by Lila Dubois
The second and third floors had beautiful drawing rooms, parlors, libraries, and even a small ballroom. There were also bedroom suites on those floors, ornate rooms filled with antiques, most often used by visiting dignitaries or business people who needed to be impressed, flattered, or both.
The fourth floor had been stripped of any of its original architectural details when it was rented to a garment company and used as a factory. Given that there was no remnant of the original architectural details, this floor had been renovated into seven bedroom suites, a dining room, and a commercial kitchen capable of preparing food for several hundred if he hosted a party.
Tonight they wouldn’t be eating in the fourth floor dining room—though that’s where they’d had breakfast this morning, a quiet affair punctuated by yawns as they began to feel the effects of a night without sleep.
The door down the hall opened, and Alena stepped out.
Alexander straightened, awed anew by not just how lovely she was, but her innate magnetism.
She wore black. A simple black dress that might have been unremarkable if it was on anyone but her. Her hair was loose around her shoulders in soft, dark waves, though it was pulled back on one side in a style reminiscent of old Hollywood.
A blood-red pashmina was hooked over her arms, and matched the red heels she wore.
She glanced at him, and her lips curled up. Her smile was full of secrets, but warm rather than cutting and cold.
He wanted to strip the dress off of her, bare every inch of her flesh so he could torment her, tease her. He wanted to bring her to her knees, even as he wanted to kneel before her.
The captured queen.
She exuded august confidence as she walked down the hall, each footstep making her hips sway.
The queen. She wasn’t captured.
Not yet.
“Alexander.”
“Alena.” He held out his arm. “Will you join me?”
“Of course.”
When he turned her towards the stairs instead of leading her to the dining room, she glanced at him in surprise.
“Skipping dinner, and going right for dessert?”
“No. But I wanted us to dine in private.”
Together they mounted the steps, Alena walking rather gingerly.
“You mentioned that you prefer not to wear high heels.” Alexander said when they paused on the landing.
“Sugar, I know you aren’t suggesting I would wear flats with this dress.”
“But if the shoes hurt you…”
“Beauty is pain.”
Alexander chuckled, as much at her exaggerated tone as the words themselves.
When they reached the top of the stairs, he keyed in a code on the discreetly hidden panel, then opened one side of the grand double doors that protected his home.
He gestured for her to proceed him, watching her butt, which was nicely cupped by the fabric, but not so tight as to be lewd or cheap.
“Oh,” Alena said in surprise. “This is your home.”
“The whole building is my home.” He stepped in and closed the door.
“You might own the whole building, but I got a tour of the first, second, and third floors after I woke up from my mid-day nap, and the rest of the building is a showplace. A museum. This, this is you.”
She gestured around the open plan central living area.
“You’re correct.”
Alena reached out and stroked his cheek. “Back to being my quiet man?”
He shrugged, slightly uncomfortable, even as he was secretly pleased she’d referred to this space as being “him”.
The fifth floor was his private space. No one except his valet and the cleaning staff, under the watchful eye of the house manager came up here. He had his own kitchen and oftentimes cooked for himself, which never failed to make his mother sneer.
The interior designer had taken his sparse directions and somehow created a space that felt right.
The open floor plan had kitchen, dining room, living space, lounge, and library all occupying the same large rectangular space. A dozen evenly spaced windows looked out over the trees and greenery of the park, and had been treated to prevent anyone from being able to see in, even if he had on all the lights, and reinforced with pressure sensors and bulletproof coating at the insistence of his security team.
Alena walked slowly around the room, which was done in shades of blue and green with pale silvery gray accents.
The floor was blue-veined gray marble, the modern but very comfortable couch a deep gray-blue with gray and green accent pillows. Alexander usually tossed them into a chair to get them out of the way, only for the maids to return them to their rightful places on the couch.
The colors reminded him of his family’s residence near Beleu Lake in Moldova, where the landscape was dozens of shades of green from the grass to the leaves of the trees, and the sky above and lake itself added cerulean and azure to the palette.
Alena abruptly stopped and looked back at him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t ask if I could explore. May I?”
He gestured for her to go ahead, then went to the kitchen and opened the oven to check on the plates he’d put in there—on instructions from his chef—to keep warm.
He cooked for himself, the important part of that statement being for himself. His chef had prepared the meal they were about to eat.
When he turned around, Alena had slipped out of her shoes, leaving them by the door. Something about her wandering around his home barefoot made him want to scoop her up and kiss her. Not a pre-fucking kiss, but a kiss just to tell her, without words, how he felt.
She trailed her fingers over the backs of chairs, then drifted to the library area, where two reading chairs waited, surrounded by beautifully crafted bookshelves. Alexander walked over to join her, ducking his head to look at the cover of the book she’d plucked from the shelves and was currently reading.
