Becoming His Slave

by Talon P. S.

  “Ahh ahh—no touching her—she’s still grounded. You want the same?” His eyes tightened on Rachel and she grinned back as did Donát. Watching this Katianna had to wonder if the man had ever held his ground when it came to disciplining the girls. They seemed to have thorough knowledge he was really just a softy inside.

  “So Trenton did Fambleush speak to you about Marcena?” Chemène gave him a hopeful look as she started up conversation.

  “He did mention it, but I have to examine her first, before I decide.”

  “Fam dear—” she suddenly turned to Fambleush, “What are you waiting on?”

  Fam blushed for his wife, she was always so impatient.

  “We were also going to discuss why he hasn’t submitted a bidder’s application for the auction.” It was actually a trick question, his way of feeling out her own response to what had taken place.

  “Oh well—” she quirked her lip up, “I think I blew that one—We shared her during our honeymoon. She responded so nicely we thought she was trained properly. But look at her—” she brushed her fingers over Marcena’s hair, “—she is such a beauty and to think if I hadn’t bought her, she’d of ended up in some awful brothel.”

  Trenton listened as Chemène told her version of their honeymoon to Argentina, his own attendance to Katianna never faltering. Always glancing her way, to look at her directly. She didn’t comment on any of the conversation by her own choice, she could have talked if she wanted, but he learned over the years she usually left that to everyone else. She just liked to listen, but he looked at her none the less so she knew she was still a part of his evening, not at all ignored and continued feeding her sips of his wine and readily accepted when Esmé was told to refill his glass.

  It was fun watching Fambleush with his new wife and the three girls. The girls might as well have been pedigree dogs and they were just a couple of Dutch dog fanciers. Only instead they were a couple of French slave fanciers. But purchasing outside his rotary was against policy. You didn’t have to specifically purchase from him, but did have to do so from someone that he approved of, someone on the rotary. That was how he protected members from the Black Market slave trade; it was how he kept the Black Market from prospering from buyers. It was a small dent he created in that dark world, but a dent none the less. Would he turn down their application for bidding at the auction? No—they knew they had done wrong out of impulse, but in the end they had handled it properly and were still seeking a means to have their Slave well cared for. He would allow them to bid anyways and dismiss the flaw.

  After listening to Chemène’s side of the story Trenton made his judgment. “Submit your app, but make sure you both fill it out together its different now that your married both of you have to be accepted and make sure I have references for Chemène.”

  Chemène smiled warmly and she leaned over kissing her husband, she was almost giddy with the news.

  “This is good news; we were looking to possibly bring home a male slave this time.” Fambleush smiled at his wife.

  “Then I suggest you bring a fat purse. The demand for males will be heavy this year.”

  “Wouldn’t have something to do with that resort down in the Caribbean would it?”

  “It does. The Salientis du Deliciarum Island Resort is looking for ten males and ten females. It’s going to make the competition fierce this year.”

  Katianna did all she could to stifle her laughter, drowning it down so it was only a choked giggle, but her face went red when Trenton twisted in his seat to look at her, his face filled with bemusement. “Got that did you?”

  She nodded, chewing at her lip and hid her face in Trenton’s arm even as she heard the chuckling from Fambleush. The name of the resort Trenton had mentioned was in Latin, and only someone versed in Latin would understand its playful meaning was meant to be delicious ejaculation. The wicked humor was too much to pass up on and not laugh at it.

  Fambleush managed to tamp his own chuckles down as well “I love a good private joke myself too, but this is extraordinary not only for people like us, but for you as well. Will you have enough to please your clients?”

  “It’ll be tight; we’ve extended the window for entries in order to get a few more in.”

  “Well just make sure my Marcena isn’t on the auction block while she’s with you.” He joked.

  “I haven’t accepted her yet.” Trenton reminded him.

