The Alexandra Series

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  Chapter Seven

  “Jocelyn!” Reggie’s voice rang with an annoying sharpness.

  “You got a problem?” Jocelyn stood at the bathroom door, still dripping wet from her shower.

  “Your ditzy maid is up to old tricks.”

  “Ooo, I guess I have to offer my bottom to you.”

  “Frankly, I’d rather you fixed the problem,” he replied.

  “What’s it this time?” she asked.

  “She must have done something in the dryer.” He held up a silk shirt which was now just an indistinguishable mangled mess.

  “Oh god, this is a mess. I’ll talk to her—and buy you a new shirt, my dime.”

  “Damn right, your dime. Better yet, fix the problem! Maybe use a little of your management genius on this one.”

  “If she worked at the office, I’d probably fire her,” Jocelyn said.

  “See, that’s my point. This obviously isn’t her calling in life.”

  “But she may not have a life if we fire her. Her immigration status depends on this job, or some job.”

  “Does it have to be this job?”

  “I’d feel as guilty as hell if we fire her and she gets sent back. Her home country is not a pretty place these days.”

  “Then consult with yourself for an answer,” Reggie replied giving her a good whack on the rear.

  She started to go back to the bathroom then turned around.

  “You know there may be a solution right under our noses,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Spanking her?”

  “Spank her?”

  “It’s not like you haven’t done it to naughty asses before. You certainly aren’t out of practice,” she said, rubbing her still stinging rear.

  “Despite what you think of me, Jocelyn, I don’t just punish whoever pisses me off. The practice requires the right woman. And if you remember, I swore off other submissives, except in the case of you, and maybe Alexandra when she starts acting like a whining brat.”

  “I know your vow. But this is your house, and she knows what a lusty life you lead. Besides, I think the idea of getting disciplined appeals to her.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Why do you suppose she can’t stay out of the library, even when you’ve ordered her to? I’ve seen her toying with your cabinet of horrors.”

  “Oh?” He looked more interested.

  “Quite fondly, I might add.”

  He looked at her strangely, seeing her eyes glimmer nastily in a way he’d never quite seen before. She often teased him, but there was something darker about her tease this time, and little devious. He rather liked the look even if it puzzled him.

  “Is there something about my punishing Helena that arouses you?” he asked.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “You’re awfully encouraging. It doesn’t quite sound like you.”

  “She’s an alluring young woman. Something about her that just cries out for a good strapping, don’t you think?”

  “I’m the one who’d think that, but you? Are you trying to tell me that in addition to all your other sexual fascinations, you’re turned on by women, too?”

  The question startled her, as much as she’d been thinking of making love to Alex again. “I’m telling you nothing of the sort,” she replied. “But after Helena’s repeated errors and now this, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s deliberate. I’d like nothing better than to watch you work over her bouncing bottom. Nice round cheeks, a blush that won’t stop, her whimpering cries…”

  “You amaze me,” he said. “I suppose that’s one of the reasons I find being married to you so fascinating.”

  “You find it fascinating? You’ve never said that, at least not in so many words.”

  “Marrying you should have been enough to tell you volumes full, enough volumes to keep you reading for years.”

  “Women like to hear it daily, darling.”

  “But you survive without it,” he said, proud of himself for topping her last comment as he walked out the door.

  “How about Helena?” she called to him before he got too far.

  “Well, if you can’t handle it, I suppose I can,” he called back to her. “Have her in the library after dinner tonight. But you,” he turned to point a finger at her. “You’re still not off the hook in this, and I’m not sure you’re even going to get the pleasure of watching.”

  “Please,” she pleaded.

  He didn’t answer.

