by Talon P. S.
“His parents have eighteen years of damage on you. You can’t undo that—not in two years. Maybe not at all. But next time, baby steps. That is if you ever trust anyone claiming to be a friend again—”
“I’ll be glued to his side.” Sasha filled in the sentence. Not that he was likely to let those guys anywhere near his Isaiah again.
“Come in, he needs you now.” Trenton redirected Sasha’s attention. No more needed to be said between them, Sasha understood now. There was no going back in time for Isaiah, no undoing the past and no lenient mastering for him either.
Sasha took another long breath and stepped in. The sight of his lover as he rounded him nearly knocked the wind back out of his chest. The red welts from the caning were dark red not the usual blush from the Dominus and several turning purple under the skin, these would be tender for more than a day and he could easily spank Isaiah’s behind over the next few days to give him a prime reminder of his pain. But nowhere was the skin broken or bruising and he was grateful for that. All along his front were rows of cloth line pins. At least a dozen on each of his limbs and again across his belly and chest, wherever his skin peaked through the ropes that bound him, there were clips.
Small dribbles of blood ran down his chest from small pricks in the skin where Dominus and Patronus had pierced Isaiah’s flesh. The needles already removed and a healing salve anointed the skin around them. Around his cock was a double leather bound cock ring and a leather cage holding the sounding bar in Isaiah’s urethra. In addition weights had been hung from clips over his nipples and repeated on his scrotum.
“Master.” Isaiah’s head bobbed up and smiled at him, his expression nearly blitzed out of his mind.
“He’s subspacing?” Sasha asked surprised, that he would still be in the stocks if he were.
“No drunk—”
Sasha nodded in understanding, “Endorphins.”
“Yes. So take it slow. He’ll be deep in a zone once you’re finished here. But you’ll have to be strict with him afterwards to have its full effect.”
Sasha stepped in closer to his lover. He kissed his forehead and began to flick the clips from his skin one after another. Isaiah cried out as blood rushed back into the pinched flesh, his cries complicated with moans as the endorphins surged once more. Pain, when given, eventually became a hum in the body. It was the change going into and back out of the restriction that caused the height of the sensation. Sasha felt the adrenalin in his own veins, his lover at his mercy under a spell of pain and exquisite pleasure. He kissed him again his mouth coming over Isaiah’s lips and devoured them with a deep heated kiss. Sasha pulled back and flicked several more clips from Isaiah’s skin and again the young man cried out.
“Oh god what have you done to him?” The three men turned toward the direction of the startled cry and there at the door stood a mortified Paris.
“Shit! Get him out of here.” Trenton ordered. Diesel was already heading for him, he quickly stepped out just as Trenton slammed the door behind him and he moved for Paris, but Paris was backing up, sliding down the hallway.
“What the hell was that Diesel?” Paris’ finger pointing at the room, now closed off from them.
Diesel closed the gap, grabbing him up in his arms. Paris let out a stream of curses before Diesel could cup his hand over his mouth to silence him and pushed him further back from the room and into a corner. “Paris it’s okay.”
Paris eyes widened to a panic of white over Diesel’s hand shaking his head refusing to be softened at what he saw.
“Paris, look at me.” But the frantic eyes kept darting about looking for a means to escape. “Paris. Look. At. Me.” Diesel’s voice drew in tighter and sterner, finally catching Paris’ attention and Paris finally looked at him locking with his gaze. “I know it looks bad, but we did not hurt him. Delivered pain yes, but he’s not hurt.” Paris shook his head behind his hand refusing to accept it. “I promise you.”
Diesel held him and waited—waited for the surrender of his fear, to trust him to tell the truth. This truly was not Paris’ world. Not only had he not experienced any of it, he’d never even seen any of the darker forms of BDSM play. The real kinks, but then few actually did, bondage was often as far into kink most people went.
He and Trenton didn’t use it for play, but knew it well enough to perform it if needed. It was still a form of control, delivering over-balanced sensations to the body and they had learned that visual sensation heightened everything, so they made it look worse than it actually was, to deliver more without doing more. This way they didn’t push Isaiah’s pain threshold higher. The trick was knowing how to read the body, the small nuances that told when a Sub had what they needed and when they’d had enough.
For Paris it was frightening to see especially when he hadn’t known what to expect. For the first time Diesel saw a vulnerability in the man. A small part of innocence that existed in Paris and he desperately wanted to shield it, preserve it. Even if he never saw that part of Paris again he’d know it was there. Safely hidden underneath the persona of a bratty imp.
When Paris started to ease, Diesel dropped his hand from his mouth, but still kept him trapped in the corner. “Okay now?”
Paris still shook his head, “Why?” It was all he could manage at the moment. He’d gotten curious so he walked around to see what they were doing since he could tell the door was still open due to the light from the room and he could hear them talking as well. He knew there was a reason for keeping the upstairs area closed for the night, but he hadn’t expected this.
“Because Isaiah suffers from Self-Injurious Behavioral Syndrome.”
Paris’ expression changed drastically, that there was a medical term for what was happening was startling, but less frightening. “What is that?”
