by Talon P. S.
“Why does she look sad?” Katianna’s curiosity spilled out before she could stop herself.
“Mmmm—” he hummed with deep concern for the girl, “You notice do you? Ma chèrie, Rachel is trying to heal from a broken heart. She started dating a young gentleman from Milan, who comes to the Gallery often to purchase artworks and resells worldwide, but when the young man was ready to have more with her she naturally—how you Americans’ say—out of the closet—she offer herself in every way to him. Poor soul could not handle having a woman submit herself so completely and he run away.” He ran his fingers over her hair then down her cheek and she glanced up at him, his fingers caressing the side of her face and tapped her lips. Her expression warmed and she kissed his fingers before lowering her head back to his lap.
“She was so hurt by it I suggested she come back to the mansion for as long as she needed and I would remind her how beautiful her service is.”
Katianna was now watching the man as he talked, as he smoked casually on his pipe. So relaxed with a tender nature about him. At first glance she could not consider him a handsome man. A little heavy set, older man, his scruffy thick salt and pepper hair brushed away from his face and a groomed beard to match, that at the moment had a few spots out of place from scratching through it. Deep brown eyes filled with a world of knowledge and understanding. Papa eyes. And Katianna realized he was not displeasing to look at either, but as he carried on with entertaining conversation you warmed up to him. Though retired, he still held that certain air about him. The professor at the University, who taught art like it was poetry, showed you sculptures and paintings as if they were the key of how to long lasting love making.
The deep soft spoken voice that caressed your ears while he read poetry to woo you or perhaps Edgar Allan Poe to frighten you into his arms where he would wrap around you like a warm blanket promising to keep the closet monster away in exchange for his affection.
Katianna blushed wondering how many girls in his class had shed tears when he didn’t bring them home with him.
“So how long do you expect to be in Paris?” Fambleush’s attention turned to his guest.
“We came in Saturday hopefully no longer then the end of this week, but there’s a chance we’ll be here longer.”
“Have you tried the new spa?”
“I have heard about it—I have a few Subs that want to transgress and serve there. But I don’t think we’ll have time to visit this trip. I haven’t seen your application for this year’s auction.” Trenton changed the subject over. “Do you not plan to attend?”
“Ahhh—I was meaning to call to speak with you about it. I will probably attend, but only as a guest. I cannot refuse myself the entertainment of it. How sweet those first moments when they step up on stage and the reality of the choices they’ve made come into first play.” He took a deep breath; yes the auctions were truly arousing.
“You’re not looking to buy this year?” Trenton was rather surprised. Fambleush was a regular who sometimes hated to wait till the auction, but did so because that’s when the best Slaves came available.
Rachel had been Fambleush’s first from the auctions. Trenton had taken her under his training and finished her to perfection and when she came to him wanting to enter service long term, he knew exactly who to match her up with and sent her profile to Fambleush. He would have arranged a private contract, but she wanted to go through the auction. She needed the rite of passage, a marking point where she could look back and say this is where my life began this was when I became free.
For Fambleush, she had superseded above all slaves he’d ever owned. After her Fambleush swore off buying from anyone but Trenton. Often boasting to others Trenton’s art for matching Masters with their perfect Slaves.
Fambleush was back to scrubbing at his beard with his thick fingers curling into it. He rolled his lips out in an awkward pucker then made a smacking sound. He was fidgeting, “No I fear you may banish me from purchases for the year.”
“What have you done?” Katianna could feel Trenton’s body tense, but only slightly, his response was more like one of those—what sorted hell trouble have you stirred up this time—questions he’d often given when he was talking to one of his brothers.
“We purchased outside of your rotary.” Fambleush muttered admittedly.
“We?” One question at a time. And he first wanted to know who Fambleush was referring to when he said we.
“Ahh—I did not tell you? I have married.” Fambleush brightened, his hands up in mock celebration glad to have something else to talk about to stall his confessions.
