Expecting Surrender (Dominion Trust Book 3)

by Trent Evans

  “I’ve never seen anyone go to the lengths Stan did to hide the Trust’s involvement.” Keihl stroked Kirsten’s thigh, his touch comforting and possessive. “Why?”

  “Stan’s got his reasons.” Blaine shrugged, giving Keihl a rueful quirk of an eyebrow. “I think he’s a little paranoid myself, but don’t tell Stan I said that.”

  Keihl smiled, shaking his head. “I won’t argue with that.”

  “Now, it’s time for me to ask a question,” Blaine said, his expression sobering.

  Keihl looked down at Kirsten. “You okay?”

  “Yes… sir.”

  He gave her a quick peck on the forehead before giving Blaine a nod.

  “Why are you here?” Blaine shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, leaning a shoulder against the mantelpiece. “I mean, other than the obvious.” Blaine shot a pointed look at Kirsten. “With her around I’m sure you’re not here to ogle the Terms walking about.”

  “Terms?” Keihl glanced at Tom then back at Blaine.

  “Terms of Service.” Blaine hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “You know those gorgeous girls from upstairs? Those are usually women serving Terms of Service. Typically wives, daughters, or nieces of members.”

  Kirsten’s mouth went dry, though other parts of her body did quite the opposite.

  “Why? I mean… what are they doing?” Keihl shook his head. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  Blaine’s expression sobered, the light of the fire now a hard glint in his dark eyes.

  “They do whatever they’re told. That’s the point. They serve.” Blaine held a fist to his mouth, clearing his throat. “My grandfather — he was one of the men who founded this whole crazy endeavor — he knew something about the rich, about the powerful. He knew they all had weaknesses, and no matter how much the wealthy and the powerful want the rest of us to think otherwise, they’re all, when you get right down to it, just like you and me. They’re human. They’ve got weaknesses, vices, and drives. My grandfather — Hayden Forster, in case you hear that name sometime — he used that, made it the glue that keeps this together. And it’s been more successful that he’d ever imagined.”

  “Sweetie, we’ve… we need to excuse ourselves.” Kathryn stood, her hand stroking Erica’s head, the tall woman still kneeling at Kathryn’s feet.

  Kirsten couldn’t help but hold a hand to her mouth as Kathryn bent over slightly, taking hold of one of the rings that pierced Erica’s nipple, and drawing the gasping girl to her feet with it.

  “Of course,” Blaine said. “I’ll join you in few, Kathryn.”

  Blaine’s wife turned to the rest of them, dipping her head in the slightest bow. “Was so nice to meet you two. I know we’ll meet again soon.” Kathryn’s eyes met Kirsten’s, the animal heat she saw there making Kirsten’s hands tremble.

  “Good luck with the delivery, beautiful.” Kathryn slipped a glance at Keihl. “Lucky man, you are.”

  Then Kathryn produced a leather leash, affixed it to Erica’s collar, and drew the silent woman after her, disappearing through the curtains leading back out to the hallway.

  “Where’s she off to?” Tom’s voice was amused.

  “To play. She’s been dying for some time with Erica since she got back in town. Being away from her plaything is the worst part of traveling. She’d have stayed home with that poor girl if I hadn’t forced her to come out here tonight.”

  Plaything?

  “No… men? I don’t see any men serving these Terms.” Keihl’s voice had gone lower, softer, but Kirsten couldn’t tell if it was from shock or caution. Probably both.

  Blaine chuckled. “They aren’t usually compelled to serve. At least not in the same way.”

  “I don’t understand.” Kirsten couldn’t keep silent any longer. “You mean the women are, what are they? Enslaved?”

  Tom put a hand on her arm. “Kirsten, no. It’s not what you think—”

  “It’s okay,” Blaine said. “Let’s hear her out.”

  “Tom showed us… what it’s like. With Sharon.” Kirsten sighed, grasping Keihl’s hand and squeezing. He squeezed right back. “Is that how it is here, too? Do… all the wives — do that?”

