The Alexandra Series (96 page)

“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.

She had no way to reply with the gag in her mouth.

“If I play here, you’ll eventually lose it,” he murmured, his whole intent clear.

The more his fingers probed inside the channel to where the melted ice cubes remained, the more her body answered, trying to open. Then, there was a trickle of water down her leg. She’d lost the battle there was no way she could have won.

Will stood back and eyed the dark shape of his wife’s just caned derriere and laid the last promised twelve on top of the others.

As Alex thrashed inside the rope bondage, she felt each caustic cut heap on more pain, until she feared she’d pass out. Counting helped her hold on to some bit of sanity.

At twelve he stopped, just as he said he would, and having finished, there was a puddle of water at her feet, chilling her toes.

When he released her arms from above he roped them awkwardly against her cunt so that she couldn’t move them, though she couldn’t play with herself. On her knees on the wet tiles, the gag was removed and she took his cock until it bathed her in the sour liquid that shot across her face.

A phone was ringing somewhere in the distance, the sound rising out of a muddy, thoughtless fog. At first she thought it was a sound from another apartment, then she realized that it was the land line in her bedroom. Ten, eleven, twelve rings, it didn’t stop. Alex heard the noise as though the telephone was right next to her, dragging her with each shrill ring further from subspace, eventually instilling an agitating fear somewhere in her gut. The caller must be frantic.

Will finally left her to answer it, then returned a few moments later. Pulled to her feet, the ropes undone, the caller had to wait sometime for her to pick up.

“Hello,” she said, standing by the bed, ropes dangling around her.

“Alex?” She heard the familiar voice.

“Jocelyn?” she exclaimed in surprise.

Alex sat on the bed, ignoring the painful ache in her behind. Hanging up the receiver she sat for some time without moving and then stared up at Will’s face.

“She’s in jail, in Paris.”

“Jocelyn? Really? On what charge?” He almost looked amused at first, though his expression abruptly changed when he heard her recite the allegations.