Enslaved

by Shoshanna Evers

  “If I had known I had money, and I still stayed, wouldn’t it have made you feel better? More secure?”

  “I’m so sorry, Elisabeth. You already held all the power. I couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving before we even got a chance to see if it could work out between us.”

  “I know.”

  Roman looked at her, the heartache he must feel already showing on his face. “Would you have stayed with Trevor, if you had known? Would you have agreed to come train with me?”

  “Yes. Yes to both. I’m almost sorry I did though, Roman, because being with you was so confusing for me emotionally. It still is.” She looked at him pleadingly.

  Finally, Trevor couldn’t hold back saying what he needed to say. “Please, choose me.”

  He stepped close to her so she could see only him, not Roman, not the mansion, nothing but his eyes as he stared into hers. “I love you, Elisabeth. Desperately. I want you to stay with me, despite any feelings for Roman you may have. Even if you don’t love me back yet, please, just stay.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, and pulled back. He could have kept her there, she wasn’t as strong as he was. But he let her pull away. They were alone now in the hall.

  Roman was gone.

  Elisabeth ran to the front door just in time to see Roman’s car drive away. “Why he did he leave? He told me he loves me.”

  “He does,” Trevor said. “But I think he loves you enough to know you’d be happier with me. Roman told me that he was giving you back to me because he’d never want to betray my trust, and I respect that. But no man is that honorable, that unselfish. All is fair in love and war.”

  “To Roman, this was both,” she whispered.

  Trevor nodded, holding his hand out to her. “He sent you back to me out of love for you, Elisabeth. You have a choice. Two men love you, but only I can keep you.”

  “That’s what he told me. That he can’t keep me.”

  “You’re a rich woman now, Elisabeth. You can leave me, leave us both, and choose a different path entirely. But I’m begging you, choose me.”

  She stared out the open door to the green grass and the sunshine. She could be on her own. Or, she could be owned, something she longed for, needed. To be loved and cherished.

  Trevor held his hand out to her. “I will win back your heart, Elisabeth, whatever it takes.”

  Breathe, Elisabeth. In two three. Out two three four.

  She took his hand, tears rolling down her face. He pulled her in close and kissed her, showing her with his body and his lips what she needed to know. This was her future.

  “Teotwawki, sir.”

  Trevor stepped back as if she had fired a shot. “I thought you never used your safeword.”

  Smiling through her tears, she took his hands in hers. “I had to, because this is the end of the world as we know it. Teotwawki. Everything changes from here on out, because I do choose you.”

  “Oh, thank God,” he said. “May I kiss you again?”

  “You can do whatever you want to me. I’m yours, fully. I love you, Trevor.”

  He lifted her in his arms, a huge smile on his face, a smile mixed with wonderment. “Will you wear my collar?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes. Yes to everything.”

  “Upstairs,” he said. “Now. I need you.”

  He set her down and the two ran up the stairs like the devil was at their backs.

  “Your house is too big,” she panted as they ran down the hall to his bedroom.

  “It’s your house, too, now,” he grinned. He picked her up and carried her over the threshold of his bedroom. “I need to have your things moved from the Pink Room to my suite.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “But not now,” he said, setting her on the bed.

  She laughed. It felt good to be in his—their—home together. To laugh together.

  He pulled her sundress up and she raised her arms so he could strip her. Underneath, she wore a strapless bra and cotton panties.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, taking off his own clothing.

  “Thank you, sir. So are you.”

  “Wait. I want to do this right.” Trevor stood up and went into the locked linen chest at the end of the bed where he kept some of his favorite toys. Elisabeth perched on the edge of the bed, excited to see what he would pull out.

  Handcuffs. Her pussy dampened at the visceral memory of metal cuffs biting into her skin. She loved them. They were primitive and hard to escape from, at least the good ones were. Knowing Trevor, he had nothing but the best.

  He stretched out on top of her, pushing her arms up above her head, and cuffed them together. His skin smelled like the ocean, a mix of salt and whatever his cologne was.

  The scent of his cologne reminded her of the first time they met, when Trevor had whipped her at the club, and his amazing scent had lingered when he whispered in her ear.

  Bringing her cuffed wrists down over his neck, she clung to him, kissing his neck, breathing him in.

  Roman had said that masochism was her air. He’d been wrong. Trevor was all she needed to survive, all the oxygen, all the sky.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “I love you too.” He lowered his head and nipped at her breasts, sucking her nipples full into his mouth, biting them until she cried out. It was perfect.

  “Do you want more?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, because I got you some jewelry.” With a grin, he held up shiny gold nipple clamps attached by a thin gold chain.

  “Is that real gold?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he laughed, and clamped one nipple. She gasped, breathing in one two three and out two three four. Exquisite pleasure-pain spread from her nipple through her breasts and body as he clamped the other nipple. “Do you like gold?”

  “Not as much as I like you,” she said. A laugh escaped her, despite her attention focusing back on her nipples.

  “Do you want more?”