  “Well then let’s get on with the examination.” Fam was pushing up to his feet and stepped over his girls waving them to stay and went over to fetch his favored customized whipping bench. Soft suede covered pads placed for perfect positioning of his slave’s body as they were laid over it and could easily be positioned straight bench pose, the equivalent of being on hands and knees or bent over with their head dropped down. All of it centered on a wide cushioned suede ottoman for the master’s own comfort should he choose to take a knee next to the slave. Fam rolled it into position so everyone else could watch then handed Trenton a red Pyrex baton, one end wrapped in soft black leather with thick straps of fringe creating a soft flogger that hung from the handle.

  Trenton glanced at the toy and gave him a curious look, “You know I prefer a cane or a bamboo beater.”

  Fam shook his head, “Not ready for that one. You’ll have that pleasure.” And while Trenton didn’t like using a substitute the idea of starting her from scratch held some appeal for him. His eyes shifted to Katianna at his side. There was nothing he could say for her. He had warned her before they ever left the hotel what kind of company Fambleush was and that it would very likely be expected of him to entertain and he had no intentions of turning down the chance to play.

  This was not Club Pain—the world of Trenton Leos was far more intense; he never stopped being the Dominus. At the hotel he gave her the option to stay behind, but she had, in a meek response, wanted to come. He gave explicit warnings that he might touch her, might tell her to do something, nothing too extreme, but he might ask her to stay silent or not look at something and he would expect her to do as she was told. While in no way did he expect her to be his Sub, neither would he have her act defiantly of him in front of others. Not that he thought she would, but just as he would give specific instruction in his line of work, even here it had to be said. And still Katianna nodded complacently. He was kind of surprised, but relieved as well. This was the world she needed to see. The part of who he really was. Though the more he thought about it he wasn’t sure why he was surprised that she would want to go. She had always been curious, so long as she could do so from a safe distance or tucked safely under his arm as he was learning.

  “Try the Pyrex—I think you will like it.” Fambleush broke through his thoughts bringing him back to the moment and encouraged him to continue.

  Trenton got to his feet taking the red glass stick and gestured with his head it was time for everyone to step back and the room suddenly seemed to build with electricity. He crooked his finger at Marcena calling her to him and she rolled up to her feet and walked to him. He took her hand and circled her over to the bench as if leading her to the dance floor and he noted her graceful step. Very nice indeed. Then turned her to face the bench and stand in place, “Don’t move.”

  Trenton circled around Marcena first taking in her shape, her poise, the growing nervous shimmer as her eyes though low followed him… the stranger that now held the flogging baton. Trenton tapped it in his palm letting it make a smacking sound all while circling around her. He wanted the nervous fear to build, he wanted her to experience that small shiver of panic, to see how long it would take if at all when she would remind herself that this is where she chose to be. After all they had offered her freedom when they discovered she had been sold to them without any submission from her and she chose to come back. This was the life she wanted. He just had to show what this really was and she needed to know that no matter what happened there was nothing she could do about it.

  He paused behind her to caress her r
ound cheeks with the end of the glass baton. Watched her fingers curl and flex at her side. He stepped closer and leaned in letting his breath touch her, “Pull up your sarong and hold it up so I can look at your naked skin.” And he stepped back to watch as her fingers gathered the cloth at her hips, little by little.

  “Nice.” He commented at her style to do so slow and elegantly. “Now lean over just a bit.” And when she did so he grazed the inside of her thighs with the baton.

  Her thighs clenched around the object in a responsive hug “I didn’t tell you to pleasure yourself.” And he tapped her cheeks with the Pyrex stick with a stingy snap. Her breath clutched at the contact, but Trenton wasn’t impressed with the baton as a cane substitute, it was too thick to get that nice sting and it would take too much energy, unlike a paddle that when at full swing gives a nice slap across the flesh, but use the baton with the same amount of pressure and it would be more like a beating. He would have to use the flogger end. Still, the baton had its own uses—ones he was certain would move him to use the instrument more often.

