He turned his back on her and strolled to the cabinet in the corner behind him, the one to the side of the French doors leading to the private garden. With the cabinet door open, she was unable to see inside; and though her curiosity was piqued, only when Luke closed the door and walked back with a small cane clutched in his fist did she realize that it had been restocked with at least some of the items she and Bo had packed away after Warren died. Tapping the cane against the side of his thigh he moved closer, looking more fearsome and in control than he had at anytime that day. The cane, as a talisman, gave him power he was too young to possess, though thankfully, his plans for her were much more benign than the beating she feared.
“You have no idea how much this pleases me. At one time I thought my father was a mad pervert. But after getting a taste of what it feels like to control a woman, I can see why he did it. It’s fuckin’ hot!” He was chuckling to himself, enjoying the power he wielded over her. “And so easy. Must be in your blood, too, you’re so easy.” He laughed at her expense. “At one time you answered to the great Warren Tatum, now you’ll answer to me!”
“Oh, Luke, please,” she tried one more time, but there was little fight in her.
“Don’t even try,” he chided. He was so puffed with self-importance that there’d be no getting to him now. “So, Lexy, how about I get a good look at my property?” He chuckled again in the same dark way. “He called you property in his journals. I think he liked to think of you that way. His property, like the fields of grapes and the harvest wine and this house, and every goddam thing in his universe was his property and belonged to him. Everything but the people he couldn’t control was his. But you? You were different, you were his, as much as that fancy Chagall you love so much. Property…” he smiled. He seemed to like the sound of it and what it meant. He strolled about her looking thoughtful and snide at the same time. “I’ve been pondering that fact for the ten days, trying understand what it really means. I’ve combed through his journals, and those images, and every speck of correspondence that took place between him and a guy named Strickland.” He noticed her flinch at the sound of the name. “I suppose you know the man?” She nodded. “Well, it’s all amazing stuff, but you know what I keep getting stuck on? The idea that even in these civil times, a man has a right to own a human female and call her property – I find that the most amazing thing.” He paused, letting her dwell on that thought. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to the moment when my property shows herself to me. So, Ms. Lexy…let’s get moving.”
Still kneeling, still with her hands clasped behind her back, she didn’t move, didn’t alter the pose.
Gazing at her annoyed and a little rattled, he finally snapped: “What? Didn’t I say the right words? Or are you living with a ghost – In daddy’s house, we play by daddy’s rules. Is that how you figure it?”
“I don’t figure it any way at all,” she replied.
“Yes, but you’re pissed and you’re hurt and you’re still pretty much in shock. I can live with that; it’s only natural considering what you lost today. However, this is my game now, we play by my rules, and when I want a good look at my property, you better start shedding clothes – without my having to order it up with some fancy words. Of course, if you don’t want to do it the easy way, I can always string you up as the old man would and cut them off myself. I just figured that since this is the first day of your reborn captivity, I’ll let you make the choice.”
Choice? There was no choice. “May I stand then?” she asked.
“If it makes it easier for you to strip away those awful clothes, by all means stand. You know what I want. Just do it.”
Knowing he’d won that round, he retreated to the leather reading chair beside the desk, and settled in to watch the show...short as it would be.
Alexa was anxious and breathing hard when she finally moved on the boy’s last instruction, though it was an order she knew well. As she might have done for Warren six years before, she hurriedly jumped to her feet and began to disrobe, slipping out of her flip-flops, unbuttoning her shorts and pushing them down her thighs. She kept her eyes downcast and averted his gaze. He was too much to look at. Too handsome, too sexy, too much like his father, and too much like the boy she’d helped raise, which made what was happening now all wrong. Although her wild alter-ego didn’t think it wrong. The wild girl liked that Luke was young and sexy, as horny and kinky as his father – and probably a lot more fun than Warren, too. She would have embraced this day as a moment of victory for her libido, and only regret it later when her unruly inner spirit inevitably clashed with the boy who held the whip – and the combination to the safe.
