Becoming His Slave

by Talon P. S.

  “Come. It’s time to take you upstairs.” Trenton was suddenly in front of him again.

  “What’s upstairs?”

  “Pain.” Diesel gave him the answer. “And very few rules about sex.”

  Sex? Okay going up stairs to have sex with Trenton and Diesel—this he could handle. This was what he had wanted He hadn’t picked up on any arousal from either of them all night. So the suggestion was somewhat cold, but the feeling of Diesel’s firm hands at his waist pushing him forward and away from the others that had crowded around him was a welcoming thought and his mind focused on those two hands that now held him. His cock even throbbed with the instant anticipation that those two hands would soon be moving around to touch him, wrapping around his shaft and bring him to happy release. Pleasure. That’s what Trenton had said, a master controlled a slave’s pleasure.

  With the aid of Diesel’s firm grip, Paris was led up a long flight of stairs. Inside the upstairs room the music from the dance floor falling away directly ahead of him the moans of someone being whipped taking its place.

  SMACK— “Ohhh.”

  “Welcome Dominus. Welcome Patronus.” Paris noted the baritone voice greeting his masters as he was led into the upstairs space. Again the sound of another phwack against skin followed with a moan.

  Paris felt Diesel’s hands urge him down on the floor, his knees finding soft carpeting, his back finding the edge of a sofa. His senses following Trenton and Diesel as they both sat to either side of him. He leaned one way then the next till he felt their legs against his body, assuring himself of their proximity to him.

  The whipping paused.

  “Please Desiderio, do continue.” Trenton gave the command and the whipping sounds paired with moaning started back up.

  Paris tried to keep his composure, but was losing ground as Trenton and Diesel kept quiet watching what he could only hear. It seemed so absurd that they would actually be whipping someone inside a club for real. So he made the mental declaration that it was show, an act rather than real and with himself being blind it was all the more dramatic.

  “Do you know why we’ve brought you up here Paris?” Diesel asked him.

  “You want to tease me with the belief someone is actually being whipped, when they really aren’t to show me that nothing is going to happen to me.”

  “You don’t believe that what you hear is real?” Trenton asked, but Trenton didn’t wait for his reply, “To your feet, Slave.”

  Paris got to his feet with some help from Diesel who kept him steady. Then he found himself in Trenton’s hands and the manacles that held his wrists bound were released.

  “Give me the honor, Olla.” Trenton asked of the woman Paris could only assume was the one making all the noise for his benefit.

  “By all means, Dominus.” And the sound of flogging stopped.

  Trenton took Paris’ hand in his lacing their fingers together and reached until he felt skin under his finger tips. Flesh—red hot to the touch and as the Dominus guided his sense of feel, he felt the welts—swollen lines of raised heat. He could make out the round curve of the persons ass, soft skin rippled with several layers of welts and then the narrowing waist and up their back, then the faint shivering response to the combined touch of his hand inside that of the Dominus.

  Paris swallowed hard, not only the realization of what his fingers told him, but some strange arousal in him. He pitched his weight back finding Trenton’s firm body locking him in place and that solid connection fired him further.

  “Do they feel unreal to you?” Trenton’s breath touching his neck as he asked the question, but it wasn’t sarcasm questioning him, but lust. Paris could not only hear the desire in Trenton’s voice, but he could also feel it, how Dominus’ fingers braided with his, smoothed over the battered skin with a loving caress.

  Paris’ head snapped with a shake. It felt very much real. “Why would someone submit to this?” He whispered.

  “Because there is pleasure in it.” Trenton practically breathed the answer in his ear.

  “No.” His head still shaking with the disbelief. “Pleasure for you maybe.”

  “Tell me slave—” Paris felt Trenton’s head drift away from his own and the question directed towards the body they were touching, “Have you cum for your master yet when she whipped you?”

  There was a response, first of just panting, but then the whispered response of a yes.

  Paris couldn’t stop shaking his head as if it could perpetrate his denial, “I could never.”