  Walking out, Reggie knew there was something else behind this turn of events, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  ***

  Jocelyn sat in one of Reggie’s leather chairs in front of his desk, watching intently as the exchange between her husband and Helena commenced. She might as well have not been in the room for the way the two were so keenly focused on each other; it was just like her most intense moments with Reg. Except for one brisk punishment of Alex the first night she met the Kozaks, Jocelyn had never seen Reggie’s severe command from an observer’s point of view. It was enough to make her shiver, all that cold poured out on one poor girl. It was enough to make her reconsider encouraging this solution. Better perhaps she’d just paddled the girl’s bottom herself, and hope the simpler treatment would do some good. But now it was too late to stop this confrontation, and all she could do was passively watch.

  “Do you know how close you are to losing your job?” Reggie spoke to the trembling young woman directly. He was sitting at his desk, she was standing before him, mesmerized by the sight of his harsh but handsome face.

  “No, sir,” she replied.

  “If it weren’t for the good will of my wife, you’d have been gone that godawful week she was on vacation.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Helena said. “I just seem to keep messing up.”

  “Is it messing up or is it deliberate?” Reggie asked.

  “Oh, sir, please, it’s not deliberate.”

  “I wonder,” he said. He rose from his seat and strode toward the cabinet on the far side of the room. Opening the doors, straps, paddle, whips and canes rattled against the mahogany door.

  Jocelyn watched the girl shudder; it matched her own response to the implements dangling ominously inside the interior of the ancient cabinet.

  “Is it a fascination, Helena?” he asked.

  “Sir?”

  “Does this intrigue you?”

  “Oh my, sir.” A blush crept up her neck to her cheeks.

  “You come across as a whining, sniveling child, but I suspect there’s much more vamp in you than you let on. Perhaps a conniving one at that.”

  “Sir, please,” she tried a touch of protest in her reply.

  “You know what intrigues me, Helena?”

  “What is that, Mr. Harold?”

  “Honesty.”

  The young woman bit her lip, which just added to the pitiful expression that she performed so well.

  “You’ve been playing with my private things, these implements in the cabinet.”

  “I…” she was fumbling for the right words.

  “I know the truth, Helena, I want you to tell me in your own words.”

  She gulped, waiting a long time to speak. “Yes, sir, I have,” she finally admitted.

  “And what do you do with these things when you draw them out?” He pulled out a short leather whip and fondled it in his hand, the foot long lengths of cord moving ever so slowly against the palm of his hand.

  Unable to take her eyes off the whips, she blushed once more, her clear olive complexion flushed with a red hue that announced her embarrassment clearly.

  “The truth, Helena.” Reggie spoke coldly, with every ounce of firm conviction of a prosecuting attorney grilling a guilty defendant.

  The young maid could fall down in a heap of tears or answer honestly, there were no other choices—especially since her fear froze her in her place. Running off was not an option when her feet could never carry her.<
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  “I like to touch them,” she said timidly.

  “And what else?”

  Her lips trembled as if each word was painful to speak.

  “I can stay here all day, if you like,” Reggie filled the silent void. “I’m a very patient man. Now tell me, what else do you do with these when you take them from my cabinet?”

  “I pretend.”

  “Pretend? Go on.”

  “Sir, I can’t say these things.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please. Just spank me and be over with it.”

  Reggie smirked. “The spanking would be easier, wouldn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “Don’t fear, Helena, there’ll be that too, but I want your admissions on the record. No one’s going to harm you, in fact, you might get exactly what you want.” There was just a trace of affection in his voice, but it did nothing to ease the woman’s misery, especially when the sentiment was fleeting and Reggie turned cold and dictatorial seconds later.

  Helena looked longingly at Jocelyn, as if the mistress of the house might have some compassion that her husband didn’t.

  Jocelyn felt the woman’s agony herself, the gnawing pain in her excruciating. She was on the verge of pleading with Reggie to get on with the task, but there was that other more devious side of her that found the young maid’s travail as fascinating as it was tortuous to witness. She wanted to see the outcome, the whole thing, as Reggie played out the scene with his impeccable theatrical timing.

