The Alexandra Series

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  Gus, of course, loomed large over her at the dawn and sunset of every day. There with his paddle, belt or crop, he made sure the fire in her bottom was constant. Morning and night he appeared in her doorway, always the same expression on his face. It wasn’t completely blank, just passionless in a restless sort of way, as if there was always some darkness brewing inside him. For as long as she’d known the man, however, he was always the same. Whatever was about to explode within him remained duly contained. Alexandra was sure that it had something to do with his high regard for his boss. She didn’t want to think about what utter calamity might be unleashed if the man was not bridled in some way. She decided that moments like this, when Reggie had some other submissive to ‘instruct’, were an outlet for the man’s dark needs.

  Five days after this current imprisonment began, Alex walked through the main door of the estate house after work. It was about six o’clock. Her plans were as they’d been the day before. Remove her clothes and remain in her room. Rest if that was possible. Read, yes, she now had some magazines and books. And think, which was by far the worst. It was a dismal prospect, but one she was still willing to endure if it meant eventually getting her back to Will.

  “Alexandra,” she heard Reggie’s sharp voice coming from the living room. He halted her progress to the back hallway and motioned her to him. “I want you to meet Gwen,” he said, introducing her to the woman sitting on the couch.

  Alex nodded, keeping her real feelings for the woman guarded. A pair of effervescent eyes gazed up at her looking a little startled.

  “So, you’re staying here?” Gwen asked.

  “A favor to her husband,” Reggie answered for her

  “I suppose you’re submissive to Reggie, too?” Gwen wondered aloud, noting the subdued look on her face.

  “In this case most definitely,” Alex confirmed.

  “Alex sometimes needs reminders. Don’t you, my dear?”

  “Yes, yes, sir,” she thought to include the formality.

  “Alexandra, I’d like you to take off your clothes and show Gwen your harness,” Reggie went on.

  “Here? Oh, but Reg…” the objection began, but thinking better of it she stopped for a moment and just stared at the two. There were a dozen thoughts popping in her head, things she wanted to say to the man, but it was not the time and place in front of this woman. Not hesitating too long, she finally gave in to the command and began unbuttoning her suit jacket. There was a blouse, slip and skirt to follow. She finished off removing the garter belt and hose that got in the way of Gwen seeing the complete picture.

  Her hand went to her gaping expression. “Oh my, that is extreme, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, on Reggie’s scale of devious delights it ranks about in the middle,” Alex quipped.

  Reggie looked at her scowling. “You may keep your comments to yourself, Alexandra. Turn around.”

  Alex’s back side was more than just a show of leather and skin. What skin was showing, that particularly on her bottom, was marred by the appearance of bruises in various stages of healing. There were marks of roughed skin scattered here and there. And a few red spots still showing where Gus had used the crop that morning and the bite of the implement had cut deep. These latest marks not only graced her buttocks, a few appeared on her back and shoulders. This had been the most severe daily punishment since the first one at the stables.

  “You punish her every day?” Gwen asked.

  “I leave that for my stable foreman,” Reggie replied.

  “Ooo, that is interesting,” the girlish woman almost giggled as she spoke.

  What a ditz, Alex was thinking. And yet she was very pretty, and obviously submissive. In a way Gwen reminded her of herself a few years before, innocent and unsuspecting. She was a woman toying with darkness having no idea what ship she would sail on and what seas she’d have to cross to find her passion’s satisfaction.

  “Come here, Alex,” Reg ordered.

  Turning around, the harnessed submissive took the three steps to the man finding herself standing painfully close to his cold, masterful mood, shivering with one chill upon the next.

  “This week’s been rough for you,” he said. He spoke to her without including Gwen in the conversation, even though the woman could hear him.

  “Yes, sir,” she answered.

  “And the lesson will remain with you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He tugged the chain attached to her clitoris and she winced.

  “I don’t want you to forget, ever.”

  With his voice like steel, the timbre of its vibration climbed right down her spine and tickled her ass. She resisted the urge to shake off the mounting arousal.

  “I don’t think I could, sir,” she replied.

  “We’ll see,” he said. “I might never trust you, but the man that loves you wants you home. He’s a champion of forgiveness, don’t forget that. Now, get back in your clothes and spend your night with Will.”

  “I’m not coming back?” she exclaimed excitedly.

  He tugged the chain so she remembered herself.

  “God forbid if you did,” he warned. He let loose the chain and she stooped to snatch her clothes from the floor. She was about to fly from the living room, but then Reggie’s voice rang out. “You’re forgetting something,” he said.

  “What’s that?” She turned around.

  Fishing through his pocket he withdrew his hand and tossed her a shiny wad of something she didn’t recognize. Not able to catch the flying projectile in the air it landed on the floor and she bent down to pick it up. Keys. Two small silver keys to her harness.

  “I’m not sure Will wants to use them, but they are his, just as you are. Now behave yourself.”

