Becoming His Slave

by Talon P. S.

  Diesel pointed to the monitors on the wall behind him with a raised brow. Six tv sized screens set flush in the wall showed the interior of the virtual training room from various angles. Each one just powering up with an image of their brother stepping into place at the end of the training room.

  “Yeah?” Dane’s eyes brightened like a kid who’d just been given access to the latest gaming program, “How far is he?”

  “Just starting.”

  Dane scampered up beside him and the two zeroed in on the screens to watch.

  Trenton rolled his shoulders and let out a long hard breath. As he waited for the program to start up. Diesel had spent years designing the program, a sort of glorified horror house—half virtual imagery, half pop out targets including repositioning props and walls. Thus the name the Gun Gauntlet and Diesel had spent a pretty penny building the damn thing, but it had been well worth it. Paying itself off when he picked up a contract for it with the army and with the local police. Gotta love those military and gov’t contracts.

  The room darkened and Trenton could hear footsteps coming around, a click of heels—he backed up—keeping the Tavor holstered to his thigh, the Dragon357 gripped in both hands and setting his aim partially positioned ready to react, but low enough not to act too soon. The clicking of heels drew closer. Should be a lady in heels coming home from work or a working girl on the beat. And sure enough a hologram of a working girl slid across the wall like an apparition.

  “You looking for some sugar?” The image asked him in a haunting tone, but kept on walking across the screen.

  Boots pounding the pavement on the opposite side of the room. A blast of air at his side to pull him off focus. He jumped, but kept his eyes forward, his gun up and fired just as the booted figure came into sight. The working girl apparition screamed, the sound of her heels running on pavement drawing away, but the other—a hooded scrawny man had fired at him. A flash and then the room grew darker with images of smoke or fog making it even harder to see—now Trenton had to listen—had to rely on instinct.

  But when you can’t see—and the mind is troubled, that trouble has a way of haunting your thoughts.

  The echo of a cell phone had him spinning around, an image of someone behind him “Whoa its cool dude.” The apparition spoke to him. The screeching of a car coming up and some noise drawing close behind him.

  No, car first. It came into sight and Trenton could see the silhouettes of the machine guns inside the vehicle —he aimed.

  Tire—grill—driver.

  Three shots went out taking his mark and the noise filled the room with a car wreck. What was it behind him? Like a shuffling sound, he ducked just as gun shots sounded over his head. But another phone call was in his head, one not in the program—what was it?

  … Remember the case I’m working on— yeah— there’s been another hit— you need some guys I’ll back you up— it was that writer friend of yours—

  The room went black again, a flash and the virtual scenery changed. Trenton’s attention swiveled around the room mapping it out as physical walls pushed out from the main parameter creating a labyrinth and shots were firing right off the bat—he ducked—and rolled, but heard the buzz.

  “Target strike. Upper body portion.” A computer voice announced overhead.

  “Shit” Trenton cursed. The computer program scanners detected he most likely took a shoulder hit. “Stay focused.” He muttered to himself—but shook his head he was focused—too focused—it just wasn’t the room he was tuned in on.

  … So what is this— What’s what— This— Just got this feeling— What feeling Trenton this isn’t like you. You don’t get fixated on women. You pick them out play with them awhile —

  The room filled with the sounds of a mob drawing close, a group of punk kids. They were using the alley way to make their voices bounce and echo to throw off their position—Trenton kept his eyes alert his ears pricked.

  A click. Trenton spun pulling the sub gun from its holster and open fired taking out three targets with a spray of laser assimilated bullets.

  … Whoa— Red— dangerous territory dude— your thinking she’s the one aren’t ya—

  Trenton dropped rolling to his back just as an apparition image came darting out from behind the hard contact of a dumpster that rolled into his path. He brought up the 357 and fired.

  The virtual scene in the room changed out again and more fog filled the air around him. A steady vibrating hum like machinery filled the whole room, filling his ears. His chest vibrating with the noise. He needed to kick in his instincts to break past the enveloping white noise, but still his thoughts had him off balance.

  The threat of Kirshnov making a public appearance. He spoke to Katianna, zeroed in on her—Kirshnov. He was a serious threat, one that Trenton couldn’t ignore and he couldn’t deal with it. Four years he kept himself away to give Katianna time. Let her have the space she needed to find some independence so she could make that choice he would soon ask her to make, but with Kirshnov prowling around—it would kill him if anything happened to Kat. How would he protect her without rushing her?

  … Fantasies Trenton— There just fucking fantasies— They’re not real— No— I won’t give them up— It’s all I have ever wanted and she will be the one to fill my needs.— I just have to give her time—

  No. There had to be a way to still ease her into his life and still protect her. But he’d kept so much from her, sheltered her from knowing just how deep his desires went—to what it really meant when he was called the Dominus. He couldn’t just throw her into all that.

  … Because Trenton Leos—She’s not. Your. Type —

  Yes she was. She was perfect for him—perfect to surrender to him. He’d had a taste of it when they were at the expo.