In the spirit of that sexier alter-ego, Alexa crossed her hands in front of her torso, grabbed the hem of the tank-top and drew it up over her head, discarding the flimsy thing on the floor. Bobbing free of the top’s built-in bra, her round breasts wobbled for a moment before Luke’s leering eyes until they settled in place. Her pink nipples, once smooth, quickly turned into hard knots, and he eagerly responded to the sight of her nearly naked body, though he didn’t say a word while he waited for her to finish. He sat in his chair and stared.
There was just the panties left, just the slip of pink cotton separating her one world from another, one life and the next. Discarding those took little fuss. They fell into a pile with the other castoff clothes once she stepped from the tiny thong and revealed for him the last of her intimate secrets. Her pubic mound was shaved of nearly all its hair; what was left was neatly trimmed.
If she expected compliments from Luke, she was living in a dream world. “What’s with the hairy cunt?” he snapped. “While you’re with me you’ll shave it off and keep it shaved smooth. Not a speck of hair, you hear?” His eyes drilled her until she nodded her consent.
How quickly she’d been reduced; in little more than an hour in the boy’s presence she was standing before him naked, ready to sink to her knees on his command. And now suddenly, the distasteful thought of what Luke suggested had taken a backseat to her aching desire. He was sexy; she was turned on. And despite the difference in their ages, despite the clout he wielded over her life, despite the fact that she’d been his nanny, for god’s sake, the only thought in her mind at that moment of her unveiling was getting fucked and screwed by the horny young buck who stared her down with a coldly lecherous stare.
Maybe, she rationalized, if he slaked his lust with her now it would diffuse the fire in his loins and he’d give up the silly nonsense about enforcing Warren’s contract. It was a good excuse, but as sensible as it must have seemed, she couldn’t ignore the fact that, above all else, she and the wild rebel within her wanted him as much as he seemed to want her. It had been so long since this naughty side of her had had any fun. It felt as if an old friend had come back to her.
With her pink thong atop the pile of clothes, she waited for his next demand, trembling, uncertain, and scared to death that she would spontaneously erupt with a shattering climax; she was just that hot.
“You do that like a pro,” Luke commented as he gazed at her lovely nakedness. The sight of her naked body couldn’t have been much of a surprise – after all, he’d often seen her in a bathing suit when she was nanny and he was in her charge. And yet, for the first time in his life he looked at her with unbridled lust. He’d had a crush on her in his teens when the first flush of puberty turns a young man insanely sexual, but she was just a fantasy then, and his crush brought only frustration to a boy who was ready to fuck. Alexa knew that at the time and wrote it off to boyhood infatuation. But he was beyond that now, young still, but mature enough to appreciate a womanly body and understand what a prize had fallen into his lap with no real effort on his own. His eyes seemed to stab her while they made a thorough study of her assets, missing nothing, then he motioned for her to turn around so he could see it all.
Alexa had just enough body fat to round out her curves in a pleasing way, so the line from her ample breasts fl
owed easily to her snug waistline and the natural swell of her hips below. Her thighs were lean, her rounded bottom high and firm, and her legs still coltishly youthful. Luke eyed her with fiendish desire, with hands twitching, as if any moment he’d rise up and start grabbing for body parts he’d been long denied.
The more he stared, the more she wanted him to take her. By then she was ready, her fear tucked away, her anger squelched, and the wild girl primed for one hellava good ride. Maybe the act would be tainted by the circumstances, but who the fuck cares about such silly details when fucking might take care of the whole damned mess? She was in her element now, perhaps more in control than she could ever be. She could see his crotch and the way his stiffening cock tented the denim of his jeans. One glance was enough. She would rebel against his command of her – the wild girl in her wouldn’t be happy if she didn’t. But then, the wild girl wouldn’t be happy if she didn’t fuck him at least once.
