Becoming His Slave (77 page)

Trenton’s breath was shredding and he grunted like a feral animal. The rapture that threatened like a storm, the kind of storm fishermen told stories about—
the white squall
. A wave that reached up and pushed your sails in the water.

That’s where Trenton was, his sails where pushed all the way over—pushed into the water by the hot mouth of a man who had manage to overpower him and steel his satisfaction from him. He was going to cum and Paris knew he had him close. Sucking harder, working for that tantalizing prize from his body.

Trenton felt the explosion coming, felt his hips bunch up.
Hell no,
if he was going to cum in this man’s mouth, he was going to do so under his own will, not his.

“Fuck you! I’m going to shoot down your throat!” And with his command Paris released his wrists. Trenton’s hands shot around grabbing Paris by the hair, fisting into it. Even his wrists clamped around the man’s head and he leaned in pumping violently into Paris’ mouth with nothing less than a brutal return of what the other man started. Trenton’s grunts filled the air around them with each driving thrust down his throat one—two—
oh fuck its coming
—three.

Trenton’s hips jammed forward locking in a savage bow against Paris’s face, his shoulders recoiling back as his semen shot out in a pulsating ribbon of release and he fell back against the wall. He cried out like some animalistic caveman, growling and breathy. As the last of his orgasm shot out in a painful blast. He felt his body go, felt the sensation of falling. He tried to catch himself, but his legs—they weren't there.  And he went helplessly crashing to the floor in a loud thud.

The cruel popping loss of Paris' mouth around him replaced by cool vacant space.

Long moments of thoughtlessness as he laid there, only the combination of his heavy breath and those of the slave at his feet. No comprehensive thoughts or emotions.

More long moments and still no thoughts. Was time even moving, did someone keep count?

The echo of two boys playing in a pool testing each other to see who could hold their breath the longest.

… Whadda ya wanna do now?
—
I know, we could wrestle like the Roman gladiators
—
Okay
—
What do we fight for?
—
Loser has to do the victor’s homework for a week
—
Nah, raise the stakes. Loser has to suck the victor’s johnny
—
Trenton recalled the long ago memory of two boys wrestling, butt naked in the back yard and the battle went on forever locked in each other’s grip. A stalemate tangle in each other’s arm. And they kissed finding each other’s tongue. The taste of it so good and frightening at the same time and they pulled apart fearfully
—
Deez
—
Yeah Trent
—
I don’t think we should tell anyone about this, okay?
—
Yeah okay
—

Trenton brought a hand up raking though his hair, his other absently wrapping around his cock and lightly stroked it back to the half mass thickness he liked to keep it at, restoring his demeanor. His boot kicking out catching Paris in the chest, “On your belly! Face down on the floor Slave!”

Dammit he needed Katianna back or he was going to barrel down a self destructive path, slow demoralizing damage, a fate worse than a drug addiction.

Paris watched the Dominus pull himself back together like the lose thread in a seam, pulling the pieces of fabric back together like you would string a corset tight. Even when completely taken over, swept off his feet and scattered to the wind, the man’s strength held like a web and quickly and effortlessly restored itself.

It was magnificent.

What he’d give to submit to all the other pleasures that this man could deliver at this moment. Paris licked at his lips savory the last drops of Trenton’s flavor dark and fully male. “She was right you know.”

“She? Right about what?” Trenton’s voice cracked.

“She described you as tasting like a summer storm after midnight. I wanted to know what that tasted like. I couldn’t let you send me away till I had tasted that.” Paris lowered face down as ordered.

She
.

She—meaning his Katianna. His little mouse with a talent for writing exquisite fantasies. Many of which she had never experienced herself, but how her readers adored the worlds she lured them into like the Pied Piper luring the little boys—and he had never read a single one of her books. He didn’t want her make believe stories. He wanted her.

God he was going to die without her.

Trenton got to his feet taking an assessment of the ruined front of his pants, the clasp gone, the zipper and fabric alike rendered from its threads. He stepped over to the man lying obediently face down on the floor. He tucked a boot into his arm pit and flipped him over to his back. “Well don’t you take mutinous behavior to a new level.”

