Enslaved Page 9

  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 touche
d 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.

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled Gregory’s apartment. Ever since Andrew had started coming over straight after work and spending the night, he’d wake up early and do all sorts of things for Gregory, like ironing his shirt and making his coffee. Even better, he did it in just his boxer briefs and a tight T-shirt, which was even more appealing than having him naked. When Andrew still wore some clothing, it provided Gregory with the opportunity to order him to strip.

  And that was fun.

  Gregory laid his head back on the pillow and took another deep breath, trying to inhale the caffeine from the scent.

  “You have to drink it, sir, for the caffeine to take effect,” Andrew teased, coming in with a mug for him. He must have caught him sniffing.

  “I never should have told you that I do that,” Gregory laughed, taking the mug gratefully. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  “It’s my pleasure, sir.” Andrew paused. “Permission to sit on the edge of your bed, sir?”

  “Granted.”

  Andrew sat gingerly, most likely from the fresh lash marks on his thighs and ass.

  “I want to do more things for you, sir. Anything at all. I want to serve you, if you’d let me.”

  Gregory straightened in bed, grasping the mug so he didn’t spill it. “Are you asking to wear my collar?”

  “Fuck. That’s probably not how’s it done, is it? It’s like the girl proposing,” Andrew said, shaking his head as if such a thing didn’t happen on a regular basis throughout New York City. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

  “You do not tell me what to do,” Gregory said softly. “You cannot order me to forget, nor will I.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “I’m not.” Gregory set his mug down on the bedside table and pulled Andrew down into his arms, lying on the bed. “Why don’t you move in with me, as a start? We’ll take it from there.”

  Andrew smiled. “I will be such a good roommate,” he said, kissing Gregory’s chest. “And servant.” Kiss. “And lover.”

  This time, the kiss traveled south.

  The following morning, Elisabeth awoke to find Roman already showered and dressed. Her body ached from a night on the hard floor.

  “Ow,” she said, getting up.

  “Good morning to you too.”

  “Shall I get dressed, sir?”

  “You don’t need clothing. You’ll be naked today.”

  Okay then, Elisabeth thought.

  “Go to the kitchen,” he ordered. “Tell Mrs. Marsh that you’ll be serving my breakfast this morning.”

  “Naked, sir? You want me to talk to your staff naked?”

  “She’s used to it. You’re not the first one to serve me breakfast naked.” He smiled a bit as if remembering a good time. “But you will be the first one to get one spank with the paddle every time you bring me something.”

  “Right. Pavlov’s dog.”

  “And we’re having a guest for breakfast.”

  “Cannibalism’s a hard line for me, sir,” she joked. It was something Trevor would have chuckled over but Roman looked like he didn’t even hear her.

  “Go clean up and meet Mrs. Marsh in the kitchen. Be on your best behavior, because Trevor will be watching everything we do to see if there’s even a chance in hell you’ll ever be ready to go back to him.”

  In the cold guest bathroom, she took a quick shower and brushed her hair. There was no blow dryer, so her hair lay wet against her back. She twisted it into a neat braid and dried off. It was so weird to not put on clothes and still be considered done getting ready.

  It was too soon for Trevor to see her. The training had barely begun. All she could hope for was to show him that she was trying, for his sake.

  And for her own. She wanted to be happy and content. Roman said he could tune her in to her own submissive desires. If he was right, then she could finally have a chance at being part of a loving D/s couple.

  Because if she could submit to Trevor, then maybe she’d be able to let him into her heart as well
.

  Walking down the stairway to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but feel like she’d never had a breakfast before with more at stake.

  Chapter Six

  Trevor rang the bell at Roman’s house. It would take a while for Mrs. Marsh to answer the door, since she was one of the few staff that Roman kept around and she was always busy doing something else. The woman was so old Trevor felt bad that she had to basically run the household with little help, but she’d been part of Roman’s family’s staff since he was a child. Roman probably trusted her more than anyone else except maybe Trevor himself and Marc.

  “Just a minute, dear,” she said, and the door opened. Unlike his own staff, she wore a traditional uniform, as did the housekeeping girls who came by every other day to clean. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he grinned. He stepped inside and looked around at the modern, if unusually dark interior. Was Elisabeth around somewhere? Maybe he’d see her. It would break his heart to see her and leave her there, but still . . .

  It was unusual for Roman to invite him for a breakfast meeting without Marc. Usually, if they met with one another for work, they all came together. But with Marc living in his penthouse in Manhattan and Trevor and Roman in Westchester, maybe Marc decided to skip the commute and join the meeting via teleconference.

  Roman came down the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Glad you could make it.”

  “You’re all hyped up,” Trevor laughed. “New investment?”

  “No,” Roman said, leading him toward the dining room. “But I figured out how to train your girl. And I wanted you here to watch the first session.”

  Trevor’s pulse quickened at the thought. If Roman said he’d figured it out, then there was a real chance. It all depended on how Elisabeth responded. If she was angry at Trevor and took it out by being noncompliant with Roman, then their budding relationship had very little chance of blossoming into something lasting.

  But if she was open to it . . . Trevor sat at the table, barely able to contain his excitement at the possibilities. He felt like taking the stairs two at a time himself now.