  “That’s what they all say at first.” Trenton's voice teased his neck again and Paris felt him press against him deeper, letting him feel his bulge against his ass. The connection shot a wave of hunger through his body sending shock waves of blood to his groin. Trenton’s hands transferred to his arms taking a firm of hold and pushed against him more. Pushing him to move forward one slow step then another. The firm friction of the Dominus’ body against his moving him, stirring a deep arousal mixing with a fear of what was coming next as he was moved till his hips came across a padded bar or edge of something. Would they give him a sample of a whipping tonight? Just the thought unrattled him, but the throb in his cock didn’t seem all too disconcerted, but rather the more Paris feared it, the more aroused his physical body became. It was insane and he couldn’t explain it.

  If only he could feel Trenton’s arousal as he pressed against him, but he couldn’t be sure the faint brush of flesh was hard. Was he not? Or was Trenton just denying him that part of his body?

  It didn’t matter—the next Paris knew he was being pushed over the pad at his hips, forced into a bent position and he could feel both Trenton and Diesel standing at his sides, holding him, both stretching his arms out and placing his hands onto a bar.

  “Hold onto it. I don’t want to see your hands move from it, understood?” Paris was commanded.

  “Yes Dominus.”

  Diesel shifted around him and kicked his legs apart. He felt Diesel’s hands roughly hike up the long kilt he wore till he felt open air on his exposed ass. Paris felt as vulnerable as he’d ever felt before. While his appetite for the two men was growing, he hadn’t expected it to happen quiet like this. He’d half hoped for some sultry mood to be involved. He was expecting to be stroked by their hands, that they would take pleasure in the measurement and muscular tone of his body. Even a rough forceful kiss would have been an enjoyable plus. He expected to be the one controlling the seduction.

  “Relax.” Diesel told him again and he felt the man’s hand just below the left side of his butt cheek. Firm fingers grasped his muscles and edged down. The touch turned erotic quickly and Paris found his mind and every nerve ending following the firm pressure of the five fingertips as they pressed down his thigh. If it hadn’t been for the bench he was bent over, he would have gone to the ground when his knee suddenly gave out in submission to the touch only to be brought back wide awake with the slap of a bare hand against his thigh and he felt the slight sting that caught his breath.

  “Have you ever been spanked before?” Trenton asked the question.

  Paris had to think about it. Had he? He was certain he had, surely he had—he’d been in some pretty wild flings. Surely at some point someone had smacked him a few times, but he could not recall a single incident. “I can’t recall, Dominus.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat during your stay. You’ll not forget me.”

  Paris’s body tensed instantly when he felt the brush of the leather strands against his ass and down the back of his thighs, but just as easily as they had appeared they were gone without a single strike. Or so he hoped. He couldn't bring himself to relax. As if that first blow was just hovering out there waiting for the go ahead to come down across his flesh. And he shivered.

  And then he heard what his aching muscles were waiting for—the phwack of leather straps coming down on naked skin. He jerked involuntarily—only to shudder when he slowly became aware it wasn’t his body that took the strike o

f leather cord, but once again was aimed for the slave whose body he had felt earlier, held in the Dominus' touch.

  Another crack of leather on skin and Paris shuddered then groaned when the firm hand reached under grasping his dick making him very aware of just how hard he’d become in those few moments.

  Another crack. Another groan from his own lips. Not a drop of alcohol and Paris would have sworn he was drunk the way euphoria lapped at his body. Fear delivering him to intense pleasure having Diesel’s strong hand stroke over his cock. “Oh fuck yes.” His hips rolled into the hand only to have his breath ripped from his lungs when the hand fell away.

  He felt the brush of leather fringe tickle the backs of his legs again and Paris instantly tensed. This was it. Now they were really going to give him a sample. His hands clinched tight around the bar in anticipation of pain.

  “Do you remember what I said?” Diesel spoke to him now.