It was a noir mystery book, written in English.
“Hardly worthy of this,” he said softly, gesturing to the shelves.
“There’s nothing wrong with reading for pleasure.” She closed the book and slid it back into its spot on the shelf. “You have a fancy library with books I doubt anyone ever reads downstairs. Why not focus on pleasure here?”
She leaned back, resting her shoulders against a shelf. Alexander braced his hands on either side of her, as he had that first night in the hallway.
“You are the pleasure I want tonight.”
“Are you planning to have your way with me before doing me the courtesy of feeding me dinner?” She pressed her hand over her heart in mock offense, her accent slow and thick.
Alexander grinned, feeling lighter than he had since breakfast. Since the last time he’d seen her.
“I will feed you, before I have my way with you.”
“Or maybe I’ll have my way with you.” She cocked her head to the side and frowned. “That’s what we agreed on right? You topped me last night, so tonight I get to be the Domme, and you’re the sub.”
Alexander froze.
Alena held the puzzled expression another few heartbeats then broke into a grin. “I wish I’d had a camera to capture that expression.”
“I was not amused.” He’d damn near had a heart attack.
“I was.” Alena ducked under his arm and padded across to the kitchen area in her bare feet. Her shawl slipped from her arms, landing on the floor.
When he’d called her the captured queen, she’d asked who that made him.
And now he couldn’t get the image of himself kneeling at the foot of her throne, his armor dented and dusty from battle, out of his head.
Alexander scooped up her pashmina, tossing it on the couch as he followed her to the kitchen.
Despite his brief protests, she helped him with dinner, popping the bread into the still warm oven as he added the finishing touches to the plates, opening and decanting the red wine, which he probably should have done before he went downstairs.
Dessert was another traditional Viennese dish, Kaiserschmarrn, and discussions of food and wine dominated their conversation.
Alena ate sparingly, and drank only half a glass of red with dinner. When he opened a bottle of chilled sparkling wine for after dinner drinks, she gladly accepted.
He’d have to remember she wasn’t a red wine drinker for next time.
What next time?
“I managed to arrange a meeting,” Alena said after several sips. “I’m headed to Madrid tomorrow.”
Alexander stiffened. “What time?” He cleared his throat, realized that sounded accusatory. “My driver can take you to the airport.”
“Nine.”
She’d need to be there at six, and it was already just after 20:30. “If you would prefer to go back downstairs and sleep…”
Alena set down her glass and rose. She stood next to his chair, waiting.
Alexander scooted out from the table and she sat on his lap, winding one arm around his shoulders. “I want to have my third night with you. But I may not have time to say goodbye in the morning. I’d like to get at least four hours of sleep, and I suspect to do that I’m going to need to sleep up until the last possible moment.” She leaned in, lips hovering near his cheek. “Are you going to keep me awake all night…Sir?”
Alexander ran his hand up her back, found the small tab of the zipper and pulled it down.
“I intend to do far more than merely keep you awake.”
Alexander lifted her off his lap. As she stood, the dress slithered down, catching briefly on her hips. He solved that with a simple tug. She wore a black strapless bra and solid black panties. Simple, everyday lingerie, but on her it was just as alluring as any fet wear could be.
Right now, here in his home, he found her irresistible. He wanted her with a passion so strong and deep that “want” hovered on the edge of “need”.
“Strip,” he commanded. “Then kneel.”
Chapter 11
Alena reached back and unhooked her bra. Taking off a strapless bra was always a good feeling, but even more so when removing it meant she was one step closer to having his hands on her.
As she held the bra out, then dramatically let it fall to the floor, she also let go of the real reason she was here. She boxed up the part of her mind that was furiously working and reworking her plans.
Right now she was Alena the submissive.
His submissive. What was about to happen with him had nothing to do with what was on the first floor of this building.
Alexander sat back in his chair, one elbow on the table. A king at ease in his castle?
Funny, but that metaphor didn’t seem as fitting as calling him a knight.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.” Alena hooked her fingers under the waist of her panties.
Alexander raised a brow.
“The captured queen.” She slid her underwear down to her knees, then let it fall to the floor. “Is that how you see all subs?”
“No.”
Alena stepped out of her panties, then dropped to her knees. The marble was cold and hard.
“Are you going to make me beg you for every word?” She reached up and removed the comb that held back one side of her hair, setting it on top of her discarded bra.
“No.” He smirked down at her.
Alena inched closer to him, until she could fold her arms on his knees and prop her chin on her wrist. “What are the other types of subs?”
Alexander slid his hand into her hair, tugging until she scrambled to her feet, her hands braced on his thighs, their faces close enough together that she could smell the rich scent of red wine when he exhaled.
“The brat.”
Alexander forced her to turn towards the table. They’d shoved their plates away, and that meant there was plenty of space for him to bend her over the table, her bare breasts pressed against the wood.
