Taming Me

by Alexandrea Weis

  “You sick, self-centered, stupid bastard!”

  He grinned, really grinned, looking so pleased that it made me even angrier. “How long have you been keeping that bottled up inside?”

  I raised my hand, and curled it into a fist. I was about to punch his chest when he grabbed my arm and slammed me back against the dark paneling next to my open front door. He pressed his body into me, pinning me to the wall. I wriggled beneath him, but he held me fast.

  “You are never to raise a hand to me,” he snarled in my ear. “I tell you what to do, when to do it, and you had better damn well listen to me, or the next time my punishment won’t be as kind.”

  While he held me against the wall, a flurry of techniques I had learned in assorted self-defense classes came back to me. Instinctively, I raised my knee to his groin. I missed and only hit his inner thigh. The pain inflicted by the blow was enough to cause him to hunch over, allowing me an opportunity to escape. I was just inside my front door when he grabbed for me. I tried to free my arm of his grasp, but he was too strong for me.

  “You’re going to pay for that.” The fury in his eyes scared me.

  Garrett flung his arms about me, and after kicking my front door closed, he dragged me into my living room. I struggled against him. He held me so tight I could barely breathe, as he carried me to the center of the room. Knocking the coffee table aside, he dumped me on the sofa. I flipped around on the soft yellow velvet cushion in time to see him removing the thin brown leather belt from his pants. The fear in me escalated. I was scrambling to my feet, ready to run away. He was on me again, shoving me face down into the sofa.

  “I’m stronger than you, Lexie. You can’t fight me.” He wrenched my hands behind my back. “I will always win.”

  I turned my head to the side, wanting to cry out. I gasped for breath, as tears gathered in my eyes, and then he tied my hands with the leather belt. My hands secured, he sat back on my legs and began working my jeans and underwear down my hips.

  “Let me go, Garrett,” I shouted.

  “Oh, no,” he laughed. “You’ve had this coming for a while now. You need to know, once and for all, that you must do as I say.” After pulling my jeans and underwear to the middle of my thighs, he ran his hands over my bare butt, kneading his fingers deep into my flesh.

  The thrill of lust his hands created astounded me. I thought I would be repulsed. Instead, my body reacted to his touch with the most intense surge of longing. Biting down on the cushion next to my face, I refused to let him know how much he was affecting me.

  “Time to play,” he murmured into my back. His lips were on my ass, kissing me; his teeth were nipping at my skin. A deep groan was working its way up my throat when he slipped his fingers between my legs and flicked my clit.

  “Garrett, please,” I moaned.

  “You like this.” He leaned over my head. “You’re already wet for me.”

  The thwack of a slap resounded throughout my apartment. My eyes flew open, and then the sting on my behind awakened a sickening sense of dread.

  “Do you like that?” he teased in my ear.

  I squirmed beneath him, but the weight of his body was too much, and I soon grew exhausted. When I settled against the couch, he dipped his fingers between my legs again. This time he slid inside of me.

  I gasped as he worked his fingers in and out. I closed my eyes again, as the heat rose from my belly. When he removed his fingers I opened my eyes, wary of what he would do next. Another slap sliced through the air. This time I cried out and my eyes watered.

  “You have a very lovely ass,” he purred, rubbing his hand over where he had spanked me.

  The touch of his hand immediately erased the sting. His fingers once more worked their way toward my groin, eased into my folds, and mercilessly stroked me, making me moan. His fingers labored diligently to bring me to climax, and just before I could let go, he pulled out and slapped my butt, hard.

  I tensed, and this time I screamed with frustration and pain. It was as if the intensity of my excitement only increased my sensitivity. I was panting into the sofa, the saliva dripping from the side of my mouth.

  His hand once more rubbed over the spot where he had spanked me, soothing my discomfort. “I can do this all night, Lexie. I am the master, and you are my slave.”

