These were tough years. And now the two had traded places. He’d stood above her in the pecking order while her place was clearly on her knees. The fact that the change was so swift and so encompassing would stun her every time she thought of it in the ensuing days.
“Didn’t I tell you to get me a beer?” Luke’s sharp voice jerked her from her memories. She looked up to see him glaring at her from the chair. Her knees ached and her throat was parched.
“Yes, sir…” she spoke with haste, then hurriedly rose to her feet. “In the kitchen…the beer in the fridge?”
“No, in the dining room, in the cooler. I keep it there.”
She dashed that way, her feet remembering the familiar steps so that she didn’t have to think.
The dining room looked no different than it had six years before; hardly a thing had changed since she walked out, as if it had been frozen in time. The cooler was nearly the size of a normal refrigerator, built inside a custom cabinet next to the long sideboard, and seamlessly blending with the rest of the built-ins. Warren rarely used the cooler, for reasons Alexa never understood. However, it was stocked full of beer now, just as the boy said. The entire three shelves were filled with six-packs; and in the door were items typical for a twenty-one year old boy: take-out cartons, a shriveled apple, a half gallon of milk, likely sour. Alexa quickly surveyed the beer, all four brands, all but one from Microbreweries she’d never heard off, the fourth a Heineken Light. So which one? she wondered. Stymied by her quandary for several seconds, she finally jumped hearing Luke’s voice call out, “I need a goddam beer!” She grabbed the first bottle she could lay her hands on, a light ale from a local brewery, and quickly returned to where Luke lay back in his chair, snoring softly.
At her approach, he opened his eyes, grabbed the bottle from her hand and chugged the entire thing, handing the bottle back when he was done. “Bring me another, and get one for yourself.”
Alexa sat with her bare butt on the cool tile. By then, the red marks from the caning had pretty much vanished, causing Luke to notice how her skin was now as soft and pale as it had been when the day started.
“You don’t mark much, do you?”
“No.”
“I guess that’s a challenge for me, huh?” he said, although he didn’t seem particularly interested in her at the moment.
She remained where he ordered her: on the floor opposite his chair with her back resting uncomfortably against the hard edge of the coffee table. She was close enough to tease with the cane and far enough away to ignore. Leaving the cane on the table beside him, he went for the TV remote, aiming at the small set that sat on a table six feet behind her back. He flicked through the channels while he drank his second beer and she sipped hers; then finally he settled in to watch a poker match with such fixed attention that he seemed to have completely forgotten that she was in the room. Her mind checked out again and didn’t come back until she felt something poking at her privates. She’d sat on one hip with her legs together and her pussy tucked between them, while Luke was determined to pry her legs apart. She blushed when her eyes met his face, but immediately understood what he was after. Shifting positions on the tile, she sat squarely on her ass, bent her knees, drew her feet up to her ass, and opened wide, leaving everything private exposed, and everything Luke wanted ready for his next torment.
Her desire took another sudden orgasmic leap – anything he did to her now would cause a similarly erotic response.
“A stroll down memory lane for you, I imagine,” he said, as he gleefully poked at her cunt with the tip of his cane.
She winced and he backed off briefly, “Yeah, sure,” she hedged, “just not a stroll I planned to take.”
He smiled twistedly and began teasing her pussy with the cane again, jabbing her labia so that every poke caused her pussy to spasm. But while every poke and prod and jabbing dig sent her body to another level of arousal, each one heaped on more humiliation. How could she possibly come to this? What angry god wished her to suffer so?
“But how quickly you adapt. Alexa. Just don’t let the memories cloud your thoughts. I own you now, and whatever you had with my father is history. Savor the memories when I’m not around, but when I am, make sure that your attention is on me.” He practically snarled as he proudly announced, “I’m young. I’m selfish, and I’m reckless. And I’m going to do as I please with you. Whatever I do to you comes from me, not my fuckin’ old man. He might have been an interesting study, but now that you’re back where you belong, you better remember that it’s me in charge. I make up the rules and you obey them, simple as that.”