  Why had a hundred women fallen in love with him? She could see clearly now, when her own lust might have blinded her before. It was elemental, something that she’d wanted to deny in herself, but couldn’t. He knew the powerful female need to be dominated that resided deep in women like Helena. And if Jocelyn was correct, this maid would be falling in love with him, too. Her husband was a quite master of this game.

  “Helena,” he spoke sharply. “Mrs. Harold is not going to rescue you. In fact, punishing you like this was her idea.” He looked at his wife, as if to say, ‘you really had no idea I could be this cruel, did you, darling?’

  “I don’t know what to say,” the girl replied.

  “My dear, the simple facts are always easiest, just tell me what you mean by ‘pretend’.”

  Helena closed her eyes as she prepared to speak, too much for her to talk and look into Reggie’s eyes at the same time. He forgave her for that and didn’t demand she open them. “I’ve taken the leather things,” she said in a breathless whisper, “the whips and paddles, and used them on myself.”

  “How? Tell me exactly.”

  “I-uh..I lift my skirt or take down my pants and turn about so that I can spank my bottom.”

  “You like the way they feel?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what goes through your head when you’re spanking yourself?”

  “I-um, I think about…about you doing these things to me.”

  “And do you imagine the punishment is painful?”

  “Yes, sir, very painful.” Her eyes remained closed as if she’d mentally placed herself there and was seeing the pictures in her mind as she recounted her tale.

  “And do you spank yourself hard?”

  “Yes,” she answered. The tears were still falling from her eyes, but the trembling was beginning to fade.

  “Until your bottom’s red?” he questioned.

  “Yes, sir, very red indeed.”

  “So hard it’s painful?”

  “Yes, that too, but…but not enough,” she said, letting out a huge sigh.

  “That’s very good. I give you credit for being so honest.”

  The young woman waited for the next question, but there was none.

  “You can open your eyes. The worst is over.”

  The maid wiped her tears away, as she returned to the reality around her.

  “Since you obviously need to be punished, I’ll be certain you will, and often. And from now on, I’ll demand your good behavior and exacting work, or, green card or not, immigration or not, you’ll be fired. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “If it’s discipline you require, that you’ll get. But don’t continue to sacrifice your life and gamble on your future by creating foolish blunders to be punished for. You understand?” His voice rose like a violent wind, wrapping about her quivering form with more ferocity than she ever expected. “Do you understand,” he repeated, when she hesitated.

  “Yes, sir,” she answered.

  “And enough with meekness!” he snapped. “You’re not a meek woman. In fact, you are a woman, not a child. Twenty-three, I believe?” He stared at the maid for several moments. Eye to eye their exchange—dominant to submissive—was a tantalizing moment, so rich in meaning and import as the young Helena discovered herself in the midst of the dreamed of fantasy, even though its outcome would be a painful reality.

  “Jocelyn, get my spanker,” Reggie ordered his wife.

  Jocelyn jumped at the abrupt command. Being as submissive as the maid, she tiptoed quietly to the open cabinet and pulled out the leather spanking paddle. Returning, she handed it to her husband, then shrunk back to her chair to watch the grim proceedings with as much fascination as she’d watched the German S&M theater Reggie had take her to when they were just dating.

  For all the drawn out drama of the beginning, Reggie was swift to finish off his guilty maid. Moving briskly, he placed a chair in an open space in the room and bade her bend over, palms resting on the seat. Helena obeyed while her audience of one watched her nicely rounded bottom well presented, the two distinct orbs jiggling just slightly under her skirt. Reggie’s deft hands reached to the hem of the garment and drew it up over her thighs, then over her bottom, revealing a lovely ass underneath a pair of thin nylon panties. With one quick jerk, he dispensed with her underwear as well, Helena whimpering softly as the cool air hit her naked skin.

