Becoming His Slave

by Talon P. S.

  He smiled, “I know baby—” he mocked her, “But you’ll get use to it or start doing as you’re told and not do things you know you shouldn’t.” He kissed the tip of her nose just to rub it in some more. Her eyes tightened on him.

  “Now go get dressed, regular clothes like shorts and sandals will do.”

  “Panties?”

  He kissed her nose again, playfully. “You can keep your panties on today.”

  Trenton looked about until he found her computer bag and packed her lap top, an extra battery and a flash drive while she dressed.

  “What are you doing with that?” She asked when she came back out surprised that he was packing her things.

  “We’re going to hang out at the park today. I figured we’d bring your computer in case you want to do some writing while we’re there.”

  She shot him a questioning glance, “Really? While you’re with me?”

  “Yes. We might as well get used to it right from the start. You did say you wanted to keep writing even after we’re together.”

  “Yes, but on a date?”

  “This isn’t a date. This is us being together. Are you ready?”

  She smiled warmly. How odd that the term being together meant something, she didn’t hear this isn’t a date she heard being together. That not every moment they were with each other had to be an event or an occasion, sometimes is was just being in each other’s company and she liked that very much.

  And that’s how the day went. Trenton drove out them to one of the nearby nature parks, walked through the garden for a bit then found a nice secluded spot under some large trees and relaxed on top of a blanket in the cool shade. They talked for awhile, but when the conversation idled down she found herself actually wanting to do some writing.

  Trenton laid on his side while she sat up nestled back against his belly with her computer in her lap mostly proofing over the past week of story content she’d put out. All the while he just watched her; his hand always touching, until some point when soft caresses of her skin wasn’t enough and he had to urge her to put the computer away, so he could steal her attention for himself.

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Trenton had been working steadily at his desk since the start of the day. His time spent with Katianna was time taken from the time needed for the preparation of the upcoming auction event. To compensate he had Paris handling more and more details, luckily Paris did well as if he were destined to be his assistant, he picked up quickly on details and knew the ins and outs of event planning and to his benefit Trenton didn’t have to monitor him at all times. Several of the details now placed in Paris’ care included the catering and the florist and a few special needs requests from high profile guests coming in for the event. The stage production arrangements had already been made, so Paris just needed to coordinate with them to ensure final details.

  This freed Trenton up to focus more on staffing, security, and the arrival of the people coming in to be auctioned off. That and of course the constant bickering details of insurance and permitting. It seemed every week as the event drew closer there was a new reason city authorities brought up to place the event into question. And of course there were the protestors of human liberties and rights that would likely be there and the religious sect to pray for his sins. All these had to be handled with a midas touch. He and his guests had the right to their lifestyle, so did those who disagreed. At least he was willing to take theirs into consideration, if only he could convince them to return the favor.

  Outside of keeping his business enterprises in order, Trenton had attempted to get Kat down for lunch, but for the fourth day this week, that plan didn’t work. Katianna kept extremely late hours for her writing, so trying to get her up out of bed in the morning or at least soon enough to bring her down in time for even a late lunch was proving harder to accomplish than he’d expected. Yet despite wanting her down for a visit, it had prevented him from getting side tracked, knowing once she was in his office he’d be hard pressed to get himself back into his work. So tonight he opted for dinner plans.

  He glanced at his watch; his driver would be picking her up right about now to take her in for her first laser hair removal appointment. At least he got her up for that. Just the temptuous thought of her newly naked theca had him aching to see it. He pulled the chain around his neck from under his shirt to toy with the lock that had once been fashioned to the labia rings she wore. Now it was around his neck.

  Dropping his keep sake back to its hiding place, he took in a long breath willing himself back to his work. He needed to be able call it a day when Katianna arrived after her appointment so they could head out for dinner with Diesel and Paris.

  But before he could follow through Dane was barging in his office unexpectedly, “Have you heard the news?”

  Trenton’s gaze followed as the man came up seeing something obviously had him in arms. Which meant this wasn’t good. “No. I’m still knee deep in follow reports from the Paris shooting and still working on last minute details on the auction. Why what’s up?”

  Dane came around his desk pulled up a news page on Trenton desk computer then sent the clip to the plasma monitor hung on the wall.

  Trenton pulled out the remote and raised the volume.

  CNN News was reporting on the brutal murder of Multi Millionaire Nolan Carson:

  … “A member of New York’s largest Attorney firms, Carson, Pendel & Calcutta; forty-nine year old Nolan Carson was found murdered in his home this morning. Police are not releasing much at this time, but have confirmed that Carson was one of the four bodies found at his estate in Greenwich, Connecticut.” —

  Dane turned to Trenton, “Nolan purchased a slave at the last auction, did he not?”

  “Yeah—” Trenton’s thoughts retreated to recall it, “Yeah, he did. She was the only five year contact I had. What was her name—” thinking aloud as he pulled up the files on his computer, “Lauren—no it was Laurel. Laurel Sanders.” With a few keystrokes he had her file up to confirm it.

  Trenton picked up the phone and buzzed Harper’s office. “Hey, can you get in here?”

