere that old guys do that.” He shrugged.

“You guys are killing me. Enough gifts now, I want entertainment.”

“The magistrate speaks!” Diesel announced and Trenton quickly took the queue and turned to his audience, “People of Pain! In his honor—I give you—the Gladiator Games!”

The room filled with loud blusterous cheers and roaring.

“Match one!” Trenton called out.

Cliff, the young blonde who yearned for high rank among the Doms, stepped down to the dance floor turned arena. He had not been given a direct invitation, but his request to enter the match to establish some much needed levity got him in. His lack of rank among the Doms put him at the lowest of competition; he first had to win a Sub match just to establish recognition of a Dom, which meant he was first up. But he was having some serious second thoughts when the Dominus’ new slave Paris stepped down to oppose him.

“Aw come on Cliffy—not scared are you?” Sasha was suddenly against his back, goading him in his ear. Cliff gulped. The man was huge, fucking to die for gorgeous as far as guys go, but he was a monster of a man. Six-four the man stood eye to eye with Dominus but damn… he had to have another five or six inches on his shoulders and his arms were nearly as thick as Cliff’s own thighs. He caught himself looking down just to measure. Hell he didn’t stand a chance against this one.

“Why fret he’s still just a slave.” Sasha teased.

“A slave more than twice my size.” Cliff muttered. Losing what little confidence he had.

“Better butter up good then,
aye
?” Sasha popped Cliff’s already naked ass. “Don’t worry if you fail to become a Dom I’ll take you on as one of my Subs. I can feed you to my twin boys.”

Cliff glared at him,
motherfucker
he’d show ‘em. And he stepped up for the challenge.

Paris glanced at the lean man before him, slender with a little muscle—like a runner or something of that nature. He wasn’t skin and bones, but facing the odds, about the only thing the young blonde had going for himself right now was a decent dick, which at the moment was seemingly passive.

“What are the rules?” Paris asked, feeling Diesel behind him.

“Wrestle the next man down. First one to cum is the winner.”

“
Topper
games.”

“You’ve played?”

“I went to college.” Paris answered smugly, a hint that he’d used many of them to get his jollies with a few straight guys.

“Well Cliffy here has to beat you to earn Dom recognition. So he’s your first piece of ass.” He slapped the condom wrapper into his palm.

Paris tore the package and slowly rolled it down his cock stroking at it lightly. He was already hard, been that way since he got up that morning and between Diesel and Trenton they’d seen to it he stayed that way. Now he knew why. He’d only heard them use the word
games
, but every time he asked, they simply told him he’d find out soon enough. That was always the answer—
find out soon enough.
Waiting was part of the experience.

But this one? Paris looked Cliff over again. He would be easy. And there would be no sense in spilling his seed to win the match either. Cliff had to
top
no matter what to get his status. Paris just had to put him on the
bottom
for a minute and his opponent’s hopes of topping were over. He knew they wouldn’t bother check the condom, they never did except when the stakes were high and the match a close run. Now that he understood what was in store for him tonight, he was certain he and Derek would have at it.

“I think I’ll fuck this one standing up.” Paris boasted loudly then stepped forward.

“Lord Magistrate!” Diesel shouted to get everyone’s attention, “The gladiators are ready for your command.”

Marcus grinned shaking his head; this one was going to be over in seconds. He’d already had the pleasure of watching Paris at the house. The man was a beast.

Marcus raised his hand, the room fell silent, his hand dropped.

Paris surged forward stooping down and instantly had Cliff off the ground, both legs caught in his arms and lifted him, “You ever dream about being fucked by a bull?” He goaded his prey.

“Fuck.” Cliff struggled jerking with a curse, but he couldn’t break his legs free. The man’s arms were like vice grips around him, “You don’t have me yet.” He tried to argue that he still might have a chance.

“Oh, I think I do.” Paris dropped him down over his cock pushing into the tight hole. The man in his clutches writhed, cried out, but his hands held on around his neck, “
Arhhg
—” Paris growled, “You got a fucking tight ass, but I got all of my nine inches in you now.” Paris started pumping, he wasn’t going to spill, but he was going to enjoy some of it while he was there. His audience began to chant with each thrust.

Cliff moaned, pain turning pleasure and it flashed over his body, startling the hell out him mentally. He couldn’t handle the storming pleasure and let go of Paris’ neck and fell backwards till his hands brushed the mat floor and hung upside down, his ass stayed right where it was, locked onto the massive cock, pinned in place by steel arms and the thrusting cock.