  Without further ceremony, Reggie began with the spanker, the leather pelting the submissive behind so that a red glow quickly appeared where her bottom was once pale beige. She cried from the outset, but didn’t scream or wail. It appeared her response was simply genuine pain, the agony of it instantaneous and sustained as the smacks went on without pause. Only when Reggie decided that the pain was too much for the woman to handle did he ease off, so they both rested, though he paused only seconds. Beginning again, he raised the cries, the pain, and the vibrant red, leveling the leather with greater zeal and a harsher consequence, until he paused once more for a brief reprieve. He repeated the methodical process several times, until at last, a moment’s rest did nothing to ease the torment and his submissive’s desperate cries were too horrid to squelch any longer. Her bottom was vibrantly red and marked with savage looking streaks. With Helena still in the midst of the agony she’d been dreaming of for so long, Reggie finally stopped.

  Sensing the punishment was over, Helena started to slump to the floor.

  “Stand up!” Reggie commanded. “And don’t start sniveling in front of me.”

  Getting a grip on her misery, the girl pulled herself to her feet, with her skirt conveniently dropping over her ass.

  “You’ve been punished enough this once. I trust the message is clear?” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” she snuffed her reply, wiping tears with the back of her hand.

  “Here, take this,” he said, handing her a Kleenex. “There’s no reason to be that sloppy.”

  She wiped her tears, then blew her nose and slowly backed away from the center of the room. She might have backed out altogether, but Reggie stopped her.

  “Now that your great obsession has finally been realized, Miss Helena,” Reggie said. “You can watch your mistress take a few necessary cuts of her own.”

  “What!” Jocelyn was immediately pulled from a thoughtful reverie as she heard her husband’s comment.

  “You heard me,” he said, turning to his wife.

  “Reggie?”

  He didn’t answer her, but instead
walked to the cabinet and pulled out a shiny bamboo cane. Once at her side, he took his stunned wife by the arm and he pushed her toward the chair. Her immediate obedience was more from shock than willingness, as she bent over, just as her new maid had done.

  “Why that?” she blurted out, when at last some small bit of reason began to dawn on her flustered mind.

  “For not handling the problem yourself. And because I want Helena to see what she has to look forward to.”

  With the two women in the room both trembling in fear, Reggie raised Jocelyn’s skirt, letting Helena get a long look at the two mounds of white. Then with a brisk efficient stroke, he laid the cutting implement on his wife’s behind six times. The unforgettable sound of the swishing cane was matched only by Jocelyn’s grunting response, though neither sound was as intense as her silent cry that declared this unexpected turn of events to be a gross violation of her trust.

  Within seconds, he was finished. Six red welts remained etched on her behind, with each distinct cut being a cruel reminder of Reggie’s darkest passion.

  ***

  “How dare you punish me in front of one of our servants!” Jocelyn roared once Helena was ordered from the room, and she was in the library alone with Reggie.

  “You’re angry.” Maintaining his cool, he didn’t even flinch at his wife’s fiery retort or her startling green eyes suddenly dark as midnight.

  “You’re damn right! You friggin’ bastard,” she seethed, as she was about to bolt from the room.

  He grabbed her instead.

  “My word, you are pissed.” As if she wouldn’t be. His treacherous smirk made her furious. She tried shaking him off, but his hold was too tight. His masculine resolve increased her fury, but he didn’t relent. She struggled against his grasp, but to no avail. Then at last he backed her up against his desk until her chest was against his chest, their hearts so close they could feel the other beating.

  Suddenly pinned and without a chance in hell of getting away, Jocelyn smothered a flurry of four letter words. Nothing was right, nothing could describe her anger as clearly as she was feeling it. And yet, with his breath, his eyes, even his mouth so close and focused on her, she started to give way, abandoning fury in favor of the sexual charge their battle produced. When she felt his hard cock through against her thigh, she knew she wasn’t going to protest anymore. She wanted him. Lifting her to the desk, Reggie opened her legs wide and pressed his erection into her welcoming home. They screwed arm in arm, clenched tight, loins grinding in a senseless frenzy until they both climaxed. Then exhausted, they fell against each other forgetting everything but their two beating hearts and the end of the struggle.