The Alexandra Series

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “When did you call?” he asked.

  “Forty five minutes ago, maybe,” she replied, not at all ruffled that she’d seen nothing of a tow trunk, and the snow was getting heavier each minute that went by.

  “Where were you an hour ago when everyone was leaving?” he asked.

  “Building a snowman outside,” she said. She offered up a glorious smile that lit her face so Reggie couldn’t help but be pleased by the fresh, natural beauty of her infectious style.

  Still, he hated the way her lips smacked as she chewed her wad of gum.

  “You were building a snowman?”

  “Oh! It’s been years since I’ve done anything so frivolous, I couldn’t help myself. And if you don’t mind my saying so, things were getting rather boring in here.”

  “Who are you?” Reggie asked again, realizing that he’d never laid eyes on the woman.

  “Jocelyn Killian,” she repeated.

  “I know that, but who are you?”

  “You mean, why am I here?” She had a sweet smirk on her face.

  He waited silently for an answer.

  She rose from her seat, “I’m a management consultant, Killian Management Resources.” She held out her hand to Reggie. “Dwight hired me for a six months productivity study.”

  “Ah!” Reggie remembered now. “So I hired a firm that builds snowmen?”

  “This was a pleasure event I was told,” she said. She was still chewing gum, and it still annoyed him. But he was not at all annoyed by her looks, especially the delicate changing green hue of her sparkling eyes. He recognized a warmth and tenderness from her that seemed odd considering the hard driving reputation of her firm.

  “Well,” he said, “we should have met before when we could talk, and we’ll certainly have to make arrangements when we’re in the office, Tuesday perhaps. But now, we’d better get you down the road before you get snowed in with me.”

  “Um, my car?” she reminded him, walking to the window. He joined her looking out at the fast falling snow.

  For just an instant standing close to her, Reggie felt her warm body graze against his own. He liked the feeling though the sound of gum smacking lips was too much. “Would you please put that gum in the trash!” he said when she turned around.

  The request shocked her, but taking the graying gum from her mouth she looked around for a place to deposit it, finding a wastebasket near.

  “Maybe, I should call the garage again,” she said. She could tell her welcome was running out.

  While she made her call, Reggie disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later as Jocelyn Killian put the phone down.

  “I’m afraid the garage won’t be coming out with the tow truck,” she said, feeling a little lost for what to do next.

  “I see.”

  “They said they were flooded with calls, and getting all the way out here would be too difficult.”

  “Perhaps I should try to get your car started,” Reggie offered. He walked toward the door, grabbed his jacket and set off for the silver blue Mazda, the only car remaining other than his own. He knew that even if he could get Miss Killian’s car started, it might be extremely difficult to get it down the drive. But not wanting an uninvited house guest for the evening, no matter how pretty she was, he decided he had to try. Climbing into the vehicle, Jocelyn handed him the keys, and with a little patience he toyed with it until he had the engine running.

  “You’re a miracle worker!” she exclaimed. But as Reggie put the vehicle in gear, he looked around seeing that nearly a foot of snow had fallen and more was coming down. The green eyed woman was going nowhere that night. He turned off the ignition and sat back in the seat, an unequivocal expression of disgust on his face. Jocelyn instantly sensed his irritation.

  “Why don’t I try, what would it hurt?” she suggested.

  “You’re not leaving here,” Reggie snapped. “Not tonight.” He exited the car and closed the door, trying not to slam it.

  Returning to the Lodge, the two spent five minutes dusting themselves off in the doorway, neither comfortable with the situation or the gloomy silence.

  “Well, Jocelyn Killian, there’s a room, upstairs, second door on the left, down the hallway. The sheets are fresh and you can sleep there tonight,” he informed her, maintaining a formal and uneasy distance.

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” she apologized. “I should have had someone else try when it didn’t work for me.”

  “Nothing we can do about it now,” Reggie conceded.

