The Alexandra Series

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  I ate, saying nothing, obviously nervous but then no one expected anything else.

  “Alex, I’ll see you in the den,” he said when he was finished with his toast. He pushed his chair away from the table and neatly laid his napkin by his plate.

  Though I was only half way through my English muffin, I took that as my cue to leave. I followed Reggie out the door like a dutiful pup, a far cry from the outrageous goad I was the previous night. I suspected that his guests were all waiting for the fireworks to begin again.

  “Sit down,” he motioned to the leather sofa, and so I sat feeling much like the nervous newbie I’d been weeks before. In an unusual move, he sat across from me on a leather footstool, the same one over which I’d been violated during my initiation. He leaned forward resting his arms on his thighs. His entire disposition was much warmer than the cold detachment I was accustomed to. I was taken off guard by this. The shift in demeanor was a stroke of mastery, for it renewed my sexual longing, renewed and strengthened the bond of desire between us – not what I expected.

  “It’s become apparent to me, Alex, that for both our needs, you need to stay to complete what we’ve begun.” A feeling of relief washed through me hearing this verdict, although at the same time I could feel a slew of questions start to cram their way into my brain. “I trust you understand, more than ever, how much this is a game of choice. And if you so choose, we’ll continue to conquer your fantasies. And if not—”

  “I do want to continue,” I jumped in before he was finished.

  He stared at me, and as if seeing my sincerity he nodded.

  “I wonder though, will you punish me for last night?” I could feel a chill running through my body, the question had plagued me since the idea of staying had been considered the night before.

  “I never punish in circumstances such as these. Our agreement remains the same. You follow my instructions as you previously agreed to, and you can stay. You’ve violated that agreement once. I’d suggest you pay close attention to your compliance. I’ll not forgive you again.”

  The authority of command that was his gift was never so apparent to me, yet something had changed. I hadn’t really understood how much this drama really was my creation, my choice. Previously, that had all been rather vague in my mind, something I was doing at Will’s recommendation. But the agreement was clear to me now when it hadn’t sunk in before. I swore to myself that I’d play by his rules. I’d subject myself to Reggie’s domination, knowing that I could refuse him at any point – without the theatrics. But I wouldn’t refuse him. I wouldn’t balk or fight, make a public scene of my displeasure or attempt to cast Reggie in a negative light. I was wiser and this was a new game.

  “I’m finished defying you,” I told him. “If nothing else, I think last night made me honest with myself.”

  “I hope so.” He stood up and moved around behind me and sat down at his desk. The cold wind blew, the detachment followed. And my sexual longing for him had never been so high. Never had I wanted anything more than I wanted him now – regardless of what that would mean.

  I turned around on the sofa so I could look at him. “I’ve been wondering about something, Reggie—”

  “What is that?”

  “You rode the stallion last night—”

  “I took out my rage on him since I wouldn’t take it out on you.” There was no emotion, no passion in his voice as he confessed the truth.

  “Why would you compromise your favorite animal?”

  He mulled the question for a moment. “You don’t deserve to know the answer, but you’ll be forced to understand soon enough. A lesser animal wouldn’t have been as worthy a trade.”

  It was hard for me to hear, knowing how much Reggie prized the horse, and under ordinary circumstances would never have done anything to hurt him. But I understood that had he unleashed his fury on me last night, he and I might have greatly regretted the night even more than we already did.

  “But, Alex, lest your sense of justice be offended, you’ll have your opportunity to pay for last night’s escapade.”

  He dialed the house phone. “Gus, I want you at the house with my leather strap.”

  I froze for a moment as a new fear swept through me. I waited, knowing exactly what would take place, and realizing full well that at some basic level he was right; I craved the justice and looked forward to the pain.

  It took no more than ten minutes for Gus to arrive in the den. His dusty jeans and rugged shirt, scraggly beard and rough hands emphasized his primitive features and primitive passion. Doubled in his hand was a leather strap that would likely extend several feet in length when it was uncurled. I’d seen it before at the stable. Now, as he held the handle and leather looped in his large fist, the sight of it intrigued me – even though it set off a maelstrom of emotion, everything from panic and near hysteria to arousal and desire. I couldn’t imagine the strap was used for anything other than taming a wild beast, though I doubted that Reggie would ever allow it used on one of his horses. The only other purpose—and that instantly came to mind—was for punishment.

  I feared the pain that a whipping would inflict on my body, but I wanted to feel that rough sting. I wanted the fire and the heat that followed. I wanted it to be more than I could bear. My crimes demanded that. I wanted Reggie there to see it. Despite his consistent – and rather silly in my opinion – claim that this was not punishment, I knew he would watch with satisfaction. I only wished that he’d do the deed himself, but that wasn’t Reggie’s style. He wouldn’t dirty his hands with the task, but he would order it done. Always the perfect administrator pulling the strings as his puppet world danced around him.

  “You want to do this?” he asked Gus, as if there were any question about his answer.

  “Yes, sir,” Gus answered grimly.

  “Then tie her to the beam.”

  Gus strode to the far side of the room, and pushed aside the five foot curtain hanging against the wall, unveiling a rope and hook device that slid into the room on a cleverly hidden rail. He unfastened the device and lowered the hook to an appropriate height as Reggie joined him.