“Doctors don’t know what it is, but it’s usually associated with depression and often an incurable mental state. He suffers from a loss of or an inability to feel inside, so he cuts himself or inflicts pain through other means in order to handle his emotions. It’s very dangerous as you can imagine and in his case the pain needs to be established in a controlled environment.”
“And that’s it? He needs pain so you do it for him?”
“When it gets really bad—yes. Now he’ll be able to function close to normal for awhile. As long as Sasha keeps him under close watch and he undergoes constant therapy.”
“You won’t do that to me will you?”
Diesel could see the honest fear in him. Paris’ perfect little world of sex and glam didn’t want to get splashed with mud—or pain. Diesel felt the surge in his chest, felt the burst of need squeezing him. And with that Diesel’s mouth came over Paris’ and delivered the kiss he’d wanted to give for some time. To taste the man who was growing on him with every passing day. That this imp would stir his lust as he did, but at this very moment the big galoot turned out to have a very human side to him and that was a temptation Diesel couldn’t withstand. His hand that had held Paris’ arm pushed up to the back of Paris’ head and held him to him, though even in Paris’ shocked moment, he made no movement to pull away nor would Diesel actually expect him to. Diesel ended the kiss pulling back to look at him and watch the change in Paris. The one hand still remained behind Paris’ head; the other moved over his chest and flattened there, to keep him fixed against the wall.
Paris’ eyes glistened with surprise, then the reality that his Patronus had just kissed him and all he did was stand there—and now it was gone. Need filled those eyes now—need and burning lust. “Again.” His grip on Diesel tightened, trying to pull him back for another kiss.
Diesel was very tempted to let him, but as that small innocence took back seat and the slutty imp that was Paris came back to the forefront and burned bright, he decided it was all the more torturous for his slave to go on knowing he’d blown a perfect opportunity.
Diesel’s lip curled up in one corner in a deviant smile and stepped back. This time he had stolen the kiss.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
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That Saturday Trenton followed through with his routine spending a few hours in the office preparing for the event that was set for next weekend then spent the rest of the day tormenting Katianna into the evening. Neither he nor Diesel would be hitting the club this weekend. They had slaves already arriving, boarding at Diesel and Marcus’ home until the auction, so it was a weekend to stay home and relax and tend to them.
“You know I’ve still never been to your house.” Katianna quizzed Trenton as she sat straddled over his lap on the sofa in her living room. The negligee he had her dressed in pulled down to her waist, the shoulder straps adding playful restraints to her arms which he kept under control when she attempted to work her way into his clothes. This was his courtship, molesting her senses and chivvying her burning need, only she didn’t get to play back. She was beginning to understand fully well how Paris felt. Teased till her body burned like a slut in heat. Her pudendum seemed to always be wet, only it wasn’t her writing doing it to her now.
“That’s because once you come to my house I’m never letting you leave.”
She tensed almost pulling away and suddenly Trenton had her arms locked in his grip and he pushed her wrists together behind her back.
“What do you mean never leave?” Small sparks of panic firing off in her head now and he loved watching them test her.
“I mean just that. When I take you home with me, that’s it, I’ll never let you go.”
“I thought you said I would not be locked away.” Her mind recoiling with fretful apprehension, her chin tucked so her pale eye blinked up at him through dark lashes.
Still uncertain, he could see it in her. That innocence in her still trying to define what her role as his slave would be. It frightened her, but only some small part, the rest was burning with need to be handed over and he knew it. She had always been meant to be his.
Trenton grinned at her, but his eyes cast back down to the hard red bud on her breast he’d been playing with. He licked at it and watched her quiver. “And you won’t, but coming to my house is the first part of the ritual.”
She leaned into him as much as his grip allowed, “Ritual? What ritual?”
“The ritual of your surrender.” He licked at her nipple again, then sucked it into his mouth. Playing with the engorged tip with his tongue, with light pulls of his teeth, sucking at it hard till she was hissing.
“Please stop teasing me Trenton.”
“Do you want to start the ritual?”
Her head rocked back on her shoulders, bowing her chest into his mouth deeper, testing his strength on her by leaning back against his arms. She loved how they felt, the corded muscles pressing into her back. Keeping her. She gulped in rasping breaths when he bit into her tender breast. “This ritual—you're not going to brand me are you?”
“No” He chuckled, as he moved from the one tortured nipple to the next.
“Tattooed?”
“Mmmm—”
“Trenton!” Her head snapped up.
He let out a teasing chuckle, “Not unless you wanted one. I’m not opposed to them, but no that’s not what the ritual is about.”
“A collar?”
He lips smiled around her breast, “Yes, there is one of those.”
Katianna’s arms strained against his grip some; it was the first sign of her resistance, “Trenton—I don’t know if I could wear one of those.”
“You might be surprised—” he licked at her fresh untortured nipple. A new plan of action coming to mind as to what he wanted to do with it. “Not that you have a choice in the matter.” He added as he sat back pulling her with him, keeping her arms locked in his hands, but shifted so he could manage them with one hand. Freeing up a hand to touch her with.
“It won’t be one of those black collars with spikes will it?”