“You’ve gotten married? Who would want to marry you I wonder and still let you keep your Slaves.” But then Trenton’s eyes dropped to Rachel at Fam’s feet. He sure as hell hoped he had not gone and married her as some reckless way to heal her broken heart, all because some young fool didn’t have the intelligence or understanding to welcome a submissive woman into his life. Trenton would most assuredly ban Fambleush from the auctions, permanently.
“Ahh—oui, I marry Chemène.” Fambleush carried on, “We meet at Dane’s club two years ago right after the auctions. We were married just 6 months ago and while on our honeymoon in Argentina she purchase a girl for me, but she was not ready as we thought. I had hoped to talk with you about it.” Fambleush turned somber a moment. “I don’t have the finesse for this, or the time. I was hoping to send her to you. Would you be interested? I am willing to pay the fees and for boarding. You have a place?”
“Diesel and Marcus’s house has the boarding rooms.”
“Marcus, I like. He is good with the girls. Diesel too. He is your second, no? I am fine with that as long as you over see most of her training.”
Trenton shifted, he was about to get deep into a conversation he’d not ever had in Katianna’s presence, but then Dane was right he needed to expose her as much as possible and doing so among friends was the best way. “I’d have to take a look at her first. Nor would I be able to take her now, I’m working here in Paris, and its getting very tense. You’ll have to send her after I’ve returned to New York.”
Fambleush’s eyes moved to Katianna just then, “Who would want to hurt such a beautiful creature as this?”
“It’s not Katianna, but Heiress Quinneth that has my concerns right now. Kat here is a writer for Amelia’s publishing line and insisted bringing her to meet with French publishers, so I had to add protection for her as well.”
“You’re an author?” Fambleush looked at Katianna with a deepened interest and in doing so tried to be courteous and include her in the conversation since Trenton had made it clear she was not a true Slave yet.
Katianna nodded, but she’d not said more than a few words since they arrived and she’d grown content to just listen in, even when they spoke in English were she understood.
Fambleush didn’t take offense to her silence, only smiled. She was a natural, sitting so quietly. Curious little creature though, how her eyes wandered about soaking up every last detail around her, listening not saying a word. Now that he thought about it he wasn’t even sure she ever said hello when they came in. It all seemed to stop when she heard the word slave. How cute she was when her face paled. Only her fingers talked, the way they tightened and relaxed in their grip around Trenton’s shirt. The man’s wardrobe was going to go through some shirts no doubt with her.
“Katianna writes erotica and paranormal romance.” Trenton offered further details to his treasure when she didn’t take Fambleush up on the conversation. Fambleush was a literary junky and read everything from the classics to the romances to the free thinking philosophies and authors always impressed him. The way they wove words together to create new worlds or thoughts, stir a person’s emotions even make them believe things that weren’t real. Books were power he always said. Fambleush read so much Trenton was certain the man had a direct link into the human psyche. It amazed Trenton that Fambleush did not take the time to become a trainer himself,
he would have been good at it.
Fambleush’s eye lit up, “Ahh—you must write down what titles. Chemène and I—we read to the girls. It’s part of our evening ritual. We especially love the erotica. We like to torture them with it, then refuse them sexual contact for a week. Just to torment them further before letting them have release with us.” He grinned devilishly and sent her a wink. “It’s deliciously fun.”
Fambleush’s wife, Chemène Larou-Boismier arrived just as they were sitting down for dinner, the picture perfect middle aged Club-Med member. Dressed to perfection, platinum blonde hair pulled back in a smooth French twist slightly off center in the back, wearing a white sleeveless turtle neck knit blouse with tan slacks and a gold chain that hung down over full breasts. A radiant glow to a remarkably smooth face like she just came from the spa. The French had always been known for their beauty trade secrets and she was no exception.
“Dominus Trenton Leos, I’m glad to arrive in time to enjoy your company during your stay.” She smiled to him then shifted her gaze to the two men that had come in behind her, “Dominus, my brother Toussaint Larou.” She pointed to the taller of the two, equally blonde and equal in his perfection and he gave Trenton a slight nod of his head in greeting, “Bonjour, Dominus.”