  “Always.”

  Trevor spread her legs, attaching each ankle to a spreader bar. Having her legs held open for her made everything feel more intense, and yet she could relax easily into her bondage. Roman’s words skipped through her mind before she could block them out.

  There’s nowhere for you to go.

  Even the memory of those words got her hot. She shouldn’t be thinking about Roman, not now, not after she and Trevor just declared their love for each other and were about to make love for the first time as an official couple . . .

  The first slap of the riding crop on her pussy shocked her out of her thoughts, and her hips moved of their own accord.

  “Say: ‘Thank you for whipping my pussy, sir.’ ” Trevor stood above her, holding the crop with the flat leather fold at the tip above her.

  “Thank you for whipping my pussy, sir.” She meant it. He brought the crop down again, the flat end hitting her clit perfectly. “I love it.”

  The pain intensified and her climax rose within her as he administered more strikes, making her clit red and swollen until finally she cried out her orgasm, saying his name over and over.

  He tossed the riding crop aside and mounted her, sliding easily inside her wet pussy, pounding her with his thick cock.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered, holding her arms above her head, pressing his weight onto her, letting her feel all of him, how easily he could hold her down and take her.

  She’d made the right choice. With Trevor, she had the sun and the laughter and love as well as the BDSM. If she had chosen Roman, her world would have been darker. The sex would have been great, but she’d forget to smile and tease.

  Just as Roman would.
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  With a final thrust, Trevor came inside her. She pulled her handcuffed wrists forward, down over the back of his neck, and kissed him until they were both out of breath.

  “What about Roman?” she said.

  Trevor unlocked her handcuffs and kissed each wrist carefully. “He’s still my best friend, him and Marc. And we still run the Brooks Wilde Chase Fund together.”

  “I know, but I feel—guilty, I guess. Being so happy when he’s not.”

  “I’ve been through heartbreak before,” Trevor said. “When my marriage dissolved. Roman and Marc were there for me, taking me to out to WhipperSnapper, and telling me that I’d find another girl. The right girl. And that’s what we’re going to do for him.”

  “We’re going to find Roman another submissive?”

  “Not just any submissive. He’s been through too many to count. Someone special, like you.”

  “He thinks he’s still in love with me,” she whispered.

  “I know. But you’re mine.” He pulled her in close, his words reverberating throughout her very being.

  “Yes, I’m yours,” she whispered. “I’m yours, Trevor. Fully.”

  The invitation arrived on Trevor’s desk a few weeks later. It looked like a wedding invitation, if wedding invitations came in a glossy black with a pair of novelty mini-handcuffs in the envelope.

  He called Elisabeth. His slave, his submissive. His love. “Come to my office, you’re going to want to see this.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m still in my bathing suit, should I change or do you mind if I drip a little water on your desk?”

  “Come as you are, but for heaven’s sake bring a towel this time.,” He laughed. “The male staff here are useless for a half hour after you walk by in your bathing suit.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  She’d gotten so much better at actually listening to him, and talking with him about what she needed. Now when he asked her to come to him, she didn’t linger in the hopes of getting punished. She knew she’d get whipped to her heart’s content every night just for being a good slave. Sometimes on the weekends they visited WhipperSnapper in the city to allow for her exhibitionist streak.

  But it looked like they’d be heading over to the club sooner than he’d planned.

  “Here I am, sir, soaking wet as promised,” she announced, stepping into his office. She’d towel-dried herself off and wasn’t actually dripping on his floor.

  “You don’t look soaking wet.”

  “Well, I wasn’t talking about my bathing suit.” She grinned mischievously and his gaze drifted down her body to the delicious junction of her thighs.

  “You’re getting me all distracted,” he chuckled. “Oh, before I forget, my accountant forwarded this letter to us, since you gave the money to that sober house in memory of your mother. I thought you might want to handle anything regarding that.”

  “Yes!” She took the envelope, which bore his CPA’s return address, from his hand. Inside was another envelope, unopened, with a handwritten letter inside. She read quickly, tears glistening in her eyes.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes. Look, you can read it. From the two million dollars you gave me to give to charity. I swear it felt like fake money when I was writing those checks and wiring funds, but seeing this, it makes it so . . . real.”

  Forgive my handwriting, I’m not used to writing with a pen, but I couldn’t find an email address for you, whoever you are in charge of Maggie Anderson’s estate, that she gave so much money to help recovering addicts like me.

  I just want to say that I hit rock bottom and couldn’t afford the program that is what finally got me clean and sober. They told me I got the entire fee waived because of the donation made in memory of Mrs. Maggie Anderson. I didn’t know Maggie, but she saved my life with that money. I was gonna die.

  My kids are really glad to have me home. If I ever think about using again, I’m going to open up my Big Book, call my sponsor, pray to my higher power, and I’m gonna think about Maggie, because I know how she died. They told me. I don’t want to die like her, but I’m so grateful she gave me a chance to live.

  Thank you, sorry to bother you with my ramblings. Just so grateful.