“Hands behind,” he murmured, tapping the small of her back.
Alena managed it, though it was awkward and difficult to do while facedown on the table. Alexander helped her, his touch slow and deliberate.
“Lace your fingers together.”
Alena shivered, and it had nothing to do with being naked. Her butt was sore from two back-to-back nights of impact play and here she was, in the perfect position for more spanking.
When his hand grazed her bare ass cheek, she yelped in alarm.
“Sore?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m not sure…” She sighed. “I was going to say I’m not sure I’m up for impact play tonight, but I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Alena twisted awkwardly to look back at him, her fingers curled around one another to make sure her hands didn’t separate and slip off her back.
“That’s not something you should say to me right now,” she half warned.
“Face down.” Alexander grabbed her shoulder and forced her torso down onto the table.
His hand slid over her ass again, then he added a quick, hard swat. It hurt enough to tense her muscles. She squeezed her eyes closed.
Another spank, then another.
At the fourth one, she broke. She shoved off the table, her shoulder knocking into Alexander’s chest.
She whirled away from him, backing up several steps. Her breathing was labored, fueled by newborn panic.
“Alena.” The word cracked like a whip and she winced, taking another step back. Her dress was on the floor by his feet, as was her underwear.
“Alena?” His voice softened, her name now a question.
“You said I shouldn’t trust you.”
“Yes.”
“Do you see how I might find that alarming when I’m alone in your home with you?”
Alexander frowned. “You’re…scared?”
The panic folded in on itself, making way to exasperation. “Yes, Alexander. I find it alarming when you say I can’t trust you when, unlike at the club, there would be no one here to help me if you…” She swallowed heavily. “If you really hurt me.” Her fingers twisted together nervously. “It didn’t help that I told you I’m sore and you still started to spank me.”
He crossed his arms. “You’re a lazy sub, then.”
“Excuse me?” Alena’s fear disappeared in an instant, replaced by outrage. She mirrored his posture, arms folded under her bare breasts.
“You’re submissive because you’re lazy. You want the Dom to do all the work, make all the decisions, while still controlling what happens.”
“I am not a ‘lazy sub.’” Alena narrowed her eyes at him. “You can be infuriating. First you walked away because I have an entirely normal reaction to you smacking me with a weapon—”
“A crop is a weapon now?”
“And now you’re calling me lazy because, once again, I am having an objectively justifiable reaction to both pain—that spanking hurt—and your implied threat.”
“I know the spanking hurt. You have to trust me.”
“Lord, preserve me…” Alena pantomimed strangling him, then took a deep breath. “You literally just said I shouldn’t trust you. That’s the implied threat I was talking about. But now I should trust you?”
“I…” Alexander unfolded his arms, shoulders sagging. “There’s a reason I prefer silence.”
“Which is it? Can I trust you? Or should I walk away?”
“Both.” Alexander ran a hand through his hair, then scrubbed his palm across his face.
She waited for him to say something, but after a painfully long minute he walked to the kitchen and braced his hands on the countertop, his head hanging low.
Alena’s heart cl
enched. She couldn’t hold on to her outrage. She walked over, silent on her bare feet. He tensed when she slid her arms around his waist from behind, but relaxed when she lay her cheek on his back.
She’d never forgotten something a fellow sub, one who was married to her Dom, had said back when she’d been new to the lifestyle.
They need us to be soft because they’re hard. Everything the world has done to them...all the scars, they put up walls and only our softness, the trust we give them can let them know it’s okay to come out of that prison.
Alena had thought the other sub was full of shit at the time. She hadn’t been able to hear the truth of those words, because she had her own scars, her own walls.
Now she was older and wiser. She knew her mental health was far from perfect, and her moral compass no longer functioning, but she had coping mechanisms. She’d found a way to live with her scars, put windows in her walls.
She didn’t think Alexander could say the same.
Alena closed her eyes and hugged him tighter. He was at war…with himself. He needed her, if only for this one brief moment.
Alena lifted her cheek and kissed his back. She wished he’d undressed so she could press her lips against bare flesh.
She hadn’t yet seen him naked. It was one of the things she was hoping would change tonight.
But before they could do anything, she had to help him find his way out of the prison within his mind.
“When I pull away, what do you feel?” she asked softly.
The silence was long, but less painful than before because now she had her arms around him.
“I feel like a monster,” he finally said.
“You’re not a monster.”
“Deep down, I am.” Alexander straightened, then turned within the circle of her arms. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust me.”
“Because your monster might emerge?” Alena wiggled her eyebrows and pressed her pelvis against his, hoping humor would work.
Alexander snorted out a laugh, and his furrowed brow smoothed out.
Success!
She waited, giving him time to answer her question, but he didn’t say anything.