The Alexandra Series

by Lizbeth Dusseau

“Tell me you love it,” he said evenly.

  “You bastard!” she seethed under her breath. She may have looked angry, but it wasn’t anger she was feeling and they both knew it.

  Will smirked and dropped her head to the table.

  “Don’t hold back,” he told the men.

  ***

  “You remember what it’s like to have your ass abused, I mean really abused, not some creative punishment with the finesse of a master, but what’s hard and fast and demanding? You remember Gus, don’t you? He’ll use the strap, flail on her naked bottom till it’s raw, and then perhaps, take up a wood paddle so there’s nothing but pain, and a shrieking woman. He’ll strike her thighs and ass until she’d exhausted. Then Kevin, the much more artful Kevin will take over.”

  Alex was raw inside, feeling a savage indignation, that such horrors would be perpetrated on her dear friend by the two men she thought she loved.

  “Don’t look too distraught, my dear. It’s no different than what you endured from me. And you loved it.”

  She was nearly in tears, and not sure why. “But it’s Jocelyn,” she snapped. “How can you do this to her!”

  He didn’t snap back, but spoke simply. “Because I love her.”

  ***

  The heavy belt landed with a vigorous stroke. Gus didn’t use Will’s implements, preferring the ruthlessness of the belt he wore daily about his waist. The imprints on her backside were nearly instantaneous, bringing out the red fire until her whole ass was inflamed. Ah! She might be groaning, might be full of spirit and complaint,” he thought, but she was relinquishing with each stroke. He laid on dozens against the center of her ass, one after the other, until he stopped without a warning. In Gus’s mind, he’d whipped her enough to suit his needs. He nodded at Kevin to proceed.

  The younger man stood back and eyed the splayed behind, noting the bright red color. He could almost feel the heat rising from her skin from three feet away, and he could surely hear the lovely sound of her whimpering distress. The beating had made his cock hard, and his desires raging. She was ready for the cane, which would turn her ass into a work of art. While Gus had done a good job covering every inch that was fair game for a good strapping, he wasn’t a tactical man. It took finesse to apply the cuts to mark her.

  Subdued and crying softly now, Jocelyn hadn’t a hard edge in her soul, just the flicker of fire that would never leave those green eyes.

  Kevin snapped his wrist and the cane descended, too fast for the eye to see.

  She gave out a soft cry, but not a desperate shriek, and a thin red line began to rise above the blush of red.

  Six snaps, six soft cries, six red lines.

  ***

  “There’s no justice in this, Reggie,” Alex vowed, hearing him tell his sordid tale.

  “It isn’t about justice, Alexandra, it’s about love.”

  “How can you call that love?” she wondered aloud, even though she knew the answer, she knew it like the back of her hand.

  “It’s about love. And about power and submission, and going deep. And yes, in part, because the two of you can’t let go of your guilt over your clandestine relationship; it’s about half-truths and glaring omissions, about setting things straight that have been off kilter for weeks.”

  “But Jocelyn?” Alex said.

  “Is it so hard to understand when you’ve had it all yourself? You know how she’s going to feel, don’t you? She wants it, as much as you’re craving it now. And think,” he said, almost trying to be light, “she’s having the joys of two dicks by now, and don’t you wish you could?” The expression on his face was utterly perverse.

  ***

  After Gus had taken her cunt, and Will had aroused himself at Jocelyn’s mouth, they moved her to the couch where she could lie on Kevin to be screwed. Only then did Will remove the fake prick from her ass.

  When it was gone, there was an empty feeling where she’d been so full before; but the emptiness was fleeting. Her dark sexual home was quickly penetrated by a real prick. Invading her in the most humiliating and brilliant way, Will joined Kevin in the crude assault, taking from her the innocence of her well-shielded status as Reggie Harold’s wife. Both pricks rode her freely. She became as vulnerable and selfless as any indecent slut, as vulnerable as Alex or Helena might be.