“And the rules are?” she probed.
He shrugged. “How the hell do I know? I make ‘em up as I go. Just do as I say, and what you think I want. You’re bound to piss me off, so don’t bother being perfect. I’d hate you even more for that and will likely beat you to a pulp.”
He poked her again and she flinched. This time, the tip of the cane jabbed her hard, then jabbed her hard again. She grunted, recoiling from the nasty stabs, then tried to shake him off, but one nasty jab just led to another and another. After a while her annoyance with his teasing play began to show in her grimacing expression. This only inspired him to wiggle the little tip of the cane as far and as deep as it would go inside her pussy.
“Damp little thing. Does it ever go dry?”
Rarely, she thought to herself. “Of course it does,” she replied.
“Right. With men who leave you cold.”
Though few men do.
Her eyes were glued to his, though she was so embarrassed that she couldn’t think of a thing to say. He watched her expression change from anguish to pain to dread and bliss and all the infinite variations between. This was just a simple tease at first, but the longer it went on the more their energies gathered and their lust took hold. Alexa could see the change in him clearly, as the focus on her became less intense and the fuming desire took command of the boy.
He suddenly jumped from his chair, “On your feet!” and he grabbed her arm before she could rise on her own. He marched her around to the back of his chair, shoved her over the top and moving close behind her raised white bottom, he shoved his fully engorged cock into the molten wetness of her pussy. She had no idea when he freed his cock, but by then it was hard and full, and his exhaustion had fled. A dozen times during the fucking, he pulled out all but the head of his cock then thrust back in almost viciously, venting his anger. The thrusting soon morphed into a brisk but easy rhythm, producing waves of orgasmic spasms in her that rapidly rose in strength. Suddenly she was cumming with her ass grinding back against his crotch – she wanted more and she wanted it harder. Powerful tremors of pleasure surged through her in a seemingly unending parade, until finally he came himself, having deposited a load of his cum in her hungry cunt. Their cries of exclamation were simultaneous, and when they were done and only the sounds of their panting and sighing remained, an awesome silence replaced the chaos of the previous few minutes.
Alexa’s head had been tucked into the cushion of the chair, nearly smothering her with the scent of leather. When she finally pulled up to take a breath, she found herself staring into Bo’s dark eyes across the room. He stood at the entrance, apparently waiting for them to finish, and not particularly bothered by the fact that he had to hang around until they were done.
“The boy doesn’t waste any time, does he?” he spoke directly to Alexa and she looked away.
Luke stood behind her, apparently unfazed by the man’s presence. He quickly pulled himself together – though maybe he was a little embarrassed – stuffing his flagging erection in his pants, buttoning up and moving around her with some authority.
“Might be good if you don’t call me boy,” he said to Bo, “at least not to my face.”
Bo nodded. “Point taken. Not intending to disturb you, but did you remember the meeting at two?”
Gazing at the antique wall clock, Luke saw that it was already five after two
.
“Secure her. I doubt she’s stupid enough to run, but I don’t want the bother if she is.”
“And how exactly do you want her secured?”
Flustered at first, he looked about the room in search of something. “How about the iron collar and one of those ring bolts in the corner?”
Bo nodded, while Luke took off for the winery office, and Alexa remained bent over the back of the chair with cum dripping down her inner thigh. Before she could ask for help, Bo swiped a handkerchief across her pussy and let it soak up the leaking juices. She flinched when he touched her flesh, then let the feeling pass. Her emotions were so bound up at that moment that she didn’t know what to feel or think.
One glance at his faded jeans was all the memory required to start an avalanche of emotion raging down to cloud her thoughts and dull her senses. Want, mixed with anger, fear, resentment and rage, fought for control. And then there was the intensity of her desire on top of all that. At last she took a breath and let him help her to her feet.
“Why don’t you just drive me out of here?” she asked in a sad monotone.
“I have my orders.”