  Paris’ answer didn’t come right away. His mind fixated on the leather that brushed his thighs and the hard on pressing into the padded bench he was bent over.

  “Paris.” He heard his name reminding him he was expected to answer. “Yes Patronus.”

  “What was it?”

  He swallowed hard, “That no matter what, nothing was going to happen to me tonight.”

  “That’s right.” The leather straps vanished and Diesel eased him back to a standing position, “I believe you’ve earned yourself a reward.” His hand pressing down on Paris’ shoulder, "Kneel down, keep your arms at your side and rest there a bit.”

  Paris lowered down to his knees and right away he felt Diesel’s hand on the back of his neck pulling him to rested against his thigh and there Diesel stroked his neck and ran his fingers through his hair. The touch felt so good. Far more arousing then it should have been, it was just his hand—and the touch was light like petting a cat. How was that, in anyway suppose to feel good? But while he couldn’t explain it, it did—it stirred his loins, made his breath deepen, made him want more. But where was his reward? Diesel had said he earned one. What would his reward be?

  Perhaps that deep rough kiss he was burning for just moments ago. Or Diesel fist over his cock once again pulling him till he came all over his hand or a chance to feel the hard cock in his handler’s pants. How odd he had yet to get a sneak feel from either of the men. Depraved him of the sensual treat. It was probably wise on their part, had Paris gotten the opportunity to touch either of them he’d likely push to take over, topping from the bottom Trenton had called it. He simply saw it as stampeding his lovers and that probably would not go over well. Not tonight at least.

  “Shall we stay and watch the rest of the flogging?” Paris knew Diesel’s question was directed to the Dominus directly.

  “Perhaps not tonight, Olla’s flogging can be pretty intense. She makes them sound worse than they are. It’s still his first night and we have a guest down stairs.”

  Diesel’s hand abandoned the tender petting and moved under Paris’ arm pulling him gently, “Time to get up Paris.”

  Paris did as commanded, but he was still waiting for his reward and wondered how long he had to wait before he actually got it, “Patronus?”

  “Yes.”

  “You said I earned a reward. I was wondering when I would receive it.”

  Paris heard the light huff of humor from him, “The threats are small tonight, so the rewards are subtle as well. You just had it.”

  Paris was perplexed a moment, “Wait the petting, that was it?”

  “Did it not feel good?”

  “It did—I just—”

  “What? Expecting more?”

  “Well— yes.”

  “You must endure more to receive more. Would you like to give that a try?”

  “I—” he tensed. He wasn’t really sure on that. He wanted to feel more of Diesel’s body against his that he was sure, but not sure about what he would have to endure to get it.

  “Relax, like I said nothing is going to happen to you tonight.”

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Back in the privacy of his booth Trenton eased down on one of the sofas, his hand rubbing lightly at the twinge of pain in his gut. He allowed his eyes to close for a moment tuning out the conversation amongs his brothers and guests, shutting out the rest of the world and willed his body to settle down a bit and let go of the constant nagging tension in his body.

  He still had the pain from his gunshot wounds, had a pile of work to do for the upcoming auction and now three slaves in his care was pushing him past his ability to stay on top of things. It also threatened to steal away any time he hoped to have to be with Katianna. He hadn’t seen her since they got back. But that wasn’t unusual, it’d only been a week and tonight was a Friday. He’d get to see her tomorrow and would make sure he had some time with her then.

  Diesel saw the stress in Trenton’s face, leaning into Paris’ ear “You behave. This is not a warning.” The command resonated with control and Paris knew not to buck against it. He heard and understood the protective tone, he couldn’t see what Diesel saw, but made no inquiries for its purpose. Diesel commanded as he wished and didn’t take to being questioned, this he was catching on to quickly. He felt the strong hand guide him down and soon found himself sitting between Trenton’s legs and resigned himself to take comfort there.

  The conversation swiftly went to the club and how things were going for Dane. Then soon shifted to the coming event of Trenton’s auction mostly questions from Fambleush on this year’s selection, drawing Trenton back to the present.