  And right away he found use number one: Spread Slave’s legs.

  Once he had them where he wanted them, he twirled the baton in his grip and swung the leather straps across her thighs first one then the other. Her knees quivered, but she kept her place and he swung again to repeat the motion, but after the first of two strokes and his swing aimed to connect with her other thigh her hand darted out to cover the reddened flesh and Trenton caught her fingers with the flogger. He had not anticipated her to move. Now he knew he would have to look for it and that was not always easy.

  Trenton leaned in whispering, his warm breath caressing over her ear. “We’re going to try this again only you’re not to move again. Do you understand?” He looked at her a moment, “Nod and tell me you understand.”

  And she nodded, “Yes Amo.” She whimpered, calling him her boss in her native language.

  “No me llamesjefe. Usted siempre se refieren a mí como el Dominus.” He spoke to her in Spanish for the first time, so she understood clearly what was expected out of her, so there were no discrepancies of words and language, “Dominus. You will refer to me as Dominus.” He repeated the proper title in English.

  “Yes, Dominus.” She whispered the proper response.

  Trenton stepped back, dragging the flogging straps softly across the curve of her ass, teasing her, easing her to its touch to anticipate it, then quickly pulled back and swung. She twisted suddenly and just as quickly tried to correct her stance, returning to her original position. Trenton's arm froze in his second swing, but the second she returned to her spot he followed through and delivered a strong strike across the back of both thighs. Okay so this one needed to be restrained. He flipped the baton in his hand and stuck the Pyrex end between her legs pressing it against the entrance of her sex and lifted.

  Usage number two: Motivate Slave to move.

  “Crawl up on the bench.”

  Usage number three: Tease Slave. And he did so stroking across her labia parting them with the baton, tantalizingly slow and he was certain he heard Donát whimper behind him. Poor tortured and deprived child. A devilish grin worked its way on his face. How often had he fantasized of doing the same to Katianna?

  Return to usage number one: Spread Slave’s Legs. And he could see the moisture already weeping from Marcena’s body. Yes—he could see she responded very nicely. He moved around front of her as she leaned over the narrow padded bench that now held her in place, but it wasn’t going to be enough, he’d have to strap her down.

  Usage number four: Make Slave Lick It.

  “Open your mouth.” And when she did he teased her lips with the baton till she licked at it then pulled it away before she could really get into it and moved to the straps. First her wrists, clipping the bangles she wore to the chains built into the bench, next he pulled a strap around the back of her thighs just above the knee and another over her back at the waist to keep her from twisting away.

  He was pulling it tight when Katianna’s yelp had him spinning on his heels and he found her recoiling on the sofa—Toussaint and Merri had snuck up behind her and by their position and Toussaint’s out stretched hand they had attempted to touch her.

  Trenton glared, but kept his steps slow and controlled as he moved over to the sofa, his heavy gaze on the men never softening, his hand held out to take Katianna, “You should not touch a man’s property without asking and it’s not wise to touch mine at all.”

  Trenton lifting her up from the sofa and guided her hand to take its rightful place in the permanent pressed twist in his shirt and returned to the subject of Marcena.

  Fambleush could not contain his admiration as he watched Trenton work his Slave Marcena, all while he kept vigil own his future intended. It was magical. Trenton was truly focused on what he was doing with Marcena as he trained her to accept the flogging straps and built her body to a high arousal, yet that one hand blindly attended to the small woman clinging to him, never forgetting her—never abandoning her position always keeping her aligned with his own body and movements. Like a dancer that knew where her skirt needed to be for the next move or a bullfighter—eyes always on the bull, but hands controlled the red cape. Oh bravo!