  “Alex,” he nodded me forward.

  I rose to my feet with my legs trembling, and fear grabbing me in the belly so fiercely that I don’t know how I stayed upright. Standing between the two men, my body heat rose as their forceful energy closed in around me. I think that alone kept me on my feet.

  Gus grabbed my hands and fixed a handcuff around each wrist, then he raised them high above my head where they attached to the dangling hook. Reggie moved to the side of the room where he pulled the ropes tight and watched closely as my arms extended into the air until my feet nearly left the ground.

  “I want her backside bared,” Gus said.

  “Then do it,” Reggie answered.

  Gus yanked my pants and panties over my hips and kept jerking them down, taking my shoes with them, until I was completely naked from the waist down. The only clothing that remained was a short t-shirt that covered my breasts and the bra beneath. His scowl and determination suggested that he relished the prospect of punishing me – not at all surprising. I knew that just one word from me would stop the ordeal. But as I watched Reggie return to his desk and take a seat, I knew that he wouldn’t exercise that option. I couldn’t lose the opportunity that lay beyond the minutes I would suffer now.

  Gus stood at my backside while Reggie sat directly in front of me where he would see every jerk and twist, every pained grimace. He looked at me dispassionately, remote and aloof. I wondered, as I had a hundred times, what was going on in that enigmatic mind of his. However I had little time to ponder the question. Gus was already beginning what he’d come for. The first several smacks of leather bit hard, and I cried out, though more from shock than pain. I jerked with new each strike, yet the sensation was not so intense that I couldn’t find some pleasure in the heat that rose from the stinging skin. Certainly this was no more painful than the strapping I took at the sha
ck. But then he paused for several moments and when he began again, the blows rained down harder and more frequently The pain rose quickly and became so strong that I began to moan, even despite my intention to remain silent. I writhed in anguish, wracked by fierce sensations that cut and bit and went so deep that I was sure there’d be welts that would last for days.

  I wanted the pain to end, but even more I wanted to endure it for the sake of a tenuous relationship that seemed to demand this as the only way to heal the rift I’d caused.

  My ass and thighs burned from the blows, and while Gus was human enough to ease off from time to time, those brief respites only signaled a new level of intensity when he began again. My body instinctively jerked and twisted to avoid the strikes, but that only made the pain worse. The strap would wrap around my side causing a nasty bite that lingered far longer than anything that struck my ass. I tried to maintain some kind of control, but it was nearly impossible when Gus let the strap fly without pause and my groans became cries then shrieks of anguish. The energy behind the punishment clearly communicated the man’s profound disgust with me. I sensed it in every blow, in the way he’d grunt and spew out his scornful taunts. Keeping my eyes focused on the cooler Reggie, I let those comments pass.

  Strangely, on occasion, I found myself experiencing an amazing bliss, my body accepting all the pain and transforming it into pleasure. A moment later another more painful blow would knock out any hint of pleasure and I’d be desperate for the punishment to end. This crazy back and forth had me nearly delirious, shrieking one moment, moaning the next. My arms ached and my muscles were weary. My flesh was red, raw, welted, worked so thoroughly I knew I’d be hurting for days, with the evidence of the whipping lasting long after the hurt faded. The sound of my hurt changed as the pain became impossible to manage. I couldn’t control my cries.

  Then, suddenly, it was over.

  When Gus stopped, I was sure that it was only another pause in the long ordeal, but then out of my feverish stupor I heard his voice. “I’ll damage the bitch if I keep on.” As if he were angry because he couldn’t continue, he threw the strap at my feet and left the room.

  I barely remember Reggie releasing the tether, or walking me to the sofa. I do recall the cool leather as I collapsed against it and the comfort it brought to my throbbing ass. I have no idea how long I lay there. I doubt if I’d have moved had Reggie not assisted me. When he finally pulled me to my feet, I’d hoped for his tenderness, but there was none. His last words, I’ll never forget. “You’ve created this, Alex. I’d suggest you think on that.”

  I found myself wearing a man’s dress shirt when he led me to the den door – don’t know how that got there or why the sudden modesty in this den of iniquity. In my stunned state of mind I don’t recall much about the walk to my bedroom. All I wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. I fell to the mattress, wincing as I did, realizing only then how much I hurt all over, even if the whipping was concentrated on my ass. Later I recall Athena’s soft hands rubbing cream into my bottom. And at one point I caught a glimpse of the wounds in the mirror, the bright red rash of color and the places where the strap had made distinct red lines across the skin.

  The ordeal was over and I’d survived. I drew some satisfaction from that, and from knowing that I’d made amends with Reggie – as much as that was possible. A dreamless sleep awaited me.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Waiting. Waiting for what next was more painful than the strapping. In the art of making a woman suffer in wait, Reggie was as great a master as he was of executing his nasty schemes. Hours piling on hours were painful to an extreme. Waiting by the pool and in the library, eating in the kitchen, walking in the garden, playing with myself in my bed, waiting was the ultimate torture. Days passed when we might have exchanged no more than a word or two. Some days I didn’t see him at all.