  … Are all your baths as beautiful to watch—

  A spot of red flickered on the wall he was being targeted, laser scope. Trenton lunged from his tucked hiding spot, came to his feet aimed and took out his target—another behind him—he turned—

  Click—

  “Shit!” He was out of rounds. He hadn’t kept count, didn’t tap the laser scope on his gun to indicate he was reloading. The enemy shot was at zero point range, a red flash from a light over head lit up on his chest.

  “Target hit. Fatal.” The computer tallied him as a goner.

  And he was. His head dropped, his chin to his chest, and he stood there just letting his thoughts torment him further.

  … Let me show you just how beautiful you really are— You’ve stolen much more from me— Please I hardly think I’m worth your time— Oh I think you are —

  He heard the door to the room open. He should have known better then to do this to himself. He holstered his gun and ran a hands over his hair and head, before letting himself face the man who’d come to confront him.

  “Wanna talk about it?” Dane calm commanding tone came through the dark fog that filled the room.

  Trenton’s head rocked from side to side, “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “Start with letting her in so when she’s ready she knows what she’s getting into. You can’t keep going on trying to keep her close and at a distance at the same time and none of us want to scrape you off the pavement.”

  Damn—it was like they were all psychic or something. They all knew what he was blitzing out about, but then it couldn’t have been that hard to guess, nothing and no one had ever set him off balance like this.

  “You finished here?” Dane gave him a concerned look from the shadows.

  “Yeah—” he looked up taking in a deep breath regaining his composure, “Yeah I guess so.”

  “Good cuz we got a lot of papers to go through.”

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  ~ ~

  CHAPTER NINE

  ~ ~

  JFK INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT: DESTINATION PARIS FRANCE

  Katianna grew increasingly nervous as the plane was powering up. They hadn’t even pulled away from th
e terminal and already she was a nervous wreck. She had never flown before and all she could think about where scenes from the movies. They always ended in disaster.

  Stupid writers.

  Trenton had insisted she take the window seat without an explain why, but she knew why. In the movies when the terrorists tried to high jack the plane, isle seat passengers were the most vulnerable to be snatched up, but on the flip side allowed the heroes to jump up and save the day—she scowled. Stupid writers.

  Across the aisle from them sat Diesel, again on the outside seat then Amelia and then Ramos. A few seats ahead of them was Payton. They were like the secret service or something placed in strategic positions.

  “You’re thinking too much.” Trenton remarked, watching her little mind going to work, as if there were some digital read out on her forehead that told him what she was thinking—stupid writers.

  The plane surged and she was nearly out of her seat when the plane began to roll and the passage way that had been their way on—and the means back off, fell away.

  Trenton could see the tension; she was going to explode from fright the second they built up for the take off if she didn’t try to relax. He reached for her hand and pulled it to him and gave her fingers free rein to his shirt. Requiring no further prodding they fisted in his shirt, but her eyes never looked away from the window.

  “It helps if you don’t look.” He tried to comfort her.

  “That’s like telling someone to not look down.” She scowled her eyes painfully watching as the safety of the world grew smaller.

  Trenton let out a sigh as he reached over and closed the window. Scolding her lightly when her hand went to open it back up. Hell he should have seen this coming and picked up some prescription strength Dramamine or some other sedative for her. But they were here now. It just meant he’d have to buy a new shirt once they got to Paris.

  It infuriated him to no ends that Amelia insisted on bringing Katianna. Paris was beautiful and he would enjoy showing her its wonders, but Paris was also a dangerous place right now. And so was being Amelia.

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  TWO WEEKS PRIOR TO THEIR TRIP

  “Now I’d like William and Ramos with me—” Amelia called on the phone to make the final arrangements with Trenton as to which of his bodyguards she would be taking with her.

  “Dammit Amelia you know perfectly damn well I see to the overseas trips personally.”

  “Since when?” the voice on the other end quickly trying to dismiss his say so in the arrangement.

  “Since France is under amber alert lately with the recent bombings.”

  “This wouldn’t have something to do with the fact I’m taking Katianna with me this time does it?”

  “Beside the fact that I always handle the overseas trips, you know damn well it does. It’s bad enough you risk yourself going to France with the recent death threats your family has gotten, but to drag her along is beyond reckless.”

  “French publicists are opening the market to American erotica and Katianna Dumas is at the top of the list. It’s a golden opportunity for her.”

  “Great! Make a long distance phone call.”

  “I’m taking her and that’s final.”

  “Then I’ll be riding shot gun the whole time and that’s final.”

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Now he wondered what the hell Amelia was thinking, sticking to her plan to bring Katianna with her.

  In those two weeks since, Amelia’s business trip plans went from bad to worse. The summit meeting she was forced to call the Board of Directors in would be taking a vote to shut down two of the company’s largest engineering plants; one that built some of the world’s largest mining equipment, massive earth dredgers capable of leveling out a mountain in a matter of days and leased them out to the large mining companies that used them; the other handled machine parts for the first as well as to other companies that built oil rigs both land and sea. Both located in war torn countries, Turkey and Egypt. While the plants were doing very well and provided a number of jobs for the communities they were located in, they were also high level targets for terrorists and insurgents encroaching in the area. In short the investors and the people who managed the plants were getting scared and wanted to pull out.