  All my best,

  Krystal B. (clean and sober going on 91 days)

  Elisabeth was still smiling when he finished reading. “Can I keep that letter, sir?”

  “Of course. It’s yours. And you can find as many charities as you want to donate to, we could have fund-raisers, even. Whatever you want. I like seeing you happy like this.”

  She grinned. “So was that what you brought me to see? It sounded almost like an afterthought when I walked in.”

  “Ah, no. This is what I wanted you to see. We’re invited to the collaring of Gregory’s slave Andrew.” He handed her the invitation, which she read carefully.

  “Does that bother you, honey?” he asked. After all, she had been with her former Master for years.

  Elisabeth had tears in her eyes when she looked up from the invitation.

  “I shouldn’t have shown you, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. We don’t have to go.”

  “No,” she said, blinking back the tears. “I really am . . . so happy for them. Happy for Gregory, that he finally found true love. I’m sure next year we’ll be getting their wedding invitation as well.”

  “So you want to go?”

  “Of course! We’ll get them a present, something that Gregory will get a kick out of.”

  Trevor stepped around his desk and took the invitation from her. “Elisabeth, you know Roman and Marc were probably invited as well, since they’re regulars at the club. Are you okay with that?”

  She paused. “You have to let Roman be in the same room as me at some point, Trevor. He’s your best friend, and I’m your fiancée. Both of you guys have to move forward.”

  “If I asked Roman to not go, to keep things from being awkward, he’d understand. He’d stay home. It’s not like Gregory meant anything near to Roman as Gregory means to us. We should be at the collaring ceremony, but Roman doesn’t need to be.” He started to pull her into his arms, but she backed away. “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t want to get you all wet,” she whispered.

  Trevor breathed deeply, a trait he’d learned from her. “I don’t like it when we talk about Roman and you become defensive and aloof.”

  “I don’t mean to be, sir.”

  “Fine. We’re going to the collaring ceremony, and so is Roman. It’ll be good for him to see us together, as a couple. Maybe it will help pound it into his thick skull that you and I are together. That you belong to no one but me.”

  “He’ll be hurt. But yes, I think you’re right.” She smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Eyes that were glassy with tears again.

  “Don’t back away from me. I don’t care if I get wet.” He pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a bear hug. “I love you, Elisabeth. And I will do everything in my power to keep you, even if it means losing Roman.”

  The night of Gregory and Andrew’s collaring ceremony, Elisabeth couldn’t stop fidgeting while Julian did his best to make her presentable before they left for the club.

  “Girl, tap that foot one more time. I dares you,” he grumbled.

  “Sorry, Julian.” She stopped tapping her foot. “I’m excited about tonight, but I’m kinda stressed out too.”

  “You want some something? Little blue pill, maybe, to calm them nerves?”

  The offer was tempting. Very tempting. “No, thanks,” she sighed. “I’m such a lightweight that I’d probably end up passing out and missing the collaring entirely.”

  Julian laughed. “Then if I poke you in the eye with this mascara it is not my fault.”

  “Gotcha.” She sat as still as possible, holding her breath, wi
th Julian’s steady hand near her eyes.

  “Voilà! My work here is done. You are going to upstage the bride.”

  Elisabeth grinned, batting her eyelashes at herself in the mirror. While Julian didn’t quite understand the whole collaring thing, he did get that it was similar to a wedding ceremony between two men who were important to her. That he totally got.

  “Text me when it’s over. I want to know what the boys wore, everything. I love me a happy ending.”

  “In more ways than one,” she joked.

  A sharp rap on the door interrupted their laughter. “Knock, knock!” came a chirping voice behind her dressing room door.

  “Come in, Adele,” Elisabeth called.

  The woman was even nicer to her than before since Elisabeth had been moved out of the Pink Room and into Trevor’s suite. Now that Adele knew that Elisabeth was here to stay.

  “Trevor requests your presence downstairs immediately, as he put it. You don’t want to be late to the party, right?” She grinned brightly, her overly white teeth shining.

  “Ah, yes, the . . . party. I’ll come down right now.” Elisabeth got up and smoothed her halter top and leather miniskirt. How did Trevor maintain his lifestyle without everyone knowing his business, like they did in Roman’s house? “Thanks a million, Julian. You’re a magic maker.”

  He blew her a kiss and winked. “Go on now, say hi to the boys at the party for me.”

  She took off her stilettos at the top of the stairs and ran down with them in hand, holding on to the newel post at the bottom of the banister for balance as she quickly slipped the heels back on. Perfect.

  Trevor came into the front hall and grinned. “Gorgeous, as always. Carl is waiting for us out front.”

  In the backseat of the town car, Elisabeth snuggled in next to Trevor’s muscular chest. “Will we have a collaring ceremony, sir?”

  He paused. “I’d like to have a private one, just you and me. When we have our wedding, that will be public. And unlike every other wedding here in New York, we will not be removing the part of the vows that say you will honor and obey.”