  Nearly a week passed before he finally appeared – quite out of the blue and to my great surprise, announcing himself as I walked through the garden. “Alex.”

  I stopped abruptly feeling his eyes bore into me from behind.

  “Let me see you.”

  I knew what he meant by the remark. No need to turn around, I bent over and raised my skirt to show off my wounded backside. There remained a few places on my bottom where the strap had dug into my flesh enough that red welts and small bruises were still visible on my skin. The rest of my skin was clear without a trace of the rough abuse – except for one spot on my right side where the end of the strap hit and dug especially deep. The mark was small, but dark and deep.

  He reached out to trace one of the wounds with a finger. “Gus did good work.”

  I shuddered deeply from that simple touch, pent-up, needy, grasping at a desire that continued to elude me. Did he have any idea what this simple moment was doing to my sexual arousal?

  “You could easily take another strapping.” I flinched hearing him say this. A warning or just playing with my mind? “Had it been me, it would have been more severe,” he informed me. When I stood upright, he moved closer and began to massage my buttocks with the palm of his hand, and not at all gently, as if he wanted to bring back the pain. I started to object but stopped abruptly.

  “Yes, you’d better stop,” he snapped sharply, “I recall something about your being done with defying me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Remember how this feels, and know that it’ll happen again.”

  Why again?

  “Someday, my dear, you’ll flaunt your wounds rather than be embarrassed by them.”

  I could feel my body heat rise as he spoke. And when his breath tickled the back of my neck I shuddered again.

  At last he stepped back, motioning me to one of the stone benches in the garden. “Sit.”

  I sat, anticipation burning within. I wanted so badly to begin again and end the wait.

  He strolled about in front of me as if he were trying to decide what to say, although he’d already had that figured out. “You want control,” he declared at last, as he looked off over the garden hedge to the valley below.

  “No, that’s not true,” I immediately objected.

  He turned toward me. “Oh, cut the nonsense, Alex. There’s a conniving little cunt in you who wants to control this drama. If you learned nothing else the past few days you should have realized that.”

  I looked at him with lips pursed, and eyes glaring a bit. “Well, maybe I go for control – but that’s really not what I want.”

  “I’m sure we could argue this for days, but regardless, I’m handing the reigns off to you.”

  What? I was dumbfounded, and waited for him to explain himself, but he didn’t.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s your show. You tell me what you want, no mystery, no wondering, these are your fantasies, you’re the master.”

  That’s not the way it’s supposed to be, I thought, totally baffled now. Instead of staying to clarify his intentions, he walked away and I was left alone with my future in my hands, feeling entirely unsure of what to do.

  I swam for days without direction…remembering the strap on my ass, clamps on my nipples, wild orgies, cocks everywhere, pussy in my face…heat, heat flaming my flanks…arrows shooting through my pussy…my body lost to sexual lust…completely lost, no thought, no thought at all, out of control. No! No! No! I didn’t want to be in control! Damn him!

  At night my dreams held me captive, one after another, the darker Alexandra in me fed pictures of perversions to my anxious mind. Over and over again, the startling images fueled my inner fire. My true desires kept knocking at the door of my mind, with me determined to keep that door firmly shut. My efforts were wasted. The desires seeped in all around me, and I knew that I needed to make them real. Time to make my ‘make believe’ happen again.

  I awakened in a cold sweat from the most savage and real of my dreams. I couldn’t contain the lust any longer. It was late, past midnight, but despite the time, I bolted from bed and threw
on a t-shirt long enough to cover my ass – the barest minimum of appropriateness necessary in this debauched household. I tore down the stairs in search of Reggie, feeling quite sure that he had not gone to bed. As I expected, he was in his office at his desk, busily occupied with whatever mundane affairs his sheaf of papers symbolized.

  “Sir?”

  “Yes?” he looked up from his work, not at all surprised to see me.

  I sighed, screwing up my courage, and entered. In the next ten minutes I told him everything.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The evening began not unlike other nights when I was treated to Reggie’s mastery. This night, he seemed particularly on, as if he’d made an extra effort. He was as exquisitely dressed as I’d ever seen him, dark trousers, dress shirt, jacket, no tie. As usual his elegant style suggested the breeding and culture of a most meticulous master. And, if it were possible, his demeanor was cooler and more arrogant than I’d ever witnessed. As was also usual, his brilliant wit and charm held everyone around him captivated. His eyes sparked a little more darkly than I recall, and there was something behind his smile I’d not seen before. I couldn’t exactly define the difference, not intellectually, but there was clearly something in his confidence and intensity that had me all charged up. Perhaps just knowing that I was part of his plans for the evening made me so excited and on edge. It might well be a rough night, but I embraced the thought of that as well.

  His instructions were clear, and I wore exactly what he laid out for me – a skimpy black corset dress made of glove-soft leather. It hooked in front and laced in back, and drew my breasts together, pushing them out the top so that they nearly popped free. When he came to my room to view the results – he was taking no chances this night – he took one look at me and not satisfied with what he saw, he redid the laces himself. He yanked on them hard until I could barely draw a breath.

  “I can’t breathe!” I finally objected.