  Slave. He had never used that word before, and the sound of it sickened me. Was that what I was to him? Was this what had become of me?

  He kissed the spot on my butt where he had hit me, as if trying to alleviate my pain. When his fingers once again hooked inside of me, I cursed him. He stimulated me without mercy and brought me even closer to the edge. After I was denied the relief of orgasm, he would slap my behind, rub it tenderly, and start the whole process over again.

  I don’t know how long I lay beneath him, taking his punishment. Eventually, when I was drenched in sweat and exhausted from the alternating bursts of pleasure and pain, he sat up, untied my hands, and stood from the sofa.

  I didn’t move at first, I was stunned by what had happened. Garrett reached for my arm and pulled me up on the sofa. Wincing when my sore rear rubbed against the cushion, I felt ashamed. I sat there with my jeans around my ankles, glaring at the point where his wrinkled yellow shirt tucked into the waist of his brown suit pants, too afraid to raise my eyes.

  “You deserved that,” he coolly stated.

  “Nobody deserves that, Garrett.”

  He leaned down, placing his face in front of mine. “You liked it, didn’t you?”

  “No I didn’t. How could anyone like that?”

  I wanted to turn away from his disturbing gaze, but couldn’t. What was happening to me? I used to be so strong, and could turn down any man I found the least bit unappealing. Yet, I could not turn away from him, and the reason I couldn’t horrified me. I wanted him too damn much.

  “One day soon, I’m going to make you come over and over again, Lexie. When you scream, begging me for more, you will be mine…completely.”

  Revulsion roared through me like a river of fire. I stood from the sofa. “That day will never come.” I hurriedly pulled up my underwear and jeans. “This is over.”

  He appeared amused as I zipped up my pants. “Walk me to the door.”

  I couldn’t decide if I wanted to punch him or shred him with a knife. “Get out, Garrett!”

  He took my elbow. “Come with me.”

  I tried to slap his hand away, and he threw his arms about me, holding me against him. I gave up fighting him at that point. I was too exasperated. I just wanted him out of my apartment, to block his numbers from my cell phone, and to never speak to him again.

  “Work on the book tomorrow. I will pick up dinner Friday night, and then we can stay in and work on it together.”

  “How do you do that?” I asked, pulling away from him.

  “Do what?” he innocently responded.

  I motioned to the sofa. “You attack me, tie me up, torture me, and then you can stand here and talk about bringing over dinner and working on my book. Are you completely deranged?”

  The delightful smile that crept across his lips was captivating. I should have been furious with the man, clawing his eyes out; instead I stood there, enamored by him. When he nudged forward, wrapped me in his arms, and slowly lowered his lips to mine, I was downright shocked.

  His kiss was unlike any other I had ever received. His lips tempted me, brushed against mine with such tenderness that I could not believe they belonged to such a fiendish man. I had thought that Garrett’s hands were wonderful, but his lips were a whole lot better. His arms held me tighter, as his kiss became more demanding. When he urged my lips apart, I was helpless to resist. He delicately caressed the edges of my tongue, encouraging me to accept him. My arms slipped around his neck and I surrendered to him, sighing with contentment. I was the first to pull away, afraid of the intimacy of that kiss. Despite having my body naked and vulnerable beneath him, nothing we had shared prior to this had felt as close.
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br />   “Sleep well, my little Lexie.” He kissed my forehead.

  Letting me go, he turned away, and opened my apartment door. As he went through the door, I thought he would steal one more glance. He didn’t. I was beginning to understand that Garrett Hughes did not give too much of himself in one meeting. He only offered snippets of the man he was beneath all the domination and subterfuge. His kiss was the first real glimpse I had ever seen of his true self. From that moment on, I was determined to uncover more, because what I had experienced in that brief kiss was worth a lifetime of exploration.