  “Submit?” Blaine’s head tilted. “What would you do if I said the answer was yes?”

  “I’d walk the fuck out of here.”

  Kirsten winced, the words flying out almost of their own volition. This… she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Part of her was more fascinated than she’d ever recalled being in her entire life. This whole surreal situation sounded like something out of the most lurid smut novel — or out of her darkest, most fevered dreams.

  Maybe it’s both, Kirsten?

  Blaine burst out laughing, clapping his hands together slowly in appreciation.

  “You’ve got a live wire there, Keihl. Keeps you on your toes?”

  “You have no idea,” Keihl muttered, not without good-natured humor.

  Kirsten kept going though. She’d already stepped in it — probably — so she might as well dive in. She might even learn something.

  “There’s something I don’t understand though— something you said. Glue. What did you mean by that?”

  Blaine’s expression sobered, and he held out a hand to his brother. “You didn’t tell them all of it?”

  Tom shrugged. “I thought I’d work ‘em up to it.”

  “Too late,” Blaine said, with a mischievous wink. He turned his attention back to Kirsten. “The Trust runs — it functions entirely — on one thing. Self-interest.”

  “Ah yes, the essence of capitalism.” Keihl murmured.

  “Precisely,” Blaine said, an edge to his voice. “Can you name for me one… interest, that’s common to all men and women? A drive? An urge?”

  “Sex.”

  Kirsten’s voice was thick, the word drawn out, as if Blaine had compelled her to say it with only his suggestion.

  “Exactly. Sex. Lust. That’s what drives all of us, when you dig down deep enough. That animal urge to procreate, that need to — hormone junkies that we are — bathe in that oxytocin, that desire to conquer. That’s at the heart of every human, good, bad, or indifferent. And that’s why it’s the glue that keeps us together.”

  “Your”—Keihl held up fingers, making air quotes—”Terms of Service do a lot more than wait tables and look pretty? Is that it?”

  Blaine nodded. “Is that so much of a surprise? Once you learned who Tom and his Sharon really were? Once you saw their dynamic? It intrigued you. You don’t have to deny it. It’s why you’re here.”

  Kirsten opened her mouth to say more, but Keihl squeezed her thigh, hard. She thought better of it.

  “Go on,” Keihl said. “What else do they do? Do you whore them out or something? Tell me it’s not that simple.”

  “We don’t use words like that — and none of them are paid one cent for their service. But they are — some of them — available for the use of any man who’d like them. With certain limitations, of course. We aren’t animals here.”

  Tom leaned forward, his elbows poised across his knees. “What Blaine’s saying is that Terms of Service are usually voluntary. No, they aren’t paid, but they don’t expect to be either.”

  “I don’t think I…” Kirsten looked away, afraid that if she looked into Blaine’s eyes one more second he’d see the truth within herself, see what warred inside every moment of her life, that part of her that had longed to get out since The Game has begun.

  The real you.

  Blaine pushed himself away from the mantel and walked closer, one hand in his pocket. “One of the things my grandfather learned early on, in the early days when the Trust was in danger of falling apart, was that there’s an unfortunate duality to human beings. That good and evil reside in all of us — it’s only a matter of the ratio of each one in relation to the other. That balance. Fortunately, most of us are good people, dark sides or not.” Blaine sighed, glancing at the popping flames of the fire. “Unfortuna
tely, many of the most powerful among us… display less of that good. The secret of the Trust, is that it acknowledges that unfortunate truth, and seeks to harness it, work it for its own larger, ultimately positive, aims.”

  “I wish everyone agreed, Blaine.” Tom sat back, the fingers of one hand drumming his thigh. “But they don’t.”

  “Is that why Stan hid Coal Creek?” Keihl tucked Kirsten closer to his body, as if he felt he needed to protect her.

  “Maybe some of it,” Blaine said. “The Trust… has those who would oppose it. Who don’t understand it.”

  “Not the time for that.” Tom waved a hand at his little brother. “Finish it. They need to know.”

  Blaine nodded. “I do have one more thing to—”

  The sound of leather striking flesh rang out from the hallway, once, twice, a third time. A faint female moan could be heard. Blaine looked toward the curtains.