She could leave the rebellion for another day, although by the time they were done, rebellion might be a moot point. She’d wear him out; she’d change the game, she silently swore.
Chapter Four
Luke moved from his chair to her side, a little nervous in his approach. More from excitement than fear, she supposed, but perhaps from fear as well. Not every day did a young man have the opportunity for uncomplicated sex with a woman who was bound by fate to surrender. But though shaky from the adrenalin rush, he wasn’t in the least bit shy when he ran one hand down the crack of her ass, and another along her slit up front. He found her clit, and intrigued by the pulsing bud, he thrummed and squeezed it until she shrieked and her body visibly spasmed from the rush of energy. Suddenly he jabbed two fingers in her pussy, and she spasmed again, lifting on tiptoe, then settling back. Her body was hot, her nerves jittery and on edge, her heart racing; she worried that his next touch would send her teetering on the verge of a monumental explosion she’d be unable to hold back.
“You’re wet,” he said.
“No lie.” She panted, mouth open.
“And you’ve changed.”
“Changed? What do you mean I’ve changed?” She gazed about, annoyed and flustered.” I haven’t changed at all.” Why was he even saying that?
“Wrong there, nanny,” he snarled in her face, then he paced around her, his energy all fired up. “You were a girl when I knew you then, you were young and scared, like me. Scared of Tatum, scared of this house. We were alike that way…”
Alike? How could they be alike? “But we’re not alike now, not alike at all…” she answered.
“Humph. Don’t be so sure. We’re more alike than you think… Ms. Alexa Rebecca Dupree.” He left her staring at him as he retrieved the cane from his chair then walked back to her side. Slowly he circled her feverish body while lightly striking her flesh with the bamboo rod – on her breasts, her thighs, her belly and ass. The erratic staccato of strikes picked up in tempo and severity. Soon, the cane seemed to jump off her skin with every snap, leaving red welts rising on her flesh. Even slight taps stung the skin and caused her anxious body to flinch. Yet, the ensuing pain was still too reasoned, too measured, and unlikely to rip her from the sensuous subspace to which she’d been driven. The threat was always with her; the chance that any second he’d step back and lay into her with the full force of his youthful power held her enthralled.
But that was the game, was it not? The game of masters and slaves, men and subordinates, the favored and the damned. It was all about the teasing and mockery, the humiliation of the powerless in the presence of temporal authority. As the boy circled her with such deliberate intent, laying on strike after strike, she realized to her chagrin that he’d taken control of her just as his father had. The shoes of the sadist fit the boy as if they were made for him, not just borrowed from his old man. His control of her was astonishing and a terrible thing to accept, but deny it all she liked, push the desire from her body a thousand times, she could no more sweep away her yearning for moments like this than she could change the color of her eyes or the shade of her hair. What was she thinking to ever deny herself this kind of pleasure in that very sane outside world.
They were close, nearly skin to skin. The air between them prickly, agitated, raw like her emotions, like her tattered heart and weary brain. His dominant energy swallowed her up. Every time the bamboo snapped against her unprotected skin, her lust took a flying leap forward and her desire amplified in volume. So did his. For a time there was turmoil: fits and starts; lips that didn’t quite meet to kiss; hands anxious to touch, but afraid; eyes unwilling to connect. The rising roar of energy engulfed them in a potent fury of clashing needs. He clutched her hand and wouldn’t let go. His fingernails dented her flesh and still he wouldn’t release his grip. At last, he backed off and circled her one more time, rapping the cane against her in sharp biting snaps. Each one caused her to lurch with pain. When he moved in behind her, the cane came down on her bare shoulders with relentless speed for nearly twenty seconds before he finally paused.
“Sheeeeeeesh… ow, ouch, ohmigod!” With the cane striking at will, she moaned in fitful bursts as if she were suffering terribly, and yet her hungry body begged silently for him to go on.
“On your knees, bitch!” he roared, and without thinking, she instantly dropped to the floor, banging her knees against the hard tile. So delirious with arousal she barely felt the pain.