Trenton returned the gesture, “Bonsoir.”
“And this here is a friend of the family, Merri Calbur.”
Again an exchange of subtle greetings and the two took seats at the table across from Trenton and Katianna, neither shy with their glances in her direction and she found herself wishing she could sit closer to Trenton and crawl under his arm, literally.
“Dear—” Chemène leaned over kissing her husband before taking the seat to his left “I just saw Rachel in the hall and she looks utterly dreadful.” She even sounded like one of those women at the country club. —Husband, were those tears I just saw in our precious girl’s eyes? —
“Oui, Chemène.” He responded with a begrudging expression. “Raul stopped at du musée today for some pieces and she took notice of him. The boy turned white as a sheet and hurried away as quickly as he could pay for the paintings he’d come for.”
“Dear?” It was almost a scolding response this time, like why would you let that happen?
“I know—I know—” his hand waved in the air over his head, “I should not have taken her into work with me, but I thought keeping her busy would be good for her.” His tone pleading for his wife’s forgiveness.
After they ate Fambleush invited everyone to join him in the comfort room, as he called it. The room was huge yet welcoming in every need, filled with an assortment of plushy over stuffed sofas, lots of pillows both on the sofas and on the floors in various piles. An elaborate carved billiards table in a far corner, two fire places to keep the room toasty. A settee complete with fainting sofa and a high back winged chair in a corner surrounded by a wall filled with more books. A bar supplied with all you could need to entertain and a number of items Katianna was use to seeing at Club Pain, hung on a rack to one wall. And finally Fambleush brought out the slaves with a loud clap of his hands and Rachel who waited at the door waved them in. Three women came out and Katianna’s jaw dropped.
Trenton should not have let her mind run free to create her own definition of slave when he chose not to explain or excuse their conversation on the topic. Of course she should have known better then to allow her writer’s mind to fabricate an image of some sniveling tearsome creature being dragged around in heavy iron shackles either.
The three ladies, though Fambleush had consistently called them girls, were not girls at all, but beautiful young ladies. Varying in height the shortest was likely around five seven while the tallest looked as though she was holding at six feet. Long slender legs draped with white Grecian cloth trimmed in blue that reached the floor and bare breasted just as Rachel was. Their brunette hair braided and adorned with strands of pearls and dangling pearl earrings to match. Their arms ornate with silver jeweled cuffs both on their wrists and upper arms. Each one capable of being clipped together or to something else and the ensemble included matching collars and anklets. Each girl was beautiful in their unique appearance like the ancient Greek slave girls portrayed in works of art and their eyes were lit up with anticipation as they stepped in quickly as if they had been dying to be called in and the wait had been unbearable.
Oh there was definitely a story brewing up in Katianna’s head now.
Fambleush went to the girls, his hand up to pause them, starting with the shortest, “Trenton perhaps you’ll remember Esmé?” He kissed her forehead. “With your permission, she had renewed her contract to stay with me for another two years.” He shifted to the next girl, “And of course Donát.” He kissed her as well and Katianna caught the movement of her fingers as she reached out with a subtle attempt to steal a touch of her master’s leg, her face warmed under his kiss and her eyes looked up pleading for more than just the brush of his lips.
Trenton smiled fondly, “Yes I remember Donát. She was one of the few I’ve ever had that wanted a five year contract first time around.”
Fambleush nodded, his affection was evident, “And she has been worth every single Euro.” He boasted as he also stepped away when her fingers tried to find him again and his finger tapped her nose lightly, “Except she found her orgasm without my permission and now I punish her. Denying her any touching for two weeks now.” He turned and looked at Trenton, “Does she look like she has suffered enough?”
Trenton’s gaze moved to the girl with amusement, he could see she was still having a considerable amount of fun with it. “No—it looks to me like you will be suffering before she will.” He teased the man.