  “Looks like Kathryn got tired of waiting,” Tom said, his lips curved in a knowing smile.

  Blaine scowled at his older brother. “Asshole.”

  Looking from Keihl to Kirsten, Blaine’s expression suddenly grew serious, almost somber.

  “I want you with us — both of you — but membership in the Trust is a commitment. It’s not just privilege, and fun, and fucking, and excess. Yes, it’s all of that — and more — but nothing’s free, and neither is this. I want you two to go home tonight and talk this over, decide if this is something you want. If you do decide to join us, there’s one thing you need to know. Remember that glue we talked about? We all contribute to it — all of us. And I want to be sure you understand what that really means. I want you to be sure you’re ready for it.”

  Keihl looked at her, and suddenly her heart began to pound. She saw it in Keihl’s eyes even before Blaine could say the words.

  “All of the women of the Trust are part of it — and subject to it. One day, Kirsten would have to serve her Term — probably more than once — and you’d have to accept that. Both of you.”

  Blaine squatted down in front of them, his cool gaze flicking a look at Keihl.

  Permission.

  At Keihl’s nod, Blaine took one of Kirsten’s shaking hands. His brilliant, intense gaze seemed to pin her in her seat, her heart in her throat, a rushing sound in her ears.

  “You’d never be in danger. Your husband, Tom, me. We’d never let anything happen to you, Kirsten. But when you become one of The Trust — you submit to it, too.”

  Chapter Thirty One

  The passing lights glided over the contours of her face as they drove home. She didn’t say a thing, didn’t even look at him.

  Somehow Keihl had known, or at least suspected, what lay at the heart of things. The question now was: did they want to take that last step? Though it had gone unsaid, as he’d shaken Blaine’s hand and bid him goodnight, Keihl had known.

  One time offer.

  “You’re afraid I’ll accuse you… aren’t you?”

  The sound of her voice in the dark startled him.

  “What?”

  “You want to join them. The Trust. But you can’t ask me.”

  He sighed. “Kinda hard to ask your wife if it’s okay to share her with other men, you know?”

  “Would you?”

  “What do you—”

  Keihl winced as the brights of an oncoming car nearly blinded him. Cursing, he flashed his high beams at him.

  “I… I don’t know, Kirsten. Before all of it — The Game, Tom and Sharon — now this. I don’t think I know much of anything anymore. Foundations have been shaken, I guess you could say.”

  “Seems to be happening a lot lately,” Kirsten murmured.

  He knew he was at a crossroads yet again with her, and the stakes were higher than ever. The wrong decision, the wrong path? This time if he fucked this up, it might wreck everything.

  “I do know one thing. And this little trip further down the rabbit hole just made it even clearer to me.” He reached over, laying his hand on the curve of her belly. She pressed her hands over it, the little squeeze she gave him saying so much more than mere words possibly could. “I care about you. I love you. I’m focused on the both of you — and I want it to stay that way. You are what matters to me. Nothing else.”

  “And what about… after? What about when you’re forced to make that choice?” She looked out her window, the ghostly illumination of the streetlights coursing over her form, the light catching the sparkling diamonds at her earlobe. “I doubt the offer’s going to be there… forever.”

  Keihl gripped the steering wheel harder. “I know it won’t be. Honestly, Kirsten? I want to see more, I want to know more. A lot more. But the idea of what we’d — you’d — have to sacrifice. I’m totally confused about it. Turned fucking inside out by it.”

  “Because the idea doesn’t totally repel you, does it?”

  Keihl didn’t answer right away, the pulse in his neck pounding so hard he could almost hear it in the quiet confines of the truck.

  “No, it doesn’t. I’m a fucking asshole for saying that — but it doesn’t.”

  “You’re not an asshole,” she murmured. “Because… it doesn’t repel me, either.”

  Jesus Christ.

  He looked over at her, taking in those big, luminous eyes that seemed to soak up any available light, shining it back for all to see, to admire.

  So beautiful.