  "Que faire si lui? Will he be in the auction?” Fambleush motioned towards Paris. “I would pay a heavy price for him.”

  Trenton grinned, “I’m sure I could retire rich if I put him on the auction block.”

  Paris’ head snapped around to Trenton.

  “Eyes down!” Trenton warned.

  “I’m blindfolded.” Paris admonished openly.

  “But they are still looking up.” He teased back.

  Paris dropped his head, remembering Diesel’s command to behave.

  Fambleush laughed, “You’re already rich, but won’t you anyways?”

  “No. Paris is not for sale. He’s the new Director for the Island resort, who thought he could get away with not undergoing submissive experience.” Trenton’s hand moved to feather against Paris’ face. He had not given him much reassurance this evening, but that he was remaining quiet and still now, needed to be rewarded with some contact.

  “So they send him to you?” Fambleush puzzled over the arrangement.

  “I am one of the main investors and a member of the board.” Trenton shrugged.

  “Ahh—I should have known you were involved in the resort.” The older friend chimed.

  “How much?” Paris was suddenly quizzing Trenton with open curiosity. He had always known there was a silent partner and he had suspected that Trenton Leos might be it, but he had not been able to confirm the connection. Aware he’d just spoken without permission, he quickly went to correct his undoing, “I mean Dominus may I?”

  Trenton gritted his teeth, deciding whether to just go ahead and proceed with a punishment.

  “Dominus forgive my outburst.” Paris bowed his head to show his shame, “I—I was just curious. Your involvement has been hinted at, but never confirmed. As the resort’s newest director it’s only natural that I would want to be well informed and ask questions. It helps me manage its operation better suited to its owners when I know the owners.”

  Trenton thought about it a moment and decide to let it slide. That Paris had corrected himself quickly enough was acceptable if not noted as slow. But after all Paris did have a head for management. He couldn’t really expect the man’s mind to shut down all together just because he was in training, “Very well I will allow it this time, but next time you ask to speak before you question.”

  “Yes Dominus.”

  “To answer your question. Myself and my brothers here together make up one third of the money invested.”

  “In the B&D season?”

  “The entire island.”

  “You have quarters on the island?” Paris knew there were only three private homes on the island, all of which belonging to the three prime investors and while he had been placed over the management care only Alan Pridmore knew who the owners were and so far hadn’t shared the information with him.

  “The granite Mediterranean modern house on the far point is ours.”

  “The one being built right now? The one Cardiff Matisse designed?”

  “Yes, you know him?”

  “I met him in Paris.” Paris’ tone changed slightly from deep interest in the island to a—been there done that expression.

  “And did he treat you to his lovers when you were there?” Trenton asked with curiosity.

  “Only Cardiff.”

  “Cardiff?” Trenton sat up and pitched over Paris’ body. “Are you claiming that Cardiff himself was your lover?” It was nearly an accusation. A warning to not spread lies or exaggerate his claim.

  “He had the pleasure—yes.” Paris licked his lips remembering the man he seduced after he had posed for days for one of his sculptures. And that was no exaggeration. He knew why Trenton questioned him. That Cardiff had gone to bed with him at all was a surprise to all who knew the artist. Cardiff allowed men to lavish him with attention, but he never bed them, but rather fed his male slaves with the women in his harem after he had had his fill of them.

  “Yes. Now I remember your face.” Fambleush blurted in. “You brought the living statues to my musée. Cardiff he went insane over you.”

  “I could make you crazy for me too, Dominus.” Paris turned wanton with a flip of a switch.

  “Perhaps Fambleush would like to experience that?” Trenton was quick to steer the overgrown brat’s attention elsewhere.

  “The old man?” Paris was wounded, but tried not to sound it. He wasn’t use to be turned down, even though he’d been given little chance to work his magic on the Dominus.

  Rachel suddenly came to her feet and rushed at Paris who didn’t see her coming, but he felt the sting of her hand as it came across his face in a hard slap.

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