  Alex was so elated she was about to tell him thank you but that seemed totally absurd. A quick smile was all that was necessary and she was off. Reggie was satisfied, as much as he could be, and Gwen remained a little speechless for the normally loquacious woman.

  Reggie stared for some time at the empty hallway until Gwen finally broke the silence.

  “Were you in love with her?” she asked.

  “I think I was once,” he ruminated, almost to himself, though he finally shook himself awake and looked down at the charming woman on the sofa.

  “What happened to that?” she asked.

  “I think we were too much alike,” he said.

  “How could that be?”

  “Too obsessive,” he answered. “And then I met Jocelyn…” his voice trailed off. In that unguarded moment he appeared a little lost until he grabbed hold of the feeling lurking in the back of his mind and turned his full attention back to Gwen. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” he said. “You’ll wear something excessively slutty.”

  Gwen couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jocelyn and Ian left Germany the day after she was whipped. He woke her in a stew about four o’clock that afternoon. In the midst of throwing clothes in a suitcase, he looked at her dumbfound face with an expression of easy mirth. He seemed less dangerous than he’d appeared in days. She was happy for that. But she wasn’t ready for another swift exit.

  “Couldn’t it wait?”

  “No, darling,” he said without getting upset. He was simply determined and would not be changing his mind. “I’d think you’ve had enough of Germany.”

  “You mean after last night?”

  He almost looked as if he didn’t know what she meant. But then he smiled with the devastating one that perpetually seduced her. “No, I just think it’s getting too, oh, you know, tedious here.”

  Jocelyn could say a lot about her stay in Germany, the word tedious did not apply. But apparently for Ian it did. And she was still Ian’s chattel even though the thought of leaving him was becoming more appealing.

  They took the train into France stopping at a small hotel one night, then another the second day. The third day in a row she woke to have him shake her out of bed so they could keep
on moving. For the most part her companion was his jolly self. They took time away from the travel to poke around shops in the villages they visited and eat some delightfully tasty gourmet treats in quaint cafés.

  Sex was sweet and easy.

  The fourth morning after they left Germany, Ian surprised her with a bouquet of flowers, a French newspaper she could barely read, and a tray of muffins and fresh fruit that slid right down her throat like honey.

  When she finished the meal, he laid her back on the bed and melted a chocolate with his tongue on her belly. She giggled all the way.

  “I can’t stand this!” she squirmed playfully.

  “Oh, you can stand lashes to your cunt and ass and you can’t stand this? I think not!” He was rightfully indignant and kept up tickling her with tongue and chocolates, until she turned over on her side, smeared the melted candy on the bedcovers and had Ian happily engaged in pursing her ass. He pressed his tongue along her cleft from anus to labia. Then he was under her, fondling her, pinching nipples until she shrieked and cried for him to put himself inside her cunt.

  “So you want it here?” he asked, with two fingers inside her vagina. “Oh, I can see you’re wet.” He licked the cum juice off. “And sweet too. Almost as good as my candy.”

  “Do that more,” she urged.

  “Maybe. But I’m in charge.”

  “Please don’t torture me, I’ve had enough of that.”

  “Oh, no, you haven’t. I’m the man of a thousand tortures. I’ve only just begun to attend to you.”

  “But it aches,” she protested. On her back now, she bucked her hips toward his face, hoping he’d move his mouth there. Finding her clitoris with his thumb and index fingers, she was pained to discover that he planned to hold the bud between them while she maintained the awkward thrust out position. “Ooo, ouch, please! No!”

  He chuckled. “I love when you protest. It just inspires me.”

  That quieted her, but her change didn’t stop Ian. He did start stroking her cleft with his other hand, running three fingers deep inside her vagina before pulling out and moving on.

  “Please, Ian,” she wailed again. The spasms in her belly were getting stronger. Some sharp, some long and deep. Then there was that long invigorating moment when he pinched her clit tighter still, applying more pressure a bit at a time. Her body heat shot high. She was sweating as though she was sunbathing on hot sand. She grabbed the covers at her sides and pushed her groin higher to him, hoping that just for one tiny tiny minute he’d take the bud in his mouth and suck.

  Suddenly he pulled his fingers off creating a spike of sensation that shot like a bullet through her body. Her poor clit was left throbbing and unsatisfied when that spike ceased.

  “Now, come in me now!” she groaned for him. Having seduced him with such a wildness of energy, Ian finally knelt between her wide open thighs and inserted the erection into the warm purple opening.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she screamed. The orgasm ripped a wide path of convulsive spasms through her groin. Ian fucking her brusque and deep followed her finale. The man could scream like a whore, or grunt like an animal, and this sound was one in-between the two.

  They panted afterwards as though they’d run five miles. Sweat mingling with sweat made them stick to the sticky sheets. Happily exhausted Jocelyn lapped the salty tang from his shoulders and then went down to his limp dick to kiss it thank you.

  The wind out of their sails they expected to rock on their inner waters for a time before they got dressed for the day. But then the concierge was knocking.

  “Monsieur Pennywhistle. Monsieur Pennywhistle, please open!”