“Ones you could easily defy.”
“And lose my job if I do?” he answered curtly. “Sorry, I’m not that noble. Luke’s determined. I could try talking him out of this, but it won’t do a damn bit of good. He’s a kid with a new toy. As long as you’re his current obsession, you’d better play his game and hope he’ll tire of it soon.” He ambled toward the cabinet of toys with Alexa following his moves with her eyes.
“Easy excuse for you, isn’t it?” she queried.
“It’s not about easy or hard. It’s about keeping my job.”
“Ah yes, your job. Just don’t think because you fucked me before that you’ll have the right to do it again,” she added spitefully.
“I have the right to do whatever I want with you,” he came right back. “Straight from the boy’s own lips.”
He smiled, not a particularly triumphant or arrogant one; he might even have been sympathetic, but Alexa wasn’t about to see any compassion in Bo’s eyes. “What? This funny for you?” she blurted resentfully. “You used to be…” she suddenly stopped, as she watched him return to her with a 2” iron collar in one hand, and heavy chain in the other. A beam of sunlight from a nearby window reflected off the shiny metal and for a moment blinded her sight; the clanging chain rattled her nerves. If she took the time to notice, she would have seen Bo’s wary look, and heard the concern in his voice, but all she could see were the chains of imprisonment about to tether her to this place again. When he was at her side, the rage in her suddenly broke free. She pushed him back and ran for the door – a stupidly foolish move, but she couldn’t stop herself. Bo was just steps behind her, hauling her naked body back to him. He held her close to his chest where she could feel the familiar warmth of this body and smell the scents of pungent grapes and earthy dust, the smells Bo carried on his body and the only perfume he wore. She wanted to drink it in and relax inside the comfort of his arms; but she refused to relax and refused to breathe deep. She wasn’t ready to begin again. Dammit, she wasn’t ready! She wanted her life back, not this!
“Why, why did this have to happen,” she murmured disconsolately.
Bo ran his strong hand against her back in a tender gesture of affection she didn’t want. “It didn’t,” he said.
But then the iron collar clamped around her throat, and when it did she let out a tiny gasp, and another anxious feeling rose up from the mess of emotion churning in her belly.
“I’m sure it doesn’t make much difference to you, but I am sorry about this,” Bo said.
“Yes, I’m sure you are,” she spit back.
“Fact is, the boy told me he just wanted to see you, for old time’s sake. I suspected there was more, but I didn’t know until I saw you now. Can’t say it wasn’t a pretty sight, and you, you didn’t seem to be suffering too much.”
“Oh, save your feelings, Bo. I really don’t care.” She backed away and his arms dropped to his side.
He nodded, perhaps chagrinned, though it was hard to tell. “No, I don’t suppose you would care.” He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her with him to the corner of the room by the French doors where he attached the chain from her collar to an eyebolt in the floor, leaving a length of chain about three feet long. She’d been tethered there in the past. “I’ll do what Luke wants to keep my job,” Bo said as he finished securing her, “but I won’t let him hurt you.”
“Right. As if you could follow him around and watch his every move.” She fumed in her huddled misery. Sitting on her bare bottom, she bent her knees, drew her legs up to her ass, and smoldered silently.
“Don’t worry, I’ll know,” he tried to assure her.
The truth was, she believed he would know, but it was small consolation for a day as horrific as this one had been. Still, he was sincere; Bo was always sincere, plainspoken and without malice, just as he was now. She shook her head trying to fend off her rising tears.
“You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” he added, as he gazed down at her troubled expression.
“You’re damn right, I’m worried…as I sit here naked and in chains.” They clanked and chattered as she moved, annoyingly loud, and yet the feel of her noisy restraints was enough to send a huge wave of erotic energy rising up through her body. She pushed the feeling back, afraid of what it said about her.