Paris licked his lips with a slow wicked sweep of his tongue, belying his lack of guilt at the moment. It had been too good, too rich to regret.

“Hope you enjoyed it well it enough to considered it worth what I’m going to do to you.”

“Fucking me will only be a reward.” His breath deepening in anticipation as if he might get his just ached for.

Trenton’s gaze tightened as he stared down at the large man. “On the bed now and take your shirt off.” Trenton was firm, his voice calm and quiet, ridged like his cock. He even went as far as to stroke himself while Paris did as told and moved to the bed. His eyes never leaving Trenton’s hand or the hard steel he palmed, as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it from his shoulders tossing it to the floor. He toed his shoes off, then undid the button fly of his jeans.”

“I’ll do the rest, lie down and spread out.” And again Paris did as commanded stretching his arms and legs out to the four corners of the bed. His body tingling with renewed anticipation. That he had finally seduced the Dominus and was about to be taken by him.

“
God
, yes.” Paris let the heated expression escape his lips. His head falling back on the pillow. The thrill taking over his body with a warm tingle that rippled like a wake. His eyes following Trenton as he stepped around the bed fastening the leather shackles to his extremities, one at a time till both arms were strapped down tight keeping him splayed out. Trenton undid the last few buttons on Paris’ jeans gripping the waist in his fists and yanked them down with a hard jerk that sent heated shivers through Paris’ body. Freed from his ass and his hips, Trenton’s fingers glided against the flesh of his thighs slowly as he guided the denim down the remainder of Paris’ legs, freed his feet from denim and socks and let the garments fall to the floor with little regard to them and placed the last two shackles on Paris’ ankles.

Trenton stepped from the foot of the bed around to the head board his finger tips gliding up Paris’ body in a teasing glance. “Bad boys don’t get rewarded—” he knelt down beside the bed leaning over with his arms folded crossways on the mattress propped so close to Paris now, “But good girls—” Trenton grinned and it tightened when Paris’ head popped up with a shocked expression, “They get wishes granted.”

“No!” Paris thrashed against his restraints, “Don’t do this to me.”

“Steeling is not tolerated in my house.” Trenton stood back to his feet.

“But I don’t want a woman on my body—please. I‘ll do what I have to make up for it. Just don’t make me suffer at the hands of a woman.” He jerked throwing his weight first one way then the next, but the chains clipped to his shackles were not going to break for him no matter how hard he struggled.

Trenton stepped a knee up on the side of the bed towering over him, watching the painful storm of expressions of a man coming apart. “I’m not—” he lowered over Paris until he was only a breath away from Paris’ mouth, Trenton’s arms caging him in, pressing down in the bed to either side of his head.

Paris stilled under the radiation of control that emanated from the alpha male, but the exquisitely sweet panic was still there writhing just under the surface of his skin.

“I’m going to make you suffer under the hands of a Slave.”

Paris’ head came up, his mouth trying to reach for Trenton’s kiss, “No. Dominus.”  A pleading breath and more desperate struggles when Trenton eased back up, keeping out of his reach and beamed over him with victorious arrogance.

“Oh god, Dominus.” Paris’ hips bucked up with the arousal already stirring in him, his cock hardening, betraying him, but it wasn’t the news of a slave girl that stirred him, but that Trenton had come out of this still his Dominus, still the victor of wills. His loins responding to the control of the dominate male standing over him.

Trenton proudly left the large man, now coming apart under his command. Leaving him to his own thoughts to torture himself, while the real punishment hadn’t even shown her face yet.

Diesel glanced up and then took an instant double take at the rendered fabric of Trenton’s clothes as his brother came trodding down the stairs and headed for the laundry room. He had heard the commotion, but it hadn’t completely solidified till now. “Oh shit! Really?”

“Not that I am suggesting it, but his mouth will rock you off your axis if you let him.” He disappeared into the laundry room at the end of the hall then popped back out with a pair of Diesel’s jeans and was trading them out with his ruined slacks right there in the hallway. “Now I know why Dane kept coming back for more.” He glanced over at Diesel, “Where’s Marcena?”