  Trenton was hard as a rock, enjoying the Slave—how her body responded, but she did need some training, a lot of it. She was still afraid—too nervous that it hindered a great deal of the pleasure she should have been getting from it and her eyes wandered too much. She would fidget and that was problematic. Had he not caught the shift in her body and continued with his strokes of the baton he would have struck improperly and that could result in hurting her. That bad habit would have to be corrected right away—one of the first steps of her training. But while he was growing hungry just from handling the untrained slave, the undeniable presence of Katianna as she clung to him, flowing with his body so easily, made his arousal and need for satisfaction al the more potent. No chance he could handle going back to their hotel with a full out raging erection, he was too high on the adrenalin and her scent.

  He moved in front of Marcena one hand guiding Katianna to stand directly behind him. Some small part of him wished she wasn’t there just now, fearful she would be wounded by it and yet if she watched it was going to make him so much hotter and all the more enjoyable.

  He unzipped his pants and pulled the hard flesh from the confinements and waved it in front of Marcena’s lips. Tucking the red acrylic baton under her chin, he raised her head up bringing her lips level to his cock, “Lick.” He told her softly and before Marcena responded he felt Katianna’s fingers clench tighter and her head pressing into his back—hiding.

  Marcena pushed her head forward her lips parting for him. He quickly pulled back, “Ahh ahh—I said lick.” Again he was soft with his instructions, but that firmness was always there.

  Marcena’s pink tongue slipped out and she licked at the engorged crest, seeking out the moist slit with the tip of her tongue, but her eyes shot up looking for his approval. The one thing Trenton didn’t tolerate and his fingers twirled the baton on his fingers and brought the leather strap down on her back that quickly. The sound had Katianna flinching from the cracking sound. It reverberated though his body. Oh hell—he liked that—two flinches for the price of one.

  “Keep your eyes down at all times.” Trenton commanded with soft control.

  “Yes Dominus.” Marcena whispered.

  As he allowed Marcena’s mouth to work around him, he felt Kat relax behind him some, but he was growing tense in the same process. Marcena was showing once again just were her lack of training was and for him it was very disappointing. He needed the release.

  What he needed was Katianna willfully wrapped around him, but he was still uncertain she was ready. He needed her to be ready cause once he started for her there would be no stopping him, no holding back. He wiped the sweat from his brow. He didn’t know what made him sweat more, the frustration from the untrained, inexperienced m
outh of this Latin delight or having Katianna so close to him when he was so primed for her.

  A sudden scrape of teeth ripped him from his thoughts and he quickly pulled his anguished flesh from her mouth. “Enough.” His command gritted past clenched teeth.

  “But I have not brought you to orgasm?” Marcena’s lips quivered.

  “I’d rather use my hand to finish then suffer this any longer.” He zipped up his pants and his hand went to gentle Katianna, pardoning her from his tempered words. Mainly he just wanted to touch her, feel her body against the length of his arms. That she allowed him to enjoy the feel of her body as he stroked her side soothed his disappointment and addressed his needs.

  A trained mouth was one of the simplest of things to complete and one of his favored pleasures next to caning. Even a decent mouth was easy enough to develop, the rest would come, but this one had not received any training. Most likely the men that handled her were satisfied enough to just pump inside her mouth and the best she could do was sit there and let it happen.

  But that wasn’t Trenton, a woman’s mouth was heaven to him and he liked to feel it dance around his cock, liked it when the ecstasy created by her swirled through his body and sent him into a maelstrom of sensations. If he had to pump just to feel something from their mouths then it wasn’t good, like soured wine and it was best to just put a stop to it. Better to dish out a little shame then injure the girl, pumping his lust down her throat.

  Fambleush looked at him with a worried expression, fearing Marcena’s failure to satisfy the simplest of pleasures alone would deter Trenton from accepting the girl into his training.

  Trenton shook his head, “She’s damaged goods, Fambleush. She has never been trained and has gone too long without correcting the bad habits she’s developed along the way.” He shook his head again, slow and heavy with calculated thoughts. It was difficult to break someone of bad habits, after they’d gone uncorrected for too long and took far too much time to rectify. Time he didn’t have or even willing to put into her, not without a heavy fee.