  Jocelyn stared at him with a curious expression on her face. “You know for a man that can be so enchanting, you are cold as ice.”

  He looked surprised, not by the assessment, but the fact that she would so easily voice it. “And that’s a problem for you?” he asked.

  She continued to stare at him. “No, I guess it shouldn’t be,” she said. She sighed heavily, picked up her over-night bag and went upstairs.

  An hour later, Jocelyn came downstairs to see Reggie sitting by the fire he’d just stoked.

  “I hope you didn’t expect me to stay in my room,” she said.

  “No, not at all.” His overt annoyance seemed to have disappeared. “In fact, I made some sandwiches and there’s some chili you can microwave in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

  Jocelyn was slightly warmed by the more amiable Reggie, and she quickly padded off to the kitchen. She was famished. Returning to the living room, she sat down with her dinner, and for the first time looked about the enormous room with a careful scrutiny. She found Reggie’s taste in furnishings unique, seeing some unusual decorations on the walls. She was tempted to ask about them, but sitting across from her in an easy chair, he was so engrossed with work papers, she kept mum.

  “That was very good, thank you,” she said, finishing the meal. “I’ll just take this to the kitchen.”

  Reggie looked up and nodded at her absently.

  Returning from the kitchen, Jocelyn wandered about, taking some time to inspect a curious exhibit on the far side of the great room. Attached to the wall was a display of ancient leather paraphernalia, whips, leather collars, chains, straps and a variety of implements like nothing Jocelyn had ever seen before. The intention of this collection eluded her.

  “What’s all this?” she asked, too intrigued to contain the comment.

  “They are tools for punishment,” Reggie said.

  “Really?” she replied.

  She ran her hand along a leather strap and shivered.

  “Punishing who?” she asked.

  “Bratty woman,” Reggie said arrogantly.

  She nodded, getting pictures in her head that were strangely compelling.

  “They’re quite old,” she remarked. “I suppose they were used a very long time ago.”

  “I use them now,” Reggie informed her.

  “Now?”

  “Miss Killian, I am a sexual dominant. There are times in my sexual practices that I use such instruments on needy females.”

  A warm feeling began to rise deep in her belly, something not unfamiliar. But it was odd to attach it to these strange curiosities. “You use this strap on a woman’s ass?” She was dumbfounded at the thought.

  “When it’s appropriate.”

  “And when is that?” she probed.

  “When they ask for it, when they misbehave, when they piss me off, and when they ask a lot of questions.”

  “Oh. I suppose I’m bothering you?”

  “It’s beyond that point,” he said. “When I’d planned to have a quiet weekend, I end up with a loquacious and mechanically inept management consultant.”

  “You must really practice being an ass.”

  He looked at her piqued, all the more that she would snap at him and he had no recourse to reply the way he was used to. “Did you sign a contract with Dwight?” Reggie asked.

  “Yes. $30,000, two months, iron clad. $10,000 every month thereafter.” She smirked at him as she turned away, and waltzed t
oward the back of the room. For good measure, she drew two sticks of juicy fruit from her pocket and put them in her mouth, making sure to smack her lips like a teenager just to annoy him. She’d never met anyone quite like Reggie Harold. He was certainly one of the most handsome men she’d ever laid eyes on, he was clearly the most arrogant, and without a doubt the most cold.

  Jocelyn continued her journey through the downstairs room. “Awfully big house for just one man. You ever share this with anyone?” she asked.

  “Many times,” he said flatly as he continued with his reading.

  The fire crackled, and Jocelyn smacked her lips. It was all the sound in the room for a time.

  “Are you going to be this annoying to work with on a regular basis,” Reggie blurted out.

  Jocelyn whipped around and focused her complete attention on the man. “I’m hardly louder than your fire,” she replied.

  “But that is soothing, and you are not.”

  “Well you don’t have to get surly. Then again, I suppose you’re used to being this way.”