  The fire that ripped through her was ungodly, the abuse, the vile use, the lasciviousness of her desire overwhelming all control; she had no idea exactly when or how she orgasmed, or for how long. But she realized infinite pleasure in total abandon. Never, never had she imagined…

  ***

  Alex’s pussy was crawling as if there were hands all over it, though there were none. Fucked by a voice, by ideas and imaginary fingers and cocks, she wanted to put her own hands to her cunt, but he’d never allow it. There was no torture more wretched than this. No punishment more apt for a flagrant exhibitionist submissive.

  “Think about it, Alex. Weep a little if you like.”

  The worst humiliation was Reggie, his seeing so clearly how she squirmed inside, how he could manipulate her sexual desire, tease her body and torture her without ever laying a finger on her body.

  “Your jealousy will be a good reminder to you of your own wavering submission,” he suggested.

  Reggie knew her better than she even knew herself, and he always spoke the truth about her sexual needs. Every time he confronted that sometimes murky identity, it seemed she got much closer to the truth about herself.

  ***

  When Jocelyn awoke from whatever stupor had claimed her—it wasn’t sleep or unconsciousness, though she was certainly in a world apart from the real tangible one—she couldn’t quite fix on where she was. Finally coming to, she realized that the other men had left, and it was just she and Will alone again.

  Her hands were still tied with the rope. She could feel it cut into her flesh and expected there would be indentations when she was finally set free. It was odd to think that the rest of the day, she would stare at her wrists and smile. She looked up to see Will sitting passively in a chair across from her, eyeing her naked body, the shredded stockings and the look of total satisfaction on her face.

  “I don’t gloat over things as beautiful as you,” he said. “Just don’t forget the purpose, Jocelyn. And for the sake of Reg and Alex, try not to hate me.”

  His kindness made her want to weep. The affection in his voice was genuine.

  “You’ve made an honest woman of me, Will,” she whispered. “How can I hate you?”

  He smiled. “And just think, you proved your husband right.”

  “He really thought I’d do this?”

  “Yes, he did. I know you did it for love to start. But it was all your pleasure in the end.”

  “I know,” she said. She tried to figure out how she’d get her body to move again, it seemed so fastened to the comforting cushions underneath her. But she couldn’t stay there forever.

  Sensing her moment of distress, Will moved to her side and knelt down to undo the ropes. And with a soft hand stroking her cheek, he leaned in and kissed her passive lips.

  This was where their friendship would begin.

  ***

  Reggie left Alex’s office the way he entered; leaning over her desk, he gave her an affection kiss on the cheek. He was as dear to her as any man she knew…as dear as Will.

  ***

  At five-thirty that afternoon, Jocelyn answered the knock on her office door with a meek, ‘yes.’ After hours of feeling completely subdued, it was all she could manage.

  When the door cracked opened, and Reggie peered inside. “Ready to go?” he asked.

  “Go. Go where?”

  “A little side trip.”

  “Don’t we have to talk?” she asked.

  “About what?” he replied. He’d entered the office and stood in front of her desk looking cool and typically distant, though if she was right there was an added hint of affection in his blue eyes.

  “I should explain thin
gs, shouldn’t I?” she asked.

  “You think I don’t know everything that happened this afternoon?” He sat down in the chair in front of her.

  “I suppose Will told you?”

  “Will told me nothing. I arranged the scene for you, I should know what happened.”

  “I feel so odd. That I’d even do this.” It was hard to explain the feelings she had, though she sensed that with Reggie explanations weren’t necessary.

  “Did it hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Oh, my yes.”

  “Then that’s all I wanted for you, darling, that’s all.”

  “You knew I really wanted this?”

  “That you wanted to go deep, to go the distance that Alex has gone and come back to yourself whole, yes. I saw the need in your eyes when you were with Helena. As much as you enjoyed dominating her, you wanted to take her place.” He let the thought sink in for several seconds then moved around her desk, pulling her to her feet. “It’s like taking a trip down a long and frightening tunnel I imagine.”

