Though she saw a slight waver in his cold expression—an inkling of the Luke she knew—that waver lasted only a second and his visage hardened again. “I’m not a boy anymore. I’m the master in this house and this is what pleases me. Until I decide otherwise, this is where you’ll sleep. You have as much of a bed as a slave deserves and a bucket to piss in sitting in the corner.” He stood back, looking satisfied with what he said. “Now take off the clothes.”
“But—”
“Take off the fuckin’ clothes,” he roared back. He impulsively snatched a whip hanging against the doorpost and snapped it in her direction. The cracker grazed her upper thigh causing a nasty sting, and she jerked back, hurriedly removing Luke’s dingy wet t-shirt and her damp shorts.
“Now masturbate!” he shot off next, and he continued to tease her with the whip, snapping erratically against her thighs, hips and with a few cuts targeting her breasts.
She was tired and cold and panicked, but the order, as humiliating as the act might be, was almost heaven sent. Her bottled-up emotions came pouring forth in tears that ran down her cheeks in a steady stream. She played with her cunt because he ordered her to; and because above all, above her anger, despair and fear, she was horny. Wildly horny. Her body raged with unspent lust; and as her fingers began toying with the tingling folds of her throbbing pussy, emotion and desire detonated into a powerful spasm. “Oh, dear god, yes!” she seethed to herself as her body clenched again and again. She could suppress nothing now. At first, she was vaguely aware of