Excerpt of Enslaved by Shoshanna Evers

Elisabeth unlocked the door and went to the bed, kneeling. She remained as motionless as possible, her eyes shut, to give Trevor the chance to see her before she saw him.

What was going to happen? To spend one evening getting flogged in public was one thing, but to be alone in a bedroom with a Dom she'd met once before was another.

The door didn't squeak on its hinges as it opened, but she heard it quietly latch shut. And a click as the lock turned in place.

She trusted Gregory, and Gregory said to trust Trevor. Which is why she shouldn't be so frightened suddenly. Weren't they just bantering on the blue cell phone not a moment before?

Yes. She could trust Trevor.

She must—at this point, there was no going back. Or was there?

Breathe.

So now she was alone now with him. With Trevor.

Elisabeth could sense he was quite close to her, despite being unable to see him, her eyes still shut. A whiff of expensive cologne that reminded her of something—someone?—and then the heat of his hand on her chilled face.

She whimpered, scared now.

She didn't know this man. What he was into. What he'd do to her, or make her do to him. Men had some kinky tastes, that she did know.

"Are you okay doing this?" he asked. "Do I have your consent?"

"Yes, sir."

"Open your eyes, Elisabeth. Look at me."

She obeyed, and saw he'd dimmed the lighting, casting the guest bedroom in shadow, though still softly lit. Sconces on the walls threw golden highlights across the mahogany furniture.

"You look frightened," Trevor whispered. "Were you scared I was going to slap you?"

Why would such a gorgeous man want her, when he could have anyone? His dark hair, neatly trimmed, contrasted sharply with green eyes the color of the emerald ring her mother had given her before she passed. Of course, that emerald was of poor quality, cloudy with flecks of—

"You need to answer me when I ask you a direct question," Trevor prompted.

Well, then. Let the games begin.

"I forgot the question," she lied, and gave him what Gregory always called her "brat face," but that she preferred to think of as a cheeky grin.

"Then I imagine you're not too frightened to continue."

Elisabeth laughed. Trevor was totally different from Gregory. From the flogging he'd given her at the club it was clear he knew what he was doing. So what did he need her for? Certainly not to practice on.

"Keep laughing, princess."

She promptly shut her mouth, her gaze flickering involuntarily over to the large duffel bag on the low dresser across the room. He'd brought it in with him.

"I don't like to slap faces, but I will make it difficult for you to sleep comfortably tonight."

"Sorry, sir," she replied, as nonchalantly as possible, hoping to make it clear she wasn't sorry. Her nerves continued their skitter jangle, but now she was in her element. She knew how to force a man to earn her respect.

Technically she was supposed to submit to and respect him automatically because Gregory had ordered her to, but that's not how it worked for her. Never had.

"No you're not," he said.

"I'm not," she agreed. "I'm a fucking masochist. A pain–slut, remember? Do your worst."

Trevor reached out casually and grabbed her by her hair, twisting the black strands in his fingers until she felt the sting on her scalp. "As you wish."

Nice.