Becoming His Slave (70 page)

“And it doesn’t piss him off that Trenton is the Dominus?”

“Who do you think appointed him the title?”

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Katianna hadn’t entirely recovered when Trenton decided it was time they went to mingle in the hotel lounge. She was talking and perhaps a little pouty about her public performance, but she did well to hide that from watchful eyes. But she was far from walking, so Trenton took delight in carrying her. His performance in front of so many had afforded him the freedom to do so without scrutiny and he was feeling rather smug about the whole thing. Truth was, he was smiling ear to ear as he carried his mouse around, that he put her in such a zone that so far was lingering into a little over an hour and still counting.

Once Katianna finally was able to walk Trenton socialized with his guests and as he had instructed her beforehand, she remained silently, shadowing his every step. When he wanted her to move, his hand instinctive moved her as he saw fit, without a word or single command. Not once introducing her to anyone and true to his word no one made any attempt to touch her.

Paris was another matter. The man naturally
peacocked,
even when he was attempting to be as submissive as Diesel and Trenton had instructed him to be, but that only add to his allure. To the guests he was a
bound god
; men of Paris’ looks weren’t entirely rare to the world of Hedonism, but for one of his looks to be a slave was nearly unheard of. And more than a few risked a touch of him, along with nearly a dozen or so offers to purchase him.

After circling around the guests once, they took a table to the lobby where Rashawn Matisse joined them, his father having already retired for the night. After a few drinks, Trenton and Rashawn wandered off back into the lounge when they spotted Alan Pridmore.

Trenton soon returned and without hesitation reclaimed his mouse and took free rein of her lips. He cupped her face in his hands and moved his mouth first one way then another to experience her mouth from every angle, never breaking contact with her. At last he drew back, leaving her mouth swollen and her senses drugged as if the
zone
effects had never dissipated.

It was getting late, but Trenton didn’t want to move as he sat next to Diesel, his closest friend and brother with his unicorn in his lap and somehow Paris fit in there as well. It was too comfortable. Everything just seemed to fit perfectly, even when the bonds had not been completed he knew this is what it would look like when it did.

He glanced at Diesel, who looked perfectly comfortable connecting with Paris, though he could see Diesel still maintained some reservations. Training for a man who was not in truth intended to be a slave or a Sub, reserve was necessary. It was also losing ground as Diesel allowed Paris some room to play that evening.

Being pressed against Diesel’s back was like an open invitation for Paris who continued to inch his way past the boundaries Diesel had kept him at for so long. When the Patronus made no move to stop him, he closed in more, till finally he had his arms wrapped around Diesel’s waist, his thumbs lightly caressing at the man’s abs and he tucked his chin on Diesel’s shoulder as they talked.

Paris kissed at Diesel’s neck and along the backs of his shoulders, taking in a long deep breath of the man’s scent. “Damn you smell so good.”

“And how is it that I smell?” Diesel’s voice, like a stroke over Paris’ senses invited him to play further.

Paris took another deep inhale, letting it out as his senses mapped out every detail of the man. “I can still smell the spicy Tarocco cologne you put on earlier. It was hot earlier out at the pool and you built up a sweat so I can smell the saltines of your skin.” He paused taking another inhale letting his nostrils flare with the scent. “You’ve been hard all day. Your musk is driving me crazy and something citrusy—that I can’t identify.”

“Grapefruit and bitter orange. It’s in the cologne. It breaks up the headiness of the other spices, makes the skin tasty. Not unlike the fragrances you like to wear that makes you smell good enough to eat.”