  So now the four day trip was expected to go well beyond the week until the Board had made a decision. Katianna only needed to be there for all of a few hours.

  He had it in his right mind to bring Katianna home right after, but the heat was getting bad for the Quinneth family and someone had already taken a shot at one of Amelia’s brothers along with a bomb scare at the Family firm. He needed to stay for Amelia’s sake, therefore so would Katianna.

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Trenton learned a long time ago the best way to force the body to adjust to the six hour difference along with the double shot of a seven hour flight was not to go to bed but to go out and force yourself past the extra hours and then go to bed. So as soon as they had returned to the suite they all would share after dinner, Trenton was dressing to head for one of Paris’ famous sex club, Le Nuit Rouge.

  Katianna thought differently about his plans. Just because she wrote books with steamy explicit sex scenes didn’t mean she wanted to go to a club where people could do so openly. Her wish to decline didn’t come into question until Amelia popped out of her room ready to accompany him.

  Diesel volunteered to stay behind rather than push Katianna to go and perhaps it would do Trenton some good. Trenton would be staying with Katianna throughout their time in Paris and such constant close proximity was likely to send the man into desire overload. Some sexual tension pre-release ritual might keep him in balance—maybe—okay probably not, but Diesel was willing to stay behind and let his brother think he still had that kind of option for himself.

  It wasn’t long after the rest left, Katianna was climbing the walls, too much fatigue from the flight over to settle down to write and there was nothing at their hotel she could entertain herself with. She couldn’t even watch television as it was all in French. Adding to the frustration that Diesel spoke fluent French just as Trenton and Amelia did and the tv suited him just fine.

  Diesel had stepped out for a restroom break, but when he returned, Katianna, while still on the Wilshire wingback chair was now turned around sitting in it upside down. Her head falling back over the seat’s edge and her feet draped up and over the back as she stared at the television.

  Diesel laughed, “Does sitting that way help you understand French now?”

  Her brow instantly furrowed in a deep scowl and her lips took on her famous pouting, “No.” She answered back with a tone that affirmed she was pouting. “I’m bored—why couldn’t we get a hotel with a pool?”

  “Not many hotels in Paris have them. But the Le Nuit Rouge does.”

  She righted herself in the chair suddenly and blinked up at him, “The club Trenton and Amelia went to?”

  “Right inside. They’ll even let you swim in it for the right price.”

  “What kind of price?” She shot off an auspicious look.

  “The kind I will gladly pay if we go.”

  But then she remembered Trenton referring to it as a sex club. “But I don’t want to go have sex in a night club Diesel.”

  Diesel only laughed at her more, “Just because you go doesn’t mean you have to participate, not everyone does. It just allows it if you do want to.”

  “I don’t want to watch either.” One side of her face was curling up in a fretful concern.

  “There are five sections to the club and foul play is allowed in only two of them.”

  “So how does all that work anyways?” Growing a little curious.

  Diesel dropped back down on the sofa crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m not answering another question—you wanna know how it works you have to go. Come on just think it’ll put a whole new twist to the game Name that skirt.” He laughed at her remembering how well that little
writer’s mind of hers whipped up a few tantalizing tails of the types of persons the skirts were as they walked by. It got even funnier when they added score cards to their game.

  She smiled, she remembered that first night, well some. The first time Diesel ever persuaded her to play started getting fuzzy about halfway through her second long Island tea, “You won’t let anyone touch me will you?”

  “No—” he laughed at her again, “and I assure you Trenton wouldn’t either. Hell you’d have a hell of a time getting him to allow it if you did want someone to touch you.”

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Le Club La Nuit Rouge was one of Paris’s famous sex clubs, a place where you could come, alone or with a partner, enjoy an evening within a night club atmosphere and enjoy sex openly—if you chose to. Unlike the sex clubs in Amsterdam, this was open consensual sex between guests not a brothel for hire. Prostitutes were not allowed inside La Nuit Rouge.

  La Nuit Rouge, which meant the Red Night, was divided into five sections, the first an open friendly greeting lounge with bar, a large buffet of hors d'oeuvres, lots of seating and the music was kept to a friendly volume, primarily for folks to come in and meet new people or simply to warm up for the other areas of the club. Some of the tables were actually board games where guests could stay awhile and challenge someone to a game of chess and get to know one another, or just stall to work off their first time jitters. Which Diesel denied Katianna of the option.

  Past the meet-n-greet was the main area of the club and the largest of all five sections. A mix of high-bar tables, deck settees and booths encircled the two focal points of the tavern style atmosphere. The large center isle bar and just as Diesel promised a full size in ground pool.

  Double doors along the wall opposite the pool side lead to the dance floor. Where broadcasting European techno music had bodies swaying and gyrating all night long or until to doing so with clothes on was no longer desired. That’s when you moved to one of the two back rooms.