He was before her in seconds, his crotch at her face, his cock in her mouth, and so the blowjob began with a flurry of tongue and teeth and sucking lips passionately driving the boy to a frantic pitch. He held on to her head and drove his cock deep with every adamant thrust. She choked, but came back to him without hesitation, again and again, gulping breaths as all nine inches of the erection lunged to the back of her throat. She gagged once, and before she could back off to catch her breath, he shoved himself back down and stayed there, pumping madly while she choked and slurped his thrusting cock.
Driven now, she kept on with relentless tenacity, soon forgetting her own fierce arousal and focusing solely on his. She could feel her pussy pulsing and on the brink of climax a dozen times, but she refused to get off. Like her, Luke was at the edge and holding back, though with every shove of his cock down her burning throat, Alexa could feel the demand increase in him. Any second, she expected him to explode, yet for minutes more he held off, fucking her face until he could no longer stop the powerful blast.
He cried out like a man possessed, screaming, “Fuck me, you sorry slut,” as he grabbed her hair and forced his cock even deeper. “Gawd, yes, you bitch, fuck me! Fuck me, nanny, yes, yes, yesyesyes…” he cried so many times that the fucking noises and the heated screams became nothing but a senseless blur.
Then he suddenly came, spewing ropes of sticky semen down her throat. She gulped, frantically swallowing his cum, though she had difficulty keeping up. At last, he began to back away; while he continued to come in random bursts, leaving cum in her mouth and on her cheeks and dribbling off her lips. A few stray gobs dropped from her chin to her quivering breasts and stayed there, jiggling like jelly.
Exhausted, Luke pushed her back, stumbled to his chair and sank into the deep cushions, breathing hard.
“Go get me a beer, will you…” he growled then sighed big and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.
Alexa remained on her knees gasping for air as she began to calm. She heard him say something about a beer, but her mind quickly dismissed the thought. She simply couldn’t move, and she surely couldn’t think about finding the boy a beer. Letting the quiet in the room settle in, she gazed at the floor, letting her mind drift. She absently looked toward the windows then followed the annoying fly as it buzzed the scene. She averted his gaze at all costs; she needed time to recover from the savage blowjob without his eyes glaring into her. Her mouth hurt, her tongue felt scorched, and she could still taste the sweet, thick flavor of his cum, even though she wished she could wash that taste away.
The physical recove
ry was easy, but as her mind kicked in again and she recalled her depraved behavior of the last hour, the truth stunned her sober. She’d been his nanny, for god’s sake! She was thirty-three; he just twenty-one! This felt all wrong – wicked, immoral and wrong.
“You’re not his nanny anymore!” the wild-girl taunted from within. You want him, slut!
The wild girl was right. Luke was no longer a boy, and she was no longer the boy’s nanny, no longer, the pretty-faced girl in his father’s house who took him horseback riding on lazy summer afternoons, on picnics in the woods, and on one rainy day voiced with ease all nine characters from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs as she and the nine year old Luke giggled and laughed their way through the silly story.
Yes, they’d been a good deal alike. Luke’s first summer at the winery with his new nanny was filled with hours of silly games and youthful wonder, as the progeny of two rich and prominent men retreated into an untroubled, childhood bliss. No matter that beneath their charming slide into worlds of fantasy there lurked Alexa’s sexual servitude and Luke’s festering darkness. For one enchanting summer, the two shared what they were never allowed to enjoy before. They became their own grisly fairytale replete with daring exploits and frivolous pursuits by day. By night, tears of woe and sadness gathered in around them. They lived with their demons hovering at the gates and ready to grab them and bring them down.
That summer never repeated… the next was a little more sane, but still a joyous one. Each summer that passed at the winery, all five of them, brought a chance to let off steam. But as each summer came and went, the boy became more troubled and Alexa less free, as the bonds that held her captive to the father tightened.
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