  Within minutes Harper was walking in and Trenton replayed the news clip.

  “Carson purchased a slave at the auction last event.” He directed his concerns and a plan of action directly to Harper. “We need to find her. Is she one of the four found dead? Is she missing? I need to know what has happened to her. If she’s alive we need to get her back safely so we can help her through the trauma. Can you take care of that? You know the Feds aren’t gonna disclose much with me, but they might with you. Her name was Laurel Sanders. I’ll get her file out and on your desk by the end of the day.”

  Within the hour that Harper made a call Trenton wound up with the Feds on his desk. Carson’s murder had deep implication most of which the agents were not discussing with Trenton, but not against leaning on him for any information or ties he might have.

  Staff workers at Carson’s estate that were not in the house at the time of the attack told police there were three sexual companions as they had put it, trying to avoid too many questions about the arrangement of having willing slaves and all three were missing from the murder scene. And the agents placed them instantly at the top of the list of suspects, despite the staff’s claims that the three companions were happy in their arrangement. There just wasn’t enough to convince the agents to dispel their prior judgment: Estranged sex slaves out for revenge, but when the body of one of the said mentioned was discovered later that day, further down the road with a broken neck—it put the suspicion in question.

  A house keeper who managed to hide during the attack described a brutal holocaust torturing Carson for hours before ending his life and those of his brother and the two employees, his house steward and his personal assistant. When the men took the companions, she was certain all three were still alive at the time they were taken.

  While Trenton did all he could to cooperate with their investigation, he a
lso called in his person attorney, Lars Mickels for several reasons. The first being the Feds were chomping on the bit to have a lead, any lead and the confusion and distrust spiked by the topic of slaves made Trenton look accessible. Trenton didn’t like that at all and while he was willing to hand over any info he had both on Nolan Carson and the missing woman he refused to disclose private information on any of his other clients, since their private life had no bearing in the matter. But also helpful was that Mickels was an associate of Carson’s; and Mickels was avid in the D/s lifestyle along with having two slaves of his own, he could—if he chose to, disclose his own personal arrangements as a matter of reference. Even without the discloser, Mickels was well adapted at point made arguments on the matter and the legalities of it. Primarily on the definitions of submissives acting out as willing slaves.

  It also helped keep the focus turned back towards finding the two missing slaves, to only one did Trenton know about—Laurel Sanders.

  Caught in the center of Federal attention, Katianna had slipped his mind; that is until she showed up at the office on schedule. Her blank stare and gaping expression wrenched at his gut instantly, he did not want her to be exposed to such fears and would do whatever necessary to keep her out of it.

  “Gentlemen if you’ll excuse me.” Trenton stepped from his office leading Katianna back out to the front.

  “What’s going on?” The concern not lost in her tone.

  “Something came up and I have to deal with it before we can go to dinner.”

  “Is everything okay?” Her hands instinctively going for his shirt. “Are you in trouble?”

  Trenton pulled her fingers from his shirt, led her over to one of the sofas in the waiting area and sat, clasping her hands in his. “I’m not in trouble, but someone else maybe.”

  “Who? What happened?”

  “I can’t tell you right now.”

  “Why can’t you telling me?”

  “Kat—” he slowed her down with his own voice, slowing and deepening, “Do you still have your nightmares?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, “Sometimes.”

  “Then I would prefer not to tell you, it’s bad and I need to try to help every way I can. But I’d rather not discuss it with you, because I don’t want you frightened by it.”

  “No, something's wrong and that’s why you're not telling me.”

  “Kat—” he didn’t want to discuss this in any way with her, but it was a new bridge to cross with them so perhaps some disclosure was necessary. “I’m only going to do this once, the next time I say you don’t need to know you’re going to accept what I tell you. Something bad happened to someone I matched up with a slave and now the slave is missing. I don’t need you having nightmares over this.” His hand cupped the back of her head and pulled her to rest in his shoulder. “Trust me when I tell you, you don’t need to know these things, okay?”

  She nodded against his shirt, “Okay.”

  “Do you have your laptop with you? Will you be comfortable out here while I try to finish this up?” He released her so they could talk further.

  “Is Diesel here? Can I hang out with him?”

  “Yes and yes.” He let out a long sigh. He actually preferred that. With the way the agents were questioning him the last thing he wanted was for them to start questioning or even scrutinizing her. He’d lose his composure rapidly.

  Trenton led her down the hall to a door at the end. When he opened it she found herself standing at the top of a large flight of stairs that led down into the show room of Diesel’s gun shop. She knew his shop was connected, but it didn’t occur to her it could be accessible from the offices.

  “Hey Deez!” Trenton called out from the top.

  “Yeah.” His reply came from somewhere deep in the store.

  “Kat’s here. Keep her with you will you?”

  “Sure send her down,”

  Trenton pulled her around to face him then stooped down to kiss her, “Hopefully not too long.” He kissed her once more, than closed the door behind her and returned to his office.

  “So was that another one of your slaves?” One of the agents dared the question.