  She could easily agree to that. “So it had nothing to do with Alex and me.”

  “No,” he said.

  “And it wasn’t revenge?” she queried.

  “Not revenge,” he confirmed. “At least not mostly. If you want to think it was to appease any misplaced guilt you have about her, go ahead.” He raised her chin with his hand and stared into her moist green eyes. “I wanted to give you the pleasure of your darkest submissive side, just as you’ve learned to pleasure as a dominant. I’ve heard that going deep on one side, you can go just as deep on the other, though that’s not my own experience.”

  Jocelyn smiled to herself. Never in all her days as a confident, well managed person, had Jocelyn felt so weary, so content and so baffled. She’d been on one hell of a rollercoaster ride, and it had just taken a swift jerking turn.

  “We’ll talk more later,” he said. “You’re going with me now.” He drew her from the room with Jocelyn not having the will to protest.

  “Not another escapade like the last, I hope. I don’t think I could take that.”

  He kissed her lips. “Oh, I think you could use another, and many more.” He mocked her with a light-hearted grin.

  For just an instant there was that spark of fire in her otherwise passive eyes responding to his gentle gibe. She’d never lose the flame that created her fire, and he was glad of that.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Porsche stopped just a few blocks away in front of the Hampton Court, the middle of downtown in midst of the rush hour roar.

  “Room 210, better hurry,” he said, practically pushing Jocelyn out the door. Her dumbfound face looked back to him, thinking the brusque send off odd. “Alex is waiting,” he added with a pleasant grin. “I’ll be back for you later.” With that, the Porsche sped off, leaving Jocelyn on the street.

  Once he’d disappeared from sight, the befuddled redhead looked up towards the second floor windows, seeing the curtain fluttering in the breeze, and what appeared to be the profile of a statuesque blonde standing there looking down on her.

  ***

  Alex took the jar of cream by the bedside table and spread it across Jocelyn’s ass. “Who made the marks?” she asked.

  “Kevin.”

  “Just as I figured. He’s the type.”

  “You say that with such confidence.”

  “Gus loves a good old-fashioned strapping. Nothing held back.”

  “I had that too,” Jocelyn said.

  “Yeah, I can tell.” She had such a pretty bottom even with the slightly roughed up skin from where the belt had singed her, and especially where six tiny welts remained.

  “Got the right side better than the left,” Alex added.

  “Ah, that feels so good,” the redhead purred. It was especially soothing when Alex’s hand dipped deeply into the crack of her ass with her well-greased fingers massaging the back door entry, and all the way down to her cunt.

  “Ouch!”

  “Oops, no fingers there,” Alex said, when she hit a sensitive spot at her sphincter.

  “That was Will,” Jocelyn informed her.

  “Heavenly, isn’t he?” Alex mused.

  “Now don’t you go getting horny on me again,” Jocelyn warned. “You know, I’ve planted my mouth at your puss twice now, just because you were so damned needy. I’m ready for something myself and you’re going to give it to me.” Her spirited dominance was returning to her once languid and submitting soul. She rolled over, her green eyes flashing with all the stormy brew of an orgasm building in her depths.

  Alex smiled. “Ooo, you want me to suck you off?” she said, ready for more herself.

  “No,” she replied. “I want your hands everywhere. And don’t miss a spot. Your mouth, your teeth, your breasts against mine…They’re mine, all mine, little bitch.”

  The two woman smiled happily then fell against each other and rolled about the bed, making love across the shabby sheets until nearly midnight when they were too worn out for anything but sleep. In a tryst sanctioned by the men they loved, it was a moment to repair two well wounded bodies with the tenderness of each other’s hands. In sleep, it was a time to repair their souls as they slept side by side, with the affection that had become so dear to them reaching out to the other in their dreams.

  It was an exhausted but welcome slumber for them both; and their husbands, the manipulators of their most recent hours, would wait to have them back again. Reggie and Will would let them sleep, waiting until morning to bring them home.