The audience roared at the sight, of the fallen angel fucking the other man while standing up and had accomplished it seconds flat.

A roar broke from Paris lungs as he tossed his head back to give the effect of his victorious climax, jutting his knees to implicate his muscle-locking orgasmic spasms.
Who said a man couldn’t fake it?

He slowly let Cliff slip to the mat than raised his arms over his head in triumphant manner, cock still hard and ready for the next one. More roars and cheers met his ears, filling his ego. While several of the Doms tended to Cliff leading him away with care, vanity filled Paris with surging power while lust burned in his eyes like wildfires as he turned to face Diesel. His thoughts instantly envisioning a wrestling match with the Patronus. The energy and his own fantasy had his chest heaving deep and hard. He stepped from the arena floor at the wave of Diesel’s hand and knelt at his feet gladly. Smug didn’t even describe the half of it. And rewarded himself by burying his face in Diesel’s crotch, catching his jeans in his teeth and tugged hard, tossing his head like a dog with his toy and he let out a heated growl.

The very act had Diesel heating up to taste the man, set him loose on his own body. He took a deep breath and chewed on his lip then reluctantly eased Paris from him. But the man had already left an erotic imprint in his mind, one that threatened to grow.

“Of course no Magistrate should ever have to do without his own slave!” Trenton stepped up announcing from his soap box, his arms out stretched wide towards the sidelines and Rachel, the slave Fambleush had brought to appease him with, stepped forward.

Rachel walked up with a graceful gate until she stood before the Dominus facing the Lord for the night and Trenton’s hand fell upon her shoulders turning to address Marcus, “So my Lord Magistrate to honor you and the next thirty days I bequeath this gift to you.” He bowed playfully then pushed Rachel towards him.

Marcus was laughing, but his cock was also aching for the woman. He sat up in his throne and waved her into his lap, instantly kissing her skin and shoulders as she melted into his arms then broke out into an all out attack of tickles on her. Rachel yelped wriggling in his arms till she managed to break free and slink down to the floor at his feet. Where she remained, not trying to escape further, but taking the moment to catch her breath and rein in her laughter.

Marcus grinned ear to ear, “I accept your gift as a righteous gift for a Lord.” He quipped back to Trenton. His hand pulling his new slave to sit up and he petted her into sweet submission at his feet. “More entertainment.”

“Match two.” Diesel announced its readiness.

Once again Trenton stepped up to the forefront to address the crowd, “People of Pain!” Trenton shouted at them like he was shouting at the mob in a Roman arena, “Are you ready for the next battle?” Cheers and roars came as heated response from all. “Then with no further ado… I give you Club Pain’s very own and loyal subject, Derek.” He waved an arm to one side as the bartender Derek stepped down to the mat floor. “And I give you—” But before he could announce the name of the intended competitor, Paris was at the side of the arena pulling the man intended for the match back and stepping forward.

“This one’s mine.” Paris growled and it was welcomed with a lusty wink from Derek.

“I accept.” Derek smirked in response.

Trenton looked his slave over and knew there was no pulling him back, and to do so would disappoint his audience as well. Can’t have that. “And I give you Paris.”

“Magistrate!” Diesel called for the attention of Marcus, but when he turned he fell short of his words. Marcus was not at all attentive to the next match his head dropped back, hands wrapped around the tussle of brunette ringlets of hair spilled over his lap, bobbing over his cock. Panting he waved his hand, more to wave everyone away then to announce the next match to begin then his attention went back to the face hidden under all the hair.

Trenton looked away trying to imitate some form of composure, but when he felt Diesel practically tumble against his back with his own laughter, he couldn’t hold it in any longer, but his hand quickly went to his gut to hold it compressed under the pressure of his laughing. Diesel’s arm draped over his shoulder holding him steady and hugging him at the same time. “Okay, stop laughing before I have to kick your ass.”

Trenton managed to choke down the laughter and turned back to his audience, “Okay—since the magistrate is busy testing out his new slave I call this match to start.” And he waved his hand down to signal the start.

As the match commenced, Trenton noticed Amelia sitting ring side. He was not aware she had stayed, though she had been invited to.
But oh hell
, if she was still here that meant Katianna was too. His eyes instinctively moving for the booth, but it was empty. Then he spotted her in the corner peeking over everyone else. “Deez take over a minute.” He waved him up and headed off to snare his mouse.