  “I rescue you tonight, give you my food and a place to sleep. It seems you could accommodate my need for quiet,” he snarled.

  “You know, I don’t have to put up with men like you, and I can certainly tell when I’m not wanted.” Jocelyn marched up the stairs angrily, as Reggie watched her lovely rear end swish back and forth in the skin tight leggings. She mounted the staircase and then disappeared into her room.

  Going back to his work, Reggie was hardly aware of her reappearance until he heard the latch on the front door click. Jumping up from his chair, he went to the foyer to see Jocelyn walking out the door bag in hand.

  “Where the hell are you going?” he bellowed.

  “I told you, I don’t have to stay; I’ll get that car to town if I have to push it, or maybe I’ll just hike,” she said, her green eyes flashing.

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” Reggie exclaimed.

  He had her by the arm, but Jocelyn wrenched away from his grasp and bolted out into the cold snow. He barreled after her until he realized that he only had his slippers on, and he had to return to the Lodge to find his boots. By the time he reached the door again, Jocelyn was in her car, gunning the engine and spinning the tires in the thick snow.

  Making his way swiftly toward the vehicle, Reggie tried opening the driver side door. “You little bitch,” he seethed, when he found it locked.

  To that comment Jocelyn turned to him and glared with a saucy triumphant expression.

  He was appalled by her foolishness. He’d never met anyone quite like her. Standing back, he coolly raised his eyebrows, shook his head and finally turned away, as she watched him through the window. She was going nowhere in this godawful snow and they both knew it. However, twenty feet from the house, he heard the car door open and Miss Killian emerge. Expecting her to follow him, he was surprised to turn and see her making her way through the snow toward the road. He called to her, but she refused to acknowledge him, if she heard him at all. Taking off after her, he caught up with the determined redhead, and grabbed her by the arm.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” he said.

  “Get your hands off of me!” she roared.

  “Then get back in the Lodge, you won’t make it to the road.”

  “No!” she barked.

  “I’ll carry you then.”

  “I’d like to see that!”

  To her shock, Reggie jerked her bag from her arm, picked her up and carried her to the house over his shoulder.

  “My stuff!” she protested loudly when they reached the front door.

  “Get inside and I’ll go back for it.”

  It had been a long time since Jocelyn had allowed a man to order her around like this, but her better judgment won out over anger, and she relented.

  Once he was back inside again, Reggie eyed the sassy redhead with an icy hot expression. They were standing in the back of the great room face to face, just a few feet apart.

  “I ought to blister your ass for that!” he said, thinking aloud.

  “Oh really? Well, why don’t you?” she snapped nastily.

  That was enough! He made his decision in an instant. The challenge was out, and taken. “You don’t have to ask twice, bend over,” he said, pointing to one of the leather chairs in the living room. He was already drawing his leather belt from his pants.

  “Oooo, just like daddy’s,” she mocked him.

  “You want it or not?” he asked.

  “If you dare!” Jocelyn was enjoying herself, having no idea what she was getting into; but the night had been so boring up to that point, how could a belt across her bottom be that bad? Might really spice things up. Sashaying her rear end like a two bit whore, she moved to the leather chair. “But, I thought spankings were suppose to be over the lap,” she said, as she looked back at him with a taunting pout.

  “You don’t deserve that much,” he snapped.

  Pushing her down against the chair, Jocelyn’s bottom became a delectable target, raised high and ready, clearly a perfectly spankable butt: two firm cheeks pressed against the tight lycra ski pants. Reggie could almost see the crack between.

  Letting his leather belt sing though the air, it landed squarely on the center of Jocelyn’s bottom. She hardly flinched, though then why should she with all the padding between her bare skin and the leather belt. A good dozen repeated smacks, and she was hardly affected by the blast at all.

  Deciding he’d never get his message across or vent his own anger, Reggie grabbed the waistband of her pants. Finding no snap or button, he simply jerked them down with a rough yank. The long johns and pants came down at the same time, to reveal her luscious naked buns. Not even the faintest blush had risen on her creamy white dimpled skin.