“But I am good enough to eat.” Paris kissed him again with a chain of moist heated kisses along the base of the neck, “You should try me.” He whispered with a heated breath and with that Paris dared to allow himself more. His hand that had so naturally wrapped around Diesel’s hip pushed down to grope at the man’s thigh and when Diesel didn’t stop him he moved it up to grasp the already established erection trapped in his slacks, the pushing bulge that had been teasing his eyes all day. Paris could feel the thickness of Diesel’s cock, the impeccable size was overwhelming and it surged his burning hunger even higher, and began stroking against the hardening flesh under the fabric, wishing he could wrap his fingers around him and discover his true girth. “Damn. You’re hung like a giant.” His mouth rolled into Diesels head and sucked at his ear lobe. His whole body felt so alive and he let out a salacious growl. His fingers grasped the tab on the zipper and eased it down. Then tucked under the waist band of his brief and held them out so he could peak down at the swollen red cap looking back up at him. “It’s beautiful. I wish I could see all of it.” His hand pressed harder against the hard shaft, “Touch it, feel its velvety texture in my hand.”

“Paris.” Diesel gave him a mild warning. He’d allowed Paris to get where he was because it felt good, but the over sized imp was about to take him beyond his allowance for public showing.

Paris barely heard his name being said, his blood coursing through his veins ringing in his ears. He wanted this man so badly, to have him in his arms now to be allowed a free rein of touch—it was too much to contain anymore. His chest heaving to keep air in his lungs, he was seconds from pulling Diesel to the floor and fucking him and be fucked by him, till they were both screaming. Lust, adrenalin and need stormed inside him. He let out a low throaty growl into Diesel’s neck. “Your slave wants you.”

Hell the master wanted his slave
. For the first time in a long time Diesel was certain that he’d found someone who could handle his own appetite. Paris certainly was igniting his desires, driving the lava to purge over. To that he had no doubt, but he also knew all too well that if Paris could take him, he would start bonding with him instantly and Paris would be leaving in a few days.

“Paris, stop.”

“Dammit no. I want you inside me. I want to be inside you.” Paris was fighting with himself now. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to stop. He wanted like he had never wanted before. Had never desired as he desired Diesel. He was going to go insane if he didn’t have him. But that Diesel had allowed him to get this far, to get this worked up over him before reining him back—he didn’t want to lose that. He shifted his hand from the heated lust in Diesel’s pants sliding up to clench at the wash board belly.  “Yes, Patronus.” Still touching him, but following command at the same time. He bit down on Diesel’s shoulder groaning to show how hard that was on him, the anguish, painful lust that lay siege inside him. “Just don’t command me to withdrawal. I don’t think I can.” Paris kissed the back of his neck again, then again. No—he would not be able to withdrawal, but he would stop his forward impulse. And Diesel rewarded him with his hand over his, tucking it under his shirt nurturing that lingering area and sharing it with him.

Paris had no doubts that his lust for life could easily feed Diesel’s and he was certain Diesel had made that same conclusion. He dropped his head along the back of Diesel’s shoulders and let out a long shuddered breath. Everything sizzled with need. It was also a painful revelation that his Patronus still kept him at arms length and he didn’t understand why when he could clearly tell the man was equally hard for him. He took another deep breath, holding it, then let it out to idle his lust down to a barely controllable level. He wasn’t certain how much longer he could muster that one.

Diesel had to admit to himself he was beyond temptation to take Paris. It was any wonder why he didn’t drag the man under the table just now. Hell he was more than likely to rape the man in the elevator before they ever made it back to their room. Even if they did manage getting that far, there was no way either of them would get any sleep once they did reach their room. They were both hard for each other. Lust burning so hot there would be no reason for them to not go at each other like a couple of sex starved demons.

He couldn’t allow that to happen. He wasn’t comfortable going up to their room, knew all too well he couldn’t trust himself to hold back and that Paris wouldn’t even try.

Diesel recalled seeing Sasha earlier, he was a paramedic and just happened to be on the EMT team they had contracted to remain on site during the event. Sasha would understand and possibly have something to help.

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“I can’t for the life of me understand why you would want to keep turning that down Patronus.” Sasha shook his head at Diesel with disbelief. “But I don’t have anything to help you with. You might want to talk to Cliff though, he’s here too. He worked a double today and I know they had a call for a couple of kids super high on drugs. He always takes the stuff. You should ask him.”

“Takes their drugs? Why?”

Sasha shook his head, “I know he has his reasons, but they’ll have to come from him. Sorry Patronus.”

