Becoming His Slave (54 page)

She chewed at her lips as he pressed the lace panties down her legs, tapping at her feet one then the other for her to step out of them. “Wacoal—nice.” He whispered the designer name them tucked them into his pants pocket.

“No—Trenton? You’re keeping them?” She admonished that he’d dare steel her panties.

“I told you if you wanted to keep them you won’t wear them around me.” He stood, his fingers tracing up her legs right up to the entrance of her sex and flicked the lock charm that she’d left there. That pretty much brought her to near silence, only nearly because a small gasp did escape her lips. But her moan of need quickly turned to an expression of bewilderment when Trenton turned and dropped down on the sofa, throwing one foot up on his knee and just looked at her as if waiting on something.

Okay so why did she have this sinking feeling like she was in trouble or something? But he said nothing just looking at her. His arm resting over the arm of the sofa, the ever present arrogance like his dominance, it never ebbed.

“Are—we—not going out?” She tread carefully with her request.

“When you’ve turned over something.”

“You already took my panties, what else do you want?”

“The key.”

Her lips tightened at that, “The key to my jewelry lock?” She fiend,
yep
trouble confirmed she only hoped it was worth whatever he was going to do to her.

“I’ll take that one too.” He waited again.

Oh she really was in trouble wasn’t she? She chewed at her lip, silence was better than admission at this point. But Trenton and Diesel were just getting too full of themselves and needed some challenges thrown their way, better it came from a man as big and strong as Paris then from her. What could she possibly do?

“Key, Katianna.”

“House key?” She swallowed hard.
Oh shit what had Paris done?

“You already have two racked up, do you really want more?”

“More?” More what? She didn’t know, but her body was heating up with the impending danger he was obviously warning her of. Nervous, but submitting.
Oooo,
why was her body submitting?
Because you’re in trouble you twit. Stupid writer
.

Trenton rolled his lips, the internal struggle to not laugh at her as she shook in her shoes, like a nervous little poodle tempting fate, but not wanting to get caught. His cock aching to have what was already his. But she had set Paris loose, that was bad, and that she was holding out on him right now was equally unacceptable. As his slave, she would have to come to terms on this. Now was a good start. And she looked so cute and scrumptious at the mercy of her first lesson. “Katianna.” His voice drew up in a tight command that warned her timer was running out.

“Okay they’re both on the chain around my waist.” She stammered, dropping her head down instantly, maybe if she did the
eyes down
thing she wouldn’t be in as much trouble as she probably should be. Depending on what Paris did with his freedom.

“You used the key Diesel gave you for protection?”

She nodded, still keeping her eyes down. Trenton ran his finger across his lips, back and forth like a violin bow running across its strings, contemplating. There was a reason they’d given her the key. Recent attacks on women in the area had included handcuff bruises, so Diesel had given her and the women in his self defense class, keys and instructed them to wear them on a chain around their waist; a place where they could always get to it, regardless of whether their hands were bound in front or behind. So needless to say Trenton couldn’t take it, at least not feel good about it if he did. Her safety was first. Guess she would get that third spanking after all.

But looking at her now, if he even made a move in her direction she’d likely run and hide from him. Besides they were going to be late for their dinner reservations. “Come, let’s get going. We’ll address your punishment another time.”

It took some coaxing, but he did finally get her to take his hand and they headed out for their first official date and you couldn’t knock the smile from his face had you attempted to do so with a cannon.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

“A lion is most handsome when looking for food - Mevlana Celaleddin Rumi.” Katianna read the saying off the menu cover and shot a sided glance at Trenton. It was as if he’d planned this ahead of time or something. And she hadn’t forgotten the part about racking up punishment. She hadn’t even had her first date yet and already he was talking punishments and enjoying it. She shivered at the thought knowing a good bit of what he did to his slaves for punishment.

“What are you thinking?” Trenton grinned, toying with the thoughts that ran amuck in her mind.

“I’m thinking if I should run from you while I still can.”