  Trenton dropped into his chair behind his desk, taking in a tight breath to keep his fuse from lighting up, “She is my intended and if you want me to continue cooperating, I suggest you drop the subject of her.”

  “You know it could be perceived that you’re running a call service, another Madam Amy.”

  “If that were true then every online dating service would be illegal as well. I’m more of the e-harmony of B&D and I screen my clients thoroughly for safety.”

  “Guess you slipped up on Carson.” The agent prodded him.

  Trenton eased forward in his seat, locking the other man under a tight gaze. He didn’t care for the insult one bit. “I screen my clients, I didn’t say I employed a fortune teller to know who and when they will be killed by bad people, that’s your job is it not? Don’t you use psychics? And yet you still suck at your job.”

  “Why you—” The agent lifting from his seat.

  “That’s enough gentlemen!” Agent Johnson, Harper’s connection with the FBI, called his partner out, to put a lid on it, “Mr. Mickels has already clarified that Mr. Leo’s operation is perfectly legal. But we still have two missing girls and info on only one of them. Let’s try to focus on this, why don’t we.”

  “Don’t forget we called you.” Harper added. He hadn’t expected Johnson and his men to come in and turn their investigation to target Trenton. He’d known and cooperated with Johnson for a number of years, that he had allowed it to this point had Harper questioning their friendship right now.

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  In the gun shop, turned out Diesel already had some company. Two elderly chaps, Ed and Walter, both WWII veterans that liked to hang out at the gun shop with Diesel and usually made an appearance once or twice a week. Together they reminded Katianna of the Odd Couple or the guys from the movie Grumpy Old Men, the way they carried on. Aside from being thrilled to have someone new to tell their stories to, she was a girl and therefore the flirting and playful banters between the two men turned up a notch to show off and of course had her laughing the entire time and that kept her fitful nature away from the issues Trenton was tied up with.

  “I had a pretty lady once, her name was Gladys. She was a real hot to trot gal. That’s how we said sexy back in the days.” Walter went on about the good ol’ days and how he met his one and only wife.

  “So how did you meet Diesel?”

  “Met him through Project torch, a program for homeless vets…”

  “Hey, hey, hey—” Diesel was walking past as he headed for the cash register to ring up a customer, “You keep me out of your stories. You tell her all you want about yourself, but keep me out of it.” He gave Walter a stern look then continued past. He caught the following gaze coming from Katianna, “And don’t you got snooping either.” He wagged a finger at her.

  Walter leaned in to whisper to her, “He don’t like getting credit. I’ll have to tell ya another time.” And he winked at her.

  “Watch this—” Ed leaned in taping her arm with the back of a finger and pointing in Diesel’s direction. “Why once Sergeant Gentry—” he voice rose to be sure he was heard.

  “Hey! What did I tell you?” Diesel quickly called out to him, but his strict tone also had an air of playfulness, “Don’t be blowing smoke up my ass or I’ll send you home and you won’t get to finish your visit with the pretty lady.”

  The two old men and Katianna all laughed at him. But it also had Katianna wondering what and why he didn’t want the men talking about him. She glanced at Diesel then to the old man, puzzled by what he didn’t want Walter telling her. If Diesel had helped him somehow why was that a bad thing to talk about?

  After shooing the geezers, as Diesel called them, home and locking up for the day. He dropped down at the small corner desk behind the counter to tally the day’s sales up and
Katianna used the opportunity to investigate. “So what was it you did for them?”

  “Why? What did they tell you?” It was almost scolding how he turned the question back on her, but she wasn’t flinching under him this time.

  “Nothing, that’s why I’m asking. What’s Project Torch?”

  “Kat.” His hands never missing a count as he totaled up the register cash, then stuffed most of it into a deposit bag.

  “What? Why can’t you tell me?”

  “What I do for them is my business. I don’t like to brag about it.”

  “So, talking isn’t bragging.” She curled her toes in glancing at her feet as they hung over the counter edge.

  Diesel turned in his chair, his expression changed into something more like what she was used to reading on Trenton’s face, arrogant ruling. “You know I still haven’t forgotten that little stunt you pulled with Paris.” Now he was completely changing the subject. “I should give you a good spanking for that you know.”

  “That would be double jeopardy.” She quipped. “So did you really buy them a golf cart that looks like a tank?”

  Diesel bit back a laugh. “You’re not going to let up are you?”

  She shook her head. “Not till you answer at least one of my questions.”

  “Walter is a bad man. He shouldn’t have told you that. But yes. It started off I got them a customized golf cart that looked like an army jeep. They had so much fun in it; they managed to demolish it in a matter of weeks. So I had a new one made to look like a tank. Damn near built like one too, so far it’s survived them.”

  Katianna’s eyes gleamed as she envisioned the two geezers terrorizing the sidewalks in their custom built golf cart,.

  Diesel watched her face seeing every detail that his brother loved and felt it himself. Her bright and warm expression as she looked at him was infectious “You know what you did here—” he nodded, “It really meant something to them just having someone new to tell all their stories too. You didn’t have to—but thanks.”