“Upstairs. Why?”

“Make him think she gets to do whatever she wants to him, free rein for the entire night.”

“Ahh man I’m gonna watch that one.”

“You’ll have to, make sure he doesn’t disobey.” He yanked the jeans up over his hips and started on the button fly. “And he stays strapped for the night. Only one break for a shower and bathroom needs.”

“Should I encourage him with anything?”

Trenton tested the jean’s fit around him. Diesel was thicker all the way around and that he wore relax fit jeans made them fit all that much more loosely on his own frame. He dropped back on the wall, his eyes floating up to stare at the ceiling a moment letting the pain inside resurface, then glanced at Diesel and shook his head. “Since when do I ever give promises of rewards.” Then his voice drew hushed, “Besides its beautiful—every Dom’s dream how he tortures himself. The way he comes apart—” But even as he said it his mind was someplace else and that pain was no longer controllable. His head dropped.

Diesel got to his feet and went over to his brother sensing Trenton was about to come apart himself. “Trent?”

“I gotta go to the office then I’m going to Florida.”

“Bringing her back?”

Trenton straightened, his face suddenly dark with pain, “I have to try—I’m on a one way street to self destruct.”

“Good, but not until you’ve had some sleep first.” He held his arm out as if he intended to lure him from his spot by the shoulder.

Trenton took a side step dodging any attempt on Diesel’s part to dissuade him from his intentions.

Diesel straightened, his mouth tightened, “Don’t even think you’re going to fight me on this one. You’re drunk and you’ve been up all night. Sleep first. Then you can go.” Trenton stepped passed him, his hand out to block any breach from Diesel, but Diesel didn’t let that stop him and stepped after his brother. No way was he going to let Trenton leave in his condition and he was prepared to do whatever needed in order to assure it.

Trenton spun around, facing Diesel, but continued to step back heading for the back door. “Don’t even think about trying to stop me. I have to go after her. I’m losing it without her.”

“Fine I understand, but you’re not flying in your condition.” Diesel continued to close in on him.

“I am and that’s final!” Trenton was quick to rage out his defiance of any control from his brother.

“It’s not final.” Diesel wasn’t taking
no
for an answer and reached for him. Trenton slapped his hand away. He took another step back, but when Diesel stepped with him he swung. Diesel dodged then blocked the second swing and rushed in taking his brother around the rib cage, sending them both to the floor. And the wrestling match between them commenced.

“God dammit Deez get the fuck off me!”

“Not happening.” Diesel moved around to get in position.

Trenton once more took another shot. Diesel managed to catch his fist and locked it in his own grip, but then Trenton’s elbow came across and caught him hard on the side of his face, “That’s it.” Diesel leaned back still holding tight to Trenton’s arm pulling him over with him, his legs kicked up rapping around Trenton’s shoulders and head and with a twist of the arm he held, he had Trenton in a leg lock.

“Dammit Deez don’t do this! I need her.” Trenton’s struggles pinned between Diesel’s legs.

“I know, but you can’t fly a chopper drunk and on no sleep. You’re no good to her dead. I’ll let you go after you’ve had at least six hours of sleep.” Diesel kept calm still holding Trenton locked in the grip of his powerful legs. No amount of kicking would free him and slowly Trenton stopped trying.
Still
—the result was inevitable.

“I’m not going to sleep.” Trenton argued through clenched teeth.

“Yes you are.” And Diesel tightened his legs around his brother, holding Trenton tight, watching carefully as the blood to his head was cut off and he fell limp.

“
Jeezuz
—you didn’t!”

Diesel looked up to see Marcus looking down over the balcony at them, standing in only his fitted boxer briefs, his wavy hair a disheveled mess from sleeping.
Guess they woke him up.

“I did.” Diesel’s grip ‘laxed and he rolled Trenton off his leg.

“What the hell for Deez?” Marcus clamored as he came down the stairs. He’d never been one to approve of Diesel’s way of doing things, especially when he cheated just to have his way with his own brother. But then Trenton was so damn stubborn, knocking him out was often the only solution available.