Diesel went out to the lobby then into the small side room the hotel had given over as a temporary first aid room where he found Cliff.

Diesel hit him up with the same request he had for Sasha and was offered a small pill of Rohypnol known on the streets as
rufis
. “This is a date rape drug Cliff. Why the hell would you have these? And you better fucking answer me, because having something like this when you want to be a Dom, it doesn’t look good.”

Cliff took a long breath and let it out like a weary sigh, “My baby sister has leukemia. Medicare doesn’t cover everything for her, like palliative care. So I keep anything and everything I can get my hands on, some I give to her some I sell or trade to get what she does need. This shit… gives her several days of painless sleep.”

Diesel’s mental anguish drew back almost instantly. He had heard Cliff had custody of his sister, something about their parents packed up and left them when Cliff was barely 19. He didn’t know they had left their ailing child to be cared by him. “I’m sorry. I understand now.”

“No apologies, it’s not like I talk about it all the time. Just be careful with that and don’t mix it with more than 2 ounces of alcohol. It’s too risky after that. And don’t take any citrus juice primarily grapefruit juice.”

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“Well, well, well, so this is where you ended up at.” Blaine Davenport, the lead handler from the resort, stepped up to the bar where Paris waited for Diesel to return before they headed up for their room. “Damn Paris you do make up for a very appetizing Sub.”

Paris tried not to roll his eyes. He should have anticipated this, but until now it had slipped his mind that Blaine would be the one to accompany Alan for the auction.

Blaine as always had his bull whip with him and used it to stroke Paris’ thigh as he looked him over. Circling around him. “Damn Paris, you were amazing to look at before, but now studded out as a slave—I’m going to start drooling any second now to see your reaction under the crack of my whip.” Blaine took a step back raising his arm back, but before he could swing someone caught him at the wrist. He whirled finding the stout muscular man standing at his side, his wrist locked firmly in the man’s grip.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Diesel was calm, but roared supremacy as he held fast to Blaine’s wrist even as he tried to jerk free.

“Just surprised to come across an acquaintance of mine.”

“Of yours you say? And that gives you the right to strike him?”

Alan Pridmore spotted trouble on the horizon right away and rushed up to prevent its development as quickly as he could. “Patronus Gentry. I see you’ve met Blaine Davenport, our master handler down at the resort.” Alan made quick with resetting the stage without pinpointing Diesel as an owner. That’s how they had all wanted it. While Paris, himself included knew the members of the board, Alan alone new all the owners. That knowledge was not so readily passed on to the staff. Handlers included.

Paris’ presence came as a surprise no doubt, but that he wound up in the hands of the island’s owners was an even bigger surprise. One he did not want Blaine inadvertently causing trouble with. It wasn’t like Blaine to cause trouble anyways. He was a good man and an exceptional handler, but Paris was a temptation to nearly everyone on the island. To such a point there was an unspoken contest to see who got him to their bed first. And Blaine was not immune to Paris’ lusty aura anymore than the rest of them.

“
Handler you say? Does he not know to keep his hands off of private property.”

“Priva—” Alan’s hand shot up to silence Blaine’s outburst. Arguing this would not be productive and would only lead to someone losing their job and he didn’t count on that being Paris at this time. “We look forward to tomorrow’s auction. Enjoy your night Patronus Gentry.” Alan made quick farewells and lead Blaine away, best to make haste and be done with it.

Diesel pulled Paris down to the end of the bar away from everyone else and directed him to the floor, “Did you start that?” Diesel was doing all he could to rein himself in. Just seeing the man preparing to take a strike at Paris had his blood boiling and perhaps surged a streak of jealousy in him as well.

“I did not. But he does know who I am and it was probably too much of temptation as well as a surprise.” Diesel only half listened as he order two shots of tequila, then dropped half of the pill he gotten from Cliff into one of them. He ran his fingers through Paris’ hair as he waited for the pill to dissolve. Paris was instantly rubbing against Diesel’s thigh taking to his touch as if they had never stopped from earlier.