“No.” He felt her relax. Her eyes following his hand. She obviously could see he was up to something. While he answered her questions his mind was vastly set on something else and it showed in his eyes.
“Good—I don’t think the English bull dog look would go well with my wardrobe.”
She meant it as a joke, but he could still make out the layer of trepidation in her voice.
“What—” she watched his fingers dip in his shirt pocket a moment, but whatever he fished out he kept concealed in his fingers, “What else can you tell me about the ritual?” Her words slowing as she watched his hand cautiously.
Trenton’s grin deepened, just knowing what he had in store for her was thrilling, but watching her apprehension build just watching his hand added to the thrill, “I‘ve decided the ritual will take place over the course of three days.”
“Three?”
“Yes. To cover each aspect of our desires—both mine and yours. The ritual starts with moving you into the house. The first night will cover trust, the second will be for obeying and the third night will be the final surrender.” He felt her tense against him as he revealed his intentions for their ritual that would mark her surrender to him as his slave forever. He was actually holding her arms tightly locked now, restraining her, but she hadn’t started to struggle or use her safe word yet and that was good progress for her. “Our first night is the most important, you will spend most of that night kneeling at my feet and you will learn to trust me, trust being completely under my care then it will end with the claiming.”
He let his hand open up revealing the two steel clips in his palm. She jerked against him this time, her eyes widening.
“The claiming you demanded—the one you have secretly desired all your life, I will deliver to you on that first night.”
Katianna’s breathing nearly doubled, as fear swept through her. Her eyes switching from the clips he held to his eyes and what he had just told her. Did he just say what she thinks he said? Did she tell him her darkest fantasy? He’d said she did, but then she was messed up on the drugs someone had slipped her, so she really had no idea what she had told Trenton and he never confessed to her what had been said. But as he slowly began to tell her what he had in store for her she was growing increasingly frightened like when you’re loading up on the giant thrill ride for the first time. You waited all year for this moment only to come to the edge of sheer panic and that split decision of flee or go for it.
“That night I’m going to display to you your alpha, you will feel every part of my strength—” his grip tightened on her arms pressing them further behind her back and then pulled her into him, “At that moment when you know you’re mine you’ll surrender to me and that’s when I’m going to take you for the first time.” His words deepening, hot and breathy. She was burning for him and terrified. That ultimate plunge.
“My cock is going to sink so deep inside you, nothing else will exist for you but me. You’re never going to forget I was there.” He kissed her, his tongue plunging into her mouth deep and forceful, as his hips pushed up to grind against her. The force his hand held on her arms, his explicit words and his body pressing against her ignited something in her then she felt the painful shutter take over as the first clip found its place on her unpierced nipple.
Katianna jerked away from the kiss and cried out in pain, but her body didn’t go far still held tightly by Trenton’s hand. She attempted to fold over, but that too was limited.
“Shhh—deep breaths little mouse.” He whispered to her as his arm reeled her back in against his chest. A free finger stroked circles around the trapped nipple testing the crimson heat that filled her beautiful tea cup sized breast. “Keep talking.” He coached her.
Katianna’s lip quivered, but she obeyed. Trapped in his tiny little clip, he already possessed every part of her, “Ah—and—and I’d—” she panted, “I’d still be able to use my safe words?” She whimpered despite her weakening state.
“No Katianna. Once the ritual starts there will be no more safe words.” He held up the second clamp
and stroked her skin with it teasing her flesh with what was to come.
Katianna shuttered again and tried to recoil away, “Please don’t.” She pleaded.
“Beg for me to stop.” He whispered back to her and he let her beg still using the steel ball ended clamps to touch her with. Drawing circles over her chest and her swollen breasts.
Trenton let her beg and when she had thought she had earned his leniency he ignored it and went back to what he had planned all along and placed the second clamp over her right nipple, landing in between the piercings.
Katianna bucked away, but the clamp was already in place and there was no shaking free of it, even as she let out a painful cry under his steely grip. “But I begged—”
“And it was beautiful.” His eyes fixated on the engorged flesh of her pinched nipples turning a dark purplish red inside the clamps, his eyes flickered over them like he had just licked it with his tongue.
“Then why?” She writhed in his arms.
“Because in the end, every decision is mine. What happens between us is decided by me. Your begging doesn’t make the slightest difference.” And with a quick motion of his hand without her ever knowing what he intended to do his hand slipped between her legs teased her wet vagina open and set another clamp in place directly on her clit. Kat twisted up on her knees, sucking in a hard breath and screeching at the same instant. The fierce jerk of her body nearly tore her from his grip.
Trenton’s arms caught her and pulled back into him, bringing his art work in for closer examination. Regaining his hold on her arms with one hand, his free hand came around front to scoop up her breast and he leaned in, licking at the swollen trapped bud.
Katianna let out a whimpering sob at the added contact, that even the slightest lick of his tongue over her clamped nipples only heightened the stinging pain.
“Shhh—it’s okay little mouse. Your body will acclimate soon enough.” He kept his lips so close she could feel his breath wash over the tortured nerve endings. The hand cupping her other breast messaged lightly, yet to tease over the clamped nipple. Adding the tantric pleasure to the pain.