Like Rachel, Trenton had finessed Donát’s training himself and almost kept her, he enjoyed her so much, but she was not the Life Slave he was looking for and while to look at Donát now still aroused him, he was glad he’d not kept her, because now he had exactly what he wanted sitting right next to him.
Fambleush stepped to the last girl, tall dark honey sun soaked skin and dark hazel eyes and full red lips. She was the maiden that would have been sacrificed to the gods. Only she had gotten lucky and was sold to Fambleush instead. Her face gave away her secrets, her shyness, her timid desire to please and a shadow of shame that she could not.
“And this here is our little Marcena. Our Argentina goddess child.” And he kissed her forehead too. But child as he put it was looking more like twenty four and lusciously exquisite.
“A drink for you Trenton?” Chemène asked.
“Wine please. Bordeaux if you have it.”
Fam waved a hand to Donát, while he took a seat next to his wife and waved the other two girls to his feet. Donát scurried over to the bar and gracefully poured two glass of wine and filled a tumbler with scotch and carried them over, serving her Master first with his scotch, one of the wine glasses to her Mistress then brought the final glass to Dominus.
Trenton sipped at the wine, savory the bold fruity flavor as he watched Donát return to the bar and pour drinks for Toussaint and Merri, another scotch and a beer.
Trenton held the glass out to Katianna urging her to taste the wine. He knew she didn’t choose to drink, but he felt the evening would go a little easier on her if she had at least a mild buzz on.
Her hand came up to take the glass, but he pulled it back, waited for her hand to drop then held it up again drawing it closer to her lips to show his intention was to nourish her lips himself with the fermented flavor. He watched as her lips accepted the glass, watched the delicate movement of her throat as she swallowed and that slight pouty push of her bottom lip when he pulled the glass away. Damn—he needed to do that again, he’d liked it so much.
“More.” He raised the glass back up, but she shook her head slightly as if he had offered. “More.” He repeated, gentle, but a statement to let her know it had not been a request and she accepted his urging, just as she always had. He loved that—without ever pushing the topic of
what he wanted from her she already accepted his control. Allowing him to rein over her. How she let him feed her when he felt the need and now allowed him to fill her with the wine. His own body responded and his teeth rolled at his lips watching her drink from his wine glass again. The only thing missing was the joy of kissing the wine from her lips. He knew that would have to come later.
“Will you steal up all the girls tonight?” Toussaint questioned his brother-in-law with some lustful envy.
“Oui, Dominus is an honored guest I plan to show my slaves off at my own feet not at yours.” Fambleush beamed, shifting back on the sofa and his arm went around his wife and was soon caressing her shoulder with a feathery touch. The other offered a tender touch to Donát as she slipped down between his legs and sat at his feet squeezing in as close as possible just as Marcena and Esmé did.
Toussaint didn’t falter at Fambleush’s refusal, having lounged back against Merri’s body who was stretched out on the lounger and reached for Merri’s hand and pushed it up inside his shirt to coaxed him to caress his body. Merri took the queue, quickly pressing in closer with a lick of his lips. His hand instantly catching on and moving on its own accord under Toussaint’s shirt over the toned muscles and a manly nipple hidden there. Merri was so quickly in tune with the other man’s body Katianna thought for sure the two would be going at it right there on the lounger in front of all of them in no time at all. But a throat clearing gesture from Fambleush had them putting on the breaks, if not a millimeter of distance between them.
Chemène paid no mind to her brother or his lover, apparently for them this was normal, but only requested they slowdown in front of their guests. Her hand went to Esmé who sat directly in front of her and began petting the girl’s hair tenderly. But Fambleush’s hands now only touched his wife.
Fambleush shifted in his seat his gaze searching for Rachel finding her still maintaining her post at the door and he waved her to him and pointed for her to join the others. Rachel slid in next to Donát an arm curling around the girl’s waist and playfully tugged her head back by her hair and gave her a tender kiss.