“It’s already too late for that, Kat.” His voice dark and something else she could not quiet place but she was certain it meant just what he said. It was too late she belonged to him and he wasn’t going to let her go.  Her only choice was to learn to live in his world.

Trenton had taken her to a little known restaurant that served a fusion of Middle Eastern and Mediterranean dishes, where guests sat on low banquettes placed against the walls and on large pillows called ‘poufs’ on the floor inside small shell shaped alcoves, privacy was provided by heavy velvet drapes on the sides and swags of sheer mesh and lace across the front of each alcove. Food choices came in small dishes so it was easy to order several different things and not have too much food and you ate with their fingers or with bread, while belly dancers entertained throughout the night.

Katianna had never had Middle Eastern food before so Trenton ordered a variety of dishes, each one having its own unique taste. There were a few he read out from the menu she wouldn’t even accept the suggestion of trying. Finally he settled their selection and soon dishes of containing the exotic samples perfectly portioned for two people were brought to the table.

Poulet:
chicken served in a Moroccan stew, preserved lemon confit, olives and dried apricots.
Agneau:
was
lamb shank marinated in a citrus prune sauce with sliced almonds.
Canard
: a duck confit garnished with green olives, kumquat jam and toasted cumin seeds.
Goulash Bil Gibnah
a stuffed phyllo pastry with mushrooms, leeks, fresh herbs and
gibnah domiaty
. The crabmeat
Kofta
were Egyptian style cakes of lump blue crab meat, shrimp, leeks and scallions. And lastly a dish of lemon chicken couscous.

And as always Trenton enjoyed the meal by feeding it to her. After sampling each of the dishes and deciding which ones she liked best they dug in until they’d devoured most of the food then sat back on the pillows while he fed her a glass of wine and they talked.

“How did you get here?” She asked rather abruptly. She had always wondered and the more she learned of him, the more she wondered how it all came about. To own his own business and now to find out he owned an island, she knew he was well off, well she suspected it at least, given his tank on wheels, his clients, the club and every now and then someone would say something along the lines of him having a considerable amount of money or revenue. Not that she cared and he certainly didn’t flaunt it at least not in the true definition of flaunting, but when he saw something he wanted he never seemed to bat a lash about purchasing it and she was just curious how someone reached such easement in their life.

“I was in the Marines for a number of years; Diesel and I went in together and were trained as part of a five man sniper unit. Dane and Marcus were our Black Hawk pilots while Diesel, Harper and myself were the gun men. We’d won the lottery from a ticket we bought while on furlough, it was one of the largest jackpots in the New England area at the time. We gave ourselves some blow money then locked the rest up till we knew what we wanted to do with it. We still had another two years to go in the service so it wasn’t so hard. We invested a lot of it and by the time we got out we all had some idea of what we wanted and set about making it happen.”

“And
Pains
? How does that fit in?”

“Aside from Dane being the owner which you know. We all—all five of us have a— shall we say a deep lust for life.” He grinned, “I, along with the others am an investor—both
Pains
and the other two clubs,
Flesh
and
Stilettos.
The clubs provide a feeding ground for us.”

“
Feeding ground
—interesting analogy.”

Trenton’s gaze dropped over to her feet, decked out in the wicker braided leather that encaged her feet up to her ankles. He reached over taking them from the pillow they were graced over and pulled them into his lap. “Lay back.” He whispered not looking at her, but kept his attention on her feet at the moment. He caressed the smooth acrylic platform, up the arch and back down the stiletto heel, silently enjoying the contours. The shoes provided six inches on her height and even then she didn’t come up to his mouth. He liked her petit body and that even in the tallest of shoes she would still be his small little mouse. His hand cupped under her heel and pulled the ribbon free from the bow that secured the shoes around her foot. It was a nice touch to the design in place of a zipper that would only have disrupted the savage weave of leather cords that made up the cage.