Bo shook his head. “Aw, the boy’s just hyped up on testosterone, letting his inheritance go to his head. But he’s harmless, always was. Fickle, yes; rough around the edges, yes; but you have that in your favor. A couple of weeks, maybe a lot sooner, he’ll get tired of the game and move on, and you’ll just be his old nanny once again, free to go about your business.”
“Right.” She was not so sure of his assessment. “It’s that ‘couple’ weeks I worry about. All that puffed up energy, few inhibitions, no restraints on money or his behavior. I am scared, Bo.” Her plea turned passionate.
He patted her head and stroked her cheek with the palm of his hand. “How you choose to play his game is up to you, Lexy. As long as you’re here and in shackles, I’d recommend diving in and enjoying the ride, just like you used to do. Could be fun—and don’t try to tell me that the floor-crawling slut of six years ago has disappeared.”
“For me she has,” Alexa snapped.
“Bullshit,” he snapped right back, and he softly tapped her face, mimicking a slap. “She’s just hiding out waiting for a new playground…or a resurrected old one.” He grinned a lazy lopsided grin as he stood over her.
“Why would you think any differently? You can take me anytime you want.”
“I suppose I can, but as far as fucking you, I won’t take you on my own this time. It’ll be your call to make if it ever happens, not mine.”
Like a stab to the heart, the words stung even though they were intended to be another small consolation prize. Though she was pissed that he’d brought her back to this, she knew they’d eventually make amends; she’d have to if Luke kept her at the winery more than a day or two.
Chapter Five
Rays of sunlight streaming through the far windows lit-up every dancing dust mite in the room until the air literally glittered with tiny winking sparks. Alexa watched the dance, mesmerized and numb. Two hours of hell had passed since Bo chained her in the corner, during which she heard every tick of the hallway clock, the chimes every 15 minutes, and when the clock struck four she greeted the tolling chimes like a funeral dirge. Waiting became excruciatingly painful when all she had was the hard floor and the plastered walls to comfort her listless bones. The facts of her situation depressed her, most notably the truth that despite her anger and agitation regarding her circumstances, she was incredibly aroused. She’d spent nearly six years living an ordinary life, having ordinary sex with a string of ordinary guys, none of whom had even half the appeal of either Warren Tatum, his son, or for that matter,
Bo. Just an hour in this house, with her latest incarnation colliding with the old Alexa, made disturbingly clear to her that she missed the savage sex, the domination, the mindless bliss of a sub-space high. Her sexual world had been reduced to casual blowjobs and mediocre fucks with little imagination. Stabs at introducing a slightly kinkier kind of sexual foreplay had been met with odd expressions, even confusion, so she backed off – way off, until even in her most intimate moments in bed with a man her demeanor remained sunny and virtuous and oddly chaste.
She hated Luke for using her, for the dashing arrogance that allowed him to assume his father’s dominant role. She hated his father whose dark seed had been planted deep within his son’s fragile psyche. Most of all, she hated herself for this foolish mistake, for believing that a return to the valley could hold anything but another prison sentence. And her own despair, she despised that, too, as she sat in the corner on the hard floor and stared through embittered eyes at the walls she’d washed, the floors she’d scrubbed, the dusty corners she’d once cleaned with a toothbrush – because this was what Warren Tatum could demand of her and know with some certainty that she would obey without hesitation.
While her mind was busy dragging itself through the details of her despair, the door suddenly banged open and abruptly swept aside her gloomy forecast. She looked up, watching Luke breeze in and move directly to his desk where he began rummaging through the drawers in search of something, which, by the look of his consternated expression, he seemed to have misplaced.
Given her displeasure about the whole mess her life had just become, she was amazed by the sudden rush of sexual heat that rose in her body as Luke entered the room. Determined to cast it off, she deliberately clanged the chains to get his attention.
He looked her way, startled, as if he’d forgotten she was there.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said absently, and he went back to his search. For an instant, he was a child again, confused, bordering on panic, obviously in distress as whatever he was looking for failed to materialize. He’d even forgotten the dominant bravado from earlier and let an apology slip. A slip his father would not have made.
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