  Day 7

  Waiting…that best described my day. I was waiting for my cell phone to ring, and to hear his seductive voice on the other end of the line. I tried to concentrate on my book, even banged out another two chapters. As the morning sun beamed in through my french windows, stretching across my hardwood floors, I was beginning to fret over not hearing from him.

  Had I forgotten the previous night and what he had done to me? Absolutely not! Was I still angry? Yes, but I was also fascinated by the way he was able to make me want him, even more. Garrett had called me his slave, and I was beginning to believe him. I had always reckoned a slave to be someone who was a servant, someone who did anything their master desired. I was learning that being a slave was not so much a physical state, but an emotional one. Being a slave to me, meant keeping Garrett happy. Despite all the things he had done to me, I still had a desire to please him.

  After filling my coffee mug for the fourth time, I returned to my book. At least my escapades with Garrett were making for some compelling reading. Even I was having a tough time believing that I had actually gone through some of the things I had written about.

  I was going over the latest scene, where Ralph had tied up Elise and was alternating between sexually exciting her and spanking her butt. They say you should write about what you know. I planned to put everything I experienced with Garrett into my story, and then some.

  Right when I was getting to the best part, my cell phone rang next to me on my desk. I jumped at the sound of my Jay Z ringtone and grabbed for my phone. My heart beat faster when I saw his name flashing back on the caller ID.

  “How are you feeling today?” The sarcasm in his voice was not wasted on me.

  I sat back in my desk chair. “My ass hurts.”

  “You were bad. I had to show you I mean business when it comes to heeding me.”

  The sound of his smooth voice in my ear was appeasing me. I needed to stay angry. “Don’t ever do that again, or I’ll file charges, buddy.”

  His roaring laughter filtered through my phone speaker. “The last of my subs who threatened that, I ended up getting a restraining order against. She became obsessed with me.”

  I sat up in my chair, pulling on my sweatshirt. “Which sub was this?”

  He sighed into the phone, and then I heard voices in the background. “One I haven’t told you about, yet.”

  “Are you at work?”

  “Just shutting the door to my office. I don’t want everyone knowing my personal business.”

  A thought struck me. “Do any of the people you work with know about your lifestyle?”

  “My boss does. Hayden Parr was in my fraternity at UT Arlington and shares my…interests.”

  “Interests?” I laughed, playing with the frayed bottom of my sweatshirt. “What’s he like? Your boss?”

  “Why do you ask?” His tone changed from playful to suspicious.

  “Is he like you? Does he have subs?”

  “No. Hayden dabbles in the art. He was never serious like me. He’s divorced, but recently has settled down with another woman.” Garrett paused, and I heard a phone ringing in the background. “They’re calling me for a meeting. I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “Of course,” I whispered, disappointed he had to go.

  “I wanted to tell you, I have news. Our presence has been requested at the club this Saturday night.”

  “Requested?” I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Mabel called me a few minutes ago. She’s having a special party for all the members and wants us both there.”

  “Why does she want us to go to a party?” I didn’t think my brief meeting had made that much of an impression.

  “It’s a club function and attendance is required. You’ll need a gown, Lexie. It’s a formal affair.”

  My heart sank. Owning a ball gown had never been on my list of things to purchase. He was lucky I had a cocktail dress. “I don’t own a gown, Garrett,” I confessed.

  The ringing of a phone started up again. “I’ve got to go. I’ll get you a gown and bring it over when I come by tomorrow night.”

  “You don’t know my—”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” And then he was gone.

  Clutching my iPhone, a whirlwind of apprehension seized me. Why did we have to attend a party at his club? Did I really want to go? After our last visit, reason told me I needed to stay away from the De Sade Club. Then that nagging voice of curiosity began to grow louder. What if something happened at this party that I could use in my book?

  Shaking my head, I knew I would go. That was the problem with being a writer. You may be able to write yourself into precarious situations with ease, but it was getting out of them that required the real talent. I just hoped I didn’t end up regretting my decision.