  “Later man,” Ian called out.

  “But you must!” he answered, urgently. “Or I’ll have to use the key.”

  “Sir, have you no couth,” Ian sputtered angrily, though he picked himself up from the bed, hopped into a pair of shorts and opened the door.

  Jocelyn remembered only a wild scuffle following that moment. Being pulled naked off the bed and forced to put on pants and a shirt. She was that quickly under arrest.

  “Ian, what is this about!” she shouted to her lover, but he was already in chains, strong armed by the gendarme that was leading him down the stairs, still barefoot. Another official, spouting French that went too fast for her to comprehend, carried his shoes. And Jocelyn was left with a third policeman standing over her, waiting as she hurriedly finished dressing.

  “What is this about!” she tried for some answer.

  “Be quick, Madame,” he barked sharply. “Be quick.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alex returned home from work exhausted. Not expecting Will until after nine that night she poured a glass of wine and collapsed in a chair in the living room, turning on the TV to flip though the channels. It had been four days since she returned home from Reggie’s and so far life with Will was reasonably calm—though it was hardly back to normal. She had only to move an inch inside the harness she continued to wear to be reminded of her last episode in infidelity and the consequences she brought down on herself. Will had been kind enough to grant her one evening without the confining straps around her. The night she arrived home, he was ready for her body, and not interested at all in chastising her. She thought she’d fallen into heaven pulling out of the leathers and into his arms. By that time, her battered psyche was as tender as a new flower, her body as impressionable as clay in an artist’s hands. Will was an artist after all.

  He demanded a lot from her that night, but it was not without its pleasure for her. It seemed fitting that after moving on her whole body eagerly, with lips that bit and kissed, and hands that mauled her freely, he’d center on her ass. There, his lips rimmed and his tongue entered the aching orifice to prepare her for what would follow. She expected the first sharp jab of his erection to be accomplished fast, though bending as a sapling tree bends with the wind, she moved with ease and swayed with gentle grace. His cock, which could be so rough entering, glided effortlessly into its second home. Her moment of resignation began as she dissolved into Will’s arms which reached around her from behind. While sensing bursts like pin pricks underneath her skin, she went wild with him. He likewise devoured her because she needed to be devoured, taught another lesson in being submissive. Most of all, she needed to keep her thoughts focused on him.

  Since the night that Will gave her a reprieve from the harness, she’d been shackled in its tight confinement. He’d even made certain that the ring at her cunt was drawn up by the chain that attached to her waist. Only when he wanted to enter her did he remove the thing, and just long enough to gain access to the orifice of his choice. In her mind it was a small price to pay to be moving into his good graces again. And there was that wicked charm of her attire that served to keep her mindful of sex and desire every minute of her day.

  “Alex.” A breathy whisper blew by her ear. “Alex, come with me,” the gentle voice pulled her from her reverie.

  With her slender hand in his, Will tugged benevolently on her one limb until he pulled her from the chair liked a wildflower tugged from the earth. He put his nose and teeth to her neck nestling them into her peach-smelling flesh. That aroma her current favorite made him think of drizzling her body with fresh juice and licking the sticky liquid from her skin.

  But he was feeling more malevolent than that, not having yet abused her himself for her latest crimes. When the wilting flower was inside the bedroom, he ignored the bed and pushed her into the unlit bathroom, against a tile wall. Tearing away her clothes until she was down to the harness, he forced her warm skin to absorb the chill of cold tile while he massaged her bottom with an oil that stung on her bare skin.

  There’d been an eyehook high in the ceiling of the bath for some time, since some other moment of sexual domination when he’d tied her there. Using ropes, not leather straps to bind her wrists, he fixed them to that eyehook high above her. Then he gagged her mouth with a washcloth that he tied in place with a handkerchief. Undoing the
leather harness, he replaced each binding strap with rope bonds, tying her breasts tight enough so the flesh was absurdly squeezed into bizarre shapes. Done, he pressed her again to the tile and continued with her ass. Removing the leather, including the waist band, he left the clit chain dangling between her legs. Tying her crotch with ropes he pulled them tight until she gasped aloud.

  Yielding to his mastery over her she felt the cold, the rope, the burn of the ointment and the heavy chain weighing down her clitoris, feeling fear at the source of it all. An ice cube jarred her asshole. She started to shriek, but stopped when Will slapped her ass hard a half dozen times to enlist her silence. Three more shards of ice were pressed inside her. The pain brought tears, though not as many tears as the ones she shed when he began striking her with a cane on her soft bottom.

  “You let the water drip out, I’ll lay on an extra twelve,” he whispered.

  And so she clench the cheeks tight.

  Her body tensed with each blow, with pain that darted like some vehicle out of control inside her ass. The cruel cane accosted her spirit, offering more than just cuts that might bleed before Will was finished. It forced her to face her shame, feel the guilt and Will’s rage and her need to be humbled in his presence.

  Once he finished with the planned number of cuts, he stopped and fingered her anus.

  “There’s water here,” he said.