  Jocelyn was flustered not expecting to be so exposed.

  “You want it, you’ll get it the ‘right’ way,” Reggie informed her coldly.

  “Go ahead, you vile man,” she seethed, even as she grit her teeth, wondering exactly what it would feel like to have herself strapped naked.

  She didn’t have long to wait to find out, as Reggie was ready with the belt, laying six swift cuts on the center of her ‘virgin’ behind. The pain was fierce from the beginning, and she cried loudly as the thrilling snap of leather against her skin sent a shock wave though her system that awakened every bit of sexual energy in her body. The crude mix of pain and pleasure was an unexpected aphrodisiac. She’d heard of such things, but would never have believed it without this experience with reality.

  The back of the leather chair was a perfect complement to the pain, allowing her to grind her crotch into the soft animal hide as if she was screwing a lover. The impact of each smack just amplified the erotic sensation. It was like dynamite in her highly aroused body. And yet, even as Jocelyn’s sexual heat climbed to a peak, the burn on her bottom was becoming so dear, it was hard to tolerate the pain. And after a time, she began stamping her feet in a little dance, and then issued forth with a lusty howl. “Damn it stop!”

  “Oh no,” Reggie responded readily. “You wanted it.”

  “But, I don’t now!”

  “Then why aren’t you running off?” He punctuated each remark with another snap of leather on her flaming ass. The ruthless dominant could see distinct lines, where the belt hit, but mostly the blush was all just a vibrant red blur on the once white skin. They jiggled as she squirmed, jiggled even more when the belt snapped against them.

  After her protest, he modulated his strokes, some soft, some hard, and Jocelyn continued to respond. When he softened, she almost began to purr with delight, and when he laid one or two really fierce smacks on her sore ass, she howled all the more. And still, she didn’t threaten to run, not even once. He could keep this treatment up for a long time, keep the fiery redhead on the verge of ecstasy and pain, happy, crying, bewildered and eventually content when he finally finished. He knew content would come in the end, it always did to any well span
ked submissive, and it would to Jocelyn Killian, too.

  Just before the end, he dropped his aim to the lovely swell of tender flesh just at the base of her bottom, and then he drifted lower still to the top of her fine firm thighs, just to allow a new fresh sting to impress on her that this was punishment not just some sexual interlude. She let out a spirited howl and demanded he stop.

  But he was finished anyway, and he walked off without saying a word. Reggie returned to his chair, while Jocelyn remained bent over, her red naked bottom exposed to the cool of the air, and the nothingness that remained in place of the hot minutes of spanking.

  She was slow to stand, her limbs feeling awkward – the position had been more uncomfortable than she thought.

  One quick glance at her flushed face and Reggie could see she’d been crying real tears. And her stare was almost alarming. A little fright, a little awe, and a good deal of lust stared him in the face. And then a sassy smirk.

  “I know why you like this,” she said, as she reached down to pull up her pants. It was a bit of a struggle getting the tight garment over her sore posterior.

  Reggie looked at her coolly. “Oh?”

  “You’re turned on, aren’t you?”

  “I punished you Miss Killian for acting like a seven year old brat, why would that turn me on?”

  “Because it did me,” she said, as she waltzed toward the man, her green eyes glimmering seductively. She dropped between his legs and moved toward his crotch. Without saying a word, or asking his consent, or even letting on exactly what she had in mind, she reached for the belt that was now at his waist again, and began unfastening it.

  “You want more?” Reggie asked, looking down in an uncharacteristic daze.

  “Oh, yes, I want more,” she purred, as she licked her lips. She undid the button, and then the zipper, and then reached inside his pants to find a swelling prick. Removing it ever so carefully, her lips were over the head, her whole mouth descending on Reggie’s generous manhood. It only stood to reason that a man like Reggie Harold would have a first class prick.