  “I need to know if you’d even consider the idea.” He drew a long breath. “I think you know enough now about what it might mean — and what it would require. So you tell me. Would you even entertain it? After the baby comes, after life is back to normal, would you really be open to any of it? Be honest. Yes or no — I’ll still love you. You’ll still be mine.”

  She brought his hand to her lips then, the soft kiss she placed there stopping his heart for a moment, the devotion and promise and love he felt in that simple gesture more profound than anything he’d ever experienced.

  Then she locked her gaze with his, the passing light catching the bright track of a single tear coursing down her cheek.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Chapter Thirty Two

  The kitchen floor was absolutely frigid against her bare feet. Kirsten pulled her robe tighter around her, which wasn’t particularly effective in shielding her from the morning chill due to the now considerable jut of her belly. The note shook in Kirsten’s fingers as she read it, the heat of the mug warm against her other hand, the steam from her morning coffee wafting through her field of vision.

  This is your day off, so I want you to relax. But we’re going to start something new, my girl. You’re going to masturbate for me, and I want you to mark down how long it takes for you to come. I also want to know how you came, too. Did you stroke that swollen clit of yours? Pinch those nipples? G-spot? I want to know.

  We’re going to be tracking your sensitivity from now on. Be a good girl.

  Keihl

  “Well… shit.” Kirsten set her coffee mug down, dropping the letter on the counter, then picking it up again, reading through it to be sure it really said what it did.

  He’s serious with this?

  Of course in fantasy, the idea of her man being that controlling, being that interested in her pleasure, obsessed almost — there was no doubt it was a huge turn-on. Confronted with the reality of it though? With what she’d have to do?

  It made her shudder in a strange mix of dread and anticipation.

  “Dammit, some days I wish I was vanilla.”

  When she’d woken up that morning, sex had been — for the first time in a very long time — the last thing on her mind. She’d had heartburn all night, and the baby had kicked and flipped for hours before finally settling down.

  Then that morning, after she’d seen Keihl out the door with a lingering kiss, his strong hand giving her bottom a strong squeeze, the round ligament pain started up. She’d thought she’d lucked out of it — she was almost to the end of her second trimester and she’d h
ad maybe one or two short twinges that had lasted for a few seconds. She’d credited her yoga for that.

  But when she’d gotten up from the couch that morning to go brew some coffee, the pain had come on again, sharp and lasting longer than any she’d experienced before. She’d stood there, waiting for it to subside, each second longer it lasted causing her to begin worrying.

  Finally, it had subsided. But as she’d moved around the kitchen, again if she moved too fast, it twinged again.

  Standing there reading that letter though, she felt a wet, warm heaviness descend between her legs.

  Yep, sex on the brain all over again.

  It had been almost two weeks since their fateful visit to the Trust facility — she still wasn’t sure what to call the place, which somehow lent it even more alluring mystery. True to his word though, Keihl had focused on her like a laser beam. He didn’t bring up the Trust, or Tom, or Coal Creek or anything anymore. Now all he seemed to care about was how she was feeling, if she was any pain, and if she were being a good girl.

  And of course, he was most concerned with her body — and her use of it to service his seemingly limitless lusts.

  Not that she was complaining any.

  Slut.

  She decided to start a bath, knowing that sometimes a warm soak in the tub could help alleviate round ligament pain. Even if it didn’t, it still beat the hell out of standing in an ice cold kitchen, freezing her butt off.

  Setting her phone down on the vanity, she noted the time, a slight rush of warmth tinging her cheeks as she obeyed her orders. Just in case. She wasn’t even sure she’d actually, well, do that in the tub, but she wanted to keep her… options open.

  Not the only thing you want to keep open, is it?

  She dropped the robe to the floor, turning about as she looked at her belly in the mirror. It fascinated her in a way that nothing ever had before. She remembered the time when her breasts had grown — seemingly overnight — and she could recall staring at them in the mirror with the same sort of wonder, overlaid with the fear that maybe she’d been some kind of freak for having them grow that large, that fast, at such a young age.