He slipped the shoe from her foot and proceeded to stroke the underside of her arches. He messaged her feet absentmindedly, his thoughts more on her body and surprisingly on what they were talking about then on the tender attention he was giving her feet.

“So what about you?” he shifted the stage to her. There were still a number of things about her past he did not know and wanted to understand how they had affected her.

“I don’t know—I was always good at stories. I won a scholarship with a short story and I won another contest with the same story. It got a lot of attention during the start of the Iraqi war. NYU offered to double my scholarship it if I came to their school”

“What was the story?”

“
Dear Soldier, With Love
. It was about a letter written by an anonymous woman who’d written one last love letter and addressing it as nothing more than
Dear Soldier
. Because all her previous letters couldn’t find her lover who was missing in action. The letter landed in the hands of one who’d just recently gotten a recent
Dear John
and then he passed it on. The story follows the letter from one soldier to the next many of them writing back in their own way adding their correspondence to the ‘beloved woman’ as she became known until the letter and all the correspondences found the man she was looking for.

Trenton blinked, “Wow.” He was floored by this, he never heard her talk about any writing other than her erotica and she really didn’t even talk about that. “Does Deez know you wrote this?”

She gave him a puzzled look. “No— I don’t think so—why?”

He shook his head and moved on to another question not actually answering hers. “What made you think of that?”

“My mom use to write a lover letter for my pappy every year for his birthday and have one of the local fishermen take it out to deliver to the sea. And then at school one of the girls I knew wrote a
Dear John
letter to her fiancée who was in the gulf war at the time. And all I could think about was how selfish it was. He’s over there fighting a war and she had to dump him because she couldn’t keep her pants on.”

“So what about now? I mean with you, you have several books out now.”

“
Yeah, but still barely a notch above being a poor starving artist story. But living rent free helps, thanks to Amelia.”

He glanced down at her feet and then to the shoes he’d just pulled off moments ago, “Maybe you wouldn’t be so poor if you didn’t buy thousand dollar shoes?” He tickled the bottom of her foot to further that his tone was more to tease her then scold her.

Katianna giggled “I’ve had them for some time. Most of them anyways. I got from someone I dated a long time ago.” Her voice trailed off and she drew quiet telling Trenton she didn’t want to go down that memory lane. Amelia had once said Garrett had apparently done something to her and Trenton recalled the cocky model standing at the door with his admissions that he’d thrown her out. He wanted to know what had happened to her, but he could see it was still too soon.

“Sometimes I get things from Vashon. An outfit I’ve even gotten a couple pairs of shoes from him because he says I have cute feet and just because he’s a big fan and a friend.”

Trenton’s eyes narrowed, he felt a sudden twinge of jealousy that someone else was taking pleasure in her feet. He’d have to put a stop to that soon or monitor it himself and only if he decided to deem it as harmless. As far as he was concerned she was his and that included her feet. But Vashon was a question to ponder further, “Vashon is as gay as they come, your stories don’t have the right equipment in them to be of his liking.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy them for the story as well. There’s more than just sex scenes in my books nor does it mean the ones that are in them, won’t turn him on. Outside of Amelia I think Vashon is my number one fan. But I am working on a book that includes homoerotica.”

“Amelia certainly praises your work. Guess I need to take up reading
huh
?” and then it struck him how would she know how to write homoerotica. “How would you know how to write such material?”

Katianna shrugged twisting on the pillows to look at him without lifting up.

“Has your ass ever been made love to by a man?”

Katianna blanched at the question and he saw the force field go up as she kept silent. Trenton wasn’t about to let her wall up that tight and he reached over grabbing her waist and pulled her up over his lap. “Don’t clam up on me now little mouse, or I might have to drug you myself to get you to open up to me.” He pushed her arms behind her back crossing them and locking them tightly together with one hand. He smiled at her as she tested the perimeters of his hold. He knew what she had done; the jerk wasn’t near enough to attempt breaking free or to even be considered a struggle.
No
—she was simply testing his grip finding he had a firm enough grip on her.