Enslaved (11 page)

Breathe one two three, out two three four.
Don’t get all jacked up right before seeing him and his friends. She wiped her sweaty palms on her halter dress.

Trevor greeted her as the elevator opened, holding his hand out to her like the gentleman he was. He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “You look amazing.”

“Julian’s good,” she said humbly.

Roman and Marc stood when she entered. Roman was tall and intimidating-looking, even with that chocolate-brown hair that fell across his face.

“Good evening, Elisabeth,” Roman said. All the joviality of the day they drove the cars down the ramp into the garage after Marc’s prank was gone. He was back to stern.

“Hello, Roman, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” She tried to keep a smile on her face until she knew what they were going to spring on her, at least.

Marc nodded. “How are you doing?”

“Well, thank you, sir.” She liked the look of him too, with that shaved head and tattoos peeking out on his forearms where he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves. The men seemed different here, in the tiger den. Man cave. Whichever.

They looked frightening.

Trevor gestured that they should all sit down, and Elisabeth sat next to Trevor, as if to remind his friends that she belonged to him.

Except she didn’t, did she? Not yet. But she certainly didn’t belong to those two.

Roman looked right at her. “If you were my slave, you’d be sitting on the floor, not on the couch.”

“But I’m not your slave,” she muttered.

It was obvious Roman could hear her, since she hadn’t exactly meant for him not to hear it. Trevor gave her a warning look.

“I’ll take her off your hands for a while,” Roman said. He walked over to her and put his finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his steely gaze. “That is, if you consent.”

What?

She shook her head. “Trevor and I are . . . dating.”

“Trevor,” Roman corrected, “is loaning you to me to train you on his behalf. But only if you want to.”

“No!” She jumped up, her heart pounding. “I want to stay with Trevor. We were just starting to work things out.”

“No, we weren’t,” Trevor whispered. “We were going down the wrong path. I’m glad you want to stay with me, but if you do really want that, then you need to go train with Roman first.”

The words
no way
almost slipped past her lips, but then she looked at Trevor and saw the emotion in his eyes, and the fear. The fear that she’d say no, probably, and that he’d have to kick her out himself. Roman looked stern, though. Like he wouldn’t put up with any of her bullshit.

Maybe she did need a dose of that. If Trevor trusted him with her, then she’d have to trust him too.

“Okay. I consent,” she said.

“I consent,
sir
,” Roman prompted. She could practically feel the testosterone in the room rising, and all that was left was her, and her new trainer, and her lover watching with a clenched jaw as he sat next to another man who had more money than God.

These were three very powerful men. “Yes, sir,” she replied.

“I’ll have your things sent over tomorrow morning,” Trevor said, rising.

Oh my God, was he escorting her out? Now, so soon?

“Please, Trevor, right now? Do I have to leave now?” She stopped herself, realizing she was pleading like a whiny toddler, and not like the well-trained sub she was going to have to pretend to be in order to get back to Trevor as soon as possible.

“Before I change my mind,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. His hand brushed over her back, reigniting the sting from her earlier punishment, and she leaned into him, wanting him to change his mind right then and there.

Roman started walking toward the elevator that would lead them up to the main floor, and he looked back at her, still nuzzled against Trevor’s chest.

“You can make him change his mind, Elisabeth, if you choose to. But will you be happy in a relationship where you must play the puppet master and pull your marionette’s strings to be content? Or do you want what brought you into this lifestyle in the first place?” He held the elevator door open for her.

Elisabeth stood on her tiptoes and kissed Trevor’s lips. “See you soon?”

“Of course. Be good. Listen to Roman.”

She nodded and got into the elevator. When the door closed, Roman put his hand on the back of her neck. “What’s your safeword?”

“I never safeword.
Sir.
” She was being defiant already, her fear making her say things she shouldn’t.

Suddenly, his hand was in the back of her hair, yanking her head back. “You’ve never been trained by me.”

“My safeword is Teotwawki.”

Roman nodded and let go of her hair. She rubbed the back of her head. Apparently he knew what it meant, and that it wasn’t Japanese.

The drive to Roman’s home took less than fifteen minutes. His home was as impressive as Trevor’s, but in a different way, a colder, darker way. The night air had a chill to it, and she walked quickly in her heels to keep up with him, past manicured grounds and into a mansion that seemed pitch-black.

“Is the power out?” she asked, whispering the way she tended to do in the dark.

“No. I like it this way.” He turned on one lamp, throwing shadows across a front hall that looked like it needed a woman’s touch in a big way. “Besides, my staff is out for weekend, and paying electricity for a place this size isn’t cheap. Why keep lights on in empty rooms?”

“But . . . you’re a billionaire. Why do you care about the electric bill?”

Roman huffed. “Waste not, want not. Let’s go to bed, it’s late.”

Elisabeth froze. Would she be having sex with him? He must have seen the unasked question lingering on her face, because he said, “If I feel like fucking you, I will. Trevor knows I sometimes implement sexual techniques. Unless you safeword out, you’re mine when I want, how I want. That’s what you were supposed to be for Trevor, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Following him blindly up the tall staircase, she stopped at the top of the stairs. “Do you have a room for me?”

“Your job is to serve me, to please me, as your trainer. Usually I ask girls to give me a blow job and then have them sleep on the floor by my bed. But I think that would be your cup of tea, since you’re a glutton for punishment.”

She wouldn’t want to sleep on the floor, because it wasn’t that “hurts so good” type of pain. But she nodded because she didn’t want him to think otherwise.

“Instead,” he continued, opening the door to the master suite, “I’m going to do things a little differently tonight. Trevor says you have a hard time taking your own pleasure, is that right?”