  Putting my cell phone down on my desk, I returned to my book. After I finished reviewing the last scene I had written, visions of women swirling in gowns and men donning tuxedos began to materialize in my mind.

  “Could be interesting,” I mused, as I glanced over my notes on a yellow legal pad to my right. “I wonder if Ralph and Elise should go to a fancy dress ball.”

  Day 8

  With Garrett’s impending visit that evening, I decided to get a little housework out of the way after a morning session of frenzied writing. It was also a way for me to work off some of my nervous energy. Thinking ahead to our evening together, my imagination got carried away with different possibilities, the greatest one being, would tonight be the night?

  Reflecting on what I knew of him, I suspected something might happen. We had been leading up to this point. Sleeping together seemed quite probable…or did it? What was the usual waiting time between Doms and subs? Was there a protocol one had to follow? I even Googled the idea, but nothing showed up. By the time I pulled out my old, trusty vacuum to snatch up the accumulating dust bunnies that I had been intentionally ignoring, I had worked myself into a state, debating about whether or not we would do the deed.

  As my vacuum cleaner sucked up the dirt from my hardwood floors, I mulled over my feelings for the man. Was this semi-twisted obsession I had for Garrett Hughes love? Or was this a carefully manipulated obsessive response of a sub to her Dom? Sure all love was some form of obsession. When did you know the obsession was going to turn into a lifelong passion? At some point, we all had to wake up to the reality of relationships. They were hard. Obsession was never going to be enough at the end of the day for two people to build a life together.

  The questions kept coming like water over Niagara Falls, and I had no answers. By the time I finished putting away the dishes in my sink, mopping my yellow linoleum kitchen floor, and changing the sheets on my bed—just in case—I had not come any closer to understanding the jumble of feelings that rattled about in my heart. Giving up and leaving my fate to the stars, I went to shower for my coming evening with Garrett.

  After deciding on jeans and a casual blue top, I was putting the last touches on my light application of makeup when my cell phone ringtone filled the air. Running from my bedroom, I reached for the phone on my desk. I never bothered to see who was calling, assuming it was Garrett checking in before he came over.

  “Did you pick up the food, yet? I’m starving,” I declared, anxious to hear his voice.

  “Alexandra?”

  I froze. The woman’s high voice cut right to my heart. I had not heard that voic
e in over a year, but I knew it too well to ever forget the sound.

  “Hello, Mom.” I let out a long, slow breath. Why was she calling tonight of all nights? It was typical of Lily Palmer, butting in right when I didn’t want her.

  “How are you, baby?” The sickly sweet quality of her voice was just as fake as it had always been.

  “Fine. Why are you calling?” I interrogated, hoping to cut this short.

  “As warm as ever, I see. We haven’t spoken in over a year and that’s all you have to ask? Not a ‘how are you, Mother’ or ‘how have you been’?”

  “Jesus, Lily, what do you want?”

  “Ah, there she is. I was wondering when the real you was going to appear. Congratulations, you held in all of that animosity about ten seconds longer than the last time we spoke.”

  My frustrated snort of indignation echoed about me. “You’ll never change, will you?”

  I heard my mother sighing loudly through the speaker, a sure sign the woman was growing short with me. I could recall so many fights with my mother beginning with just such a sigh.

  “I was calling to ask for your help with something. I can assume by the way you answered that you already have plans for the evening, so I won’t keep you.”

  I mouthed a scream and threw my fist into the air. She always did this; played the guilt card. “What is it, Mom?”

  “You’re busy and I don’t—”

  “Just tell me for Christ’s sake!”

  Silence greeted my abrupt plea. After a highly dramatic pause—classic Lily Palmer—she spoke up.

  “My garage door opener is stuck again. The last time that happened you came over and fixed it for me. Do you think you could—?”

  “I told you to get someone out to repair it last time.” I sighed, sounding just like her.

  “Well, it’s too late to call anyone now, and I need to get my car out of the garage to go somewhere.”