  Jocelyn’s Rebellion

  Chapter One

  Ms. Killian,” Emma Reed’s voice came over the speaker, “Mr. Trueblood calling. You know the Englishman.”

  “I’m not here,” Jocelyn answered.

  “He’s called three times since yesterday afternoon. I don’t think he believes me,” Emma replied.

  “I don’t care what he believes, perhaps you should be more convincing.” Jocelyn slammed down the phone only to have it ring again.

  Sighing deeply there was a worried, weary look in her green eyes. A hand combed through her unruly red hair—she’d left her clip on her dressing table at home letting her hair dry in the spring breeze. Now it sexily framed her pert Irish features indicating the savagery of a spirit frayed at the edges.

  “Yes, Emma,” she answered the ringing line.

  “Your attorneys are here,” the secretary informed her.

  “I don’t want them here,” was her exasperated reply.

  “But . . .”

  “I’ll see them,” Jocelyn relented, though she wasn’t successful in changing her irritated tone of voice.

  ***

  “It’s a bad season, Jocelyn,” Harry Wise acknowledged the obvious.

  “Sued twice in one month. I’ve never been so popular,” she replied.

  “We should settle out of court.”

  “I don’t have the money. The suits are spurious. And I’ll come off looking like a weak-kneed buffoon who’s way out of my league.”

  “Maybe you are,” Ed Davis suggested.

  “Thank you for such faith,” she replied. Sarcasm had become dear to her in the past six weeks. Rumors, false accusations, her faith in humanity a dozen times destroyed by finger pointing, pompous bastards that had taken her business and stomped it beneath their feet as if it was so much dust. All this because of Ibercon Corporation’s latest disaster. After spending six months consulting time, to have them turn tail on her proposals and tube their company with several moves she’d advised them vigorously not to pursue, she was paying as dearly as the rest. She’d been swept into a black hole where anyone associated with their defunct Boston Project was being castigated by the press, the board of directors and everyone in the business world that watched Ibercon’s demise. Her reputation had taken such a fall she was certain recovery was impossible—though she was still trying.

  The discussion with
her attorneys didn’t end well. Their exit only brought her face to face with the nuisance, Arnold Trueblood, the private investigator she’d been dodging for days.

  “Ms. Killian, or is it Mrs. Harold?” He was in her face with his fat jowls and beady eyes peering out of thick black rimmed glasses.

  “It’s Ms. Killian in business.”

  “Let me introduce myself …” he started.

  “I know who you are, Mr. Trueblood. Please be brief. Certainly you must know by now that I’m not answering any questions without consulting my lawyers and they just left.” The stubby man grated on her nerves.

  “It’s a matter of some urgency.”

  “Isn’t everything?”

  Standing in the outer office where Emma’s trained ears would hear any conversation no matter how muted, the man looked about, then took Jocelyn’s arm by the elbow. She immediately shook him off. “I think in private would be more suitable for this,” he said.

  “If it will make you leave,” she said, consenting to being led into her private office by the oily man who made her skin crawl just looking at him.

  “You remember Ian Suffolk?” Trueblood asked.

  At least he was to the point. “I’m sorry I don’t know the name,” she answered.

  “Ian Bradbury. Ian Pennywhistle. Ian Devors? Perhaps?”

  “Perhaps I knew Ian Pennywhistle fifteen years ago. The others…”

  “All the same.”

  “Then he’s probably the same scoundrel he was when I made his acquaintance.”

  “You know he’s returned to the States?”

  “I wouldn’t know where he is, Mr. Trueblood.”

  “He’s not looked you up?”

  “Why would he? He’s been out of my life for years.”

  “Years?” Trueblood did not believe that. “Didn’t he post a letter to you about six months ago.”

  “None that I received.”

  “And you’ve not received letters from him every few months in the last several years.”

  “One or two at the most,” Jocelyn offered, knowing that it was unwise to have even admitted to that. Who could say what trouble Ian was in. “How did you know I was ever associated with him in the first place?”