She nodded again. Fuck. So personal, so in her face and she barely knew the man. He acted like it was all some sort of sterile routine, as if they were discussing a doctor’s appointment instead of BDSM training. Or Trevor.

His bedroom was huge, with dark curtains drawn over what must have been huge windows, and a bed with metal hooks and latches all along the headboard. A bondage bed. Huh.

“Subtle,” she joked.

“Everyone knows I’m a Dom. I’m not like Trevor—if I need to punish you in front of the staff I will. And I have a dungeon better than the one at WhipperSnapper’s.” He finally smiled.

“So you’re the BAD Boy with the dungeon,” she said, genuinely impressed.

“I’m going to the main bathroom to get ready for bed. You’ll find guest toiletries in the room across the hall. I want you to wash the makeup off your face, brush your teeth, and strip naked.”

“So, sex then,” she guessed. Of course. Did Trevor know that was the first thing Roman would do with her?

“Come back within five minutes. Go.”

He pointed across the hall and she went, hanging her dress on a hook in the guest bathroom. It seemed a pity to wash off all of Julian’s beautiful makeup, but she wasn’t going to risk Roman’s wrath over that.

Sorry, Julian.

The granite was black with little flecks in it, the door a dark wood. Even the sink was a cold stainless steel. This guest bathroom was so different from the Pink Room it could have been night and day. Were Roman and Trevor going to be different like that too?

The warmth of Trevor’s home, even the heat from the lash of Trevor’s belt, seemed preferable to the coldness she found here in Roman’s mansion.

Finished, she flipped off the light and found her way back to Roman’s bedroom in complete darkness.

He threw back the covers and got into the bed, wearing gray gym shorts and a white undershirt. Muscles strained at the seams of the material.

She stood at the bedside, naked, not moving, waiting for him to tell her what to do. If it had been Trevor she would have jumped into bed with him first and waited for orders later. But that probably wouldn’t fly with Roman. And she wasn’t so sure she wanted to sleep with him, as handsome as he was.

He lay on the bed, watching her through the sliver of moonlight that made its way through a crack in the curtain.

“Turn around and face the wall,” he said quietly.

Without a word, Elisabeth obeyed. Anticipation made her nerves jumpy, as if at any minute something might happen.

Well, it might. Roman’s hard-core.

“Bend over and grab your ankles,” he ordered.

Fuck. She did, acutely aware of her pussy and asshole only a foot or so from him as he lay on his side, watching.

A quick jolt of pain caught her off guard as he reached out and pinched her ass, making her yelp in surprise.

“Give me a break. I barely touched you,” he said, and pinched her ass again, holding it this time until she felt her pussy growing wet with desire. “Ah, a true masochist. You get turned on by the pain. Now I just need to teach you to also be turned on by submitting to your Master, Trevor.”

“I would like that, sir,” she whispered.

If she could have that same sexual desire to submit, instead of to disobey and get punished for the fun of it, then she could make Trevor a very happy man. But her natural way had always been to be aroused by pain, not by the pleasure of submitting. Even sex didn’t turn her on, unless it was rough sex, sex where she was held down, fingers gripping her wrists hard enough to leave bruises, or tied down and fucked with an intensity that hit her cervix. Pain sex, angry sex, that’s what she got off on.

But to get off on bringing her Master a cup of coffee in the morning, or kneeling before him? She let her imagination run wild for a moment, allowing herself to see how easy her life would be, living as Trevor’s collared sub and basking in the way he cared for her and cherished her submission, instead of having him tear her heart in two as he told her that he couldn’t do this anymore, that he couldn’t be with a woman who disobeyed him just to get whipped.

Maybe if she could learn to let go and truly submit, she could let go of her hurt and let herself be open to love. Love, even if it ended in heartbreak. Could she?

Another hard pinch, this time on her nether lips. She gasped, the pain flooding her system with endorphins.

Roman’s voice was soft but strong. “We will make you like Pavlov’s dogs, who drooled at the sound of a bell because they got a treat when the bell rang. After a while, they salivated at the bell even when there was no treat.”

She nodded, the blood rushing to her head from bending over for so long.

“Lie down on the ground, where you’ll sleep, Elisabeth.”

She did as he said, her pussy swollen and needy from the pain. But it was clear he wasn’t going to fuck her, not if she was sleeping on the ground and he was already tucked in for the night.

“You will submit to everything I say, and I will hurt you each and every time,” he explained, rolling over and looking down into her eyes.

She stared up at him, naked on the cold hardwood floor. How would she sleep like this?

“It sounds counterintuitive, perhaps, but you need the pain the way Trevor needs the submission. Disobeying will not bring you the punishment you crave. Only obeying will.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Spread your legs. I’m going to fall asleep to the sounds of you playing with yourself until you come.”

The pain earlier had made her ready for an orgasm, but she never felt right about making herself feel good. Orgasms had to be ripped from her, forced from her until she was gasping for air and coming against her will. Still, starting the training off by disobeying would be pointless. The sooner she got the seal of approval from Roman the sooner she could go back to Trevor.

If he still wanted her.

Spreading her legs, Elisabeth tentatively reached down and touched herself, finding herself dry already, and in no mood to play with her clit.

Roman lit a candle on his bedside table, to see her better, she supposed. Rubbing fast little circles on her clit, she tried to get into but couldn’t.

“Good girl,” he said, and heat scorched her exposed breasts.

Opening her eyes as the skin on her breasts burned, she kept masturbating, finding herself slippery now.

He’d spilled the candle wax on her skin as reward for obeying him.

With a breathy shudder, she came, her fingers falling from her cunt, shiny with her juices.

“Now go to sleep.” Roman blew out the candle and rolled over, leaving her naked and spent on the floor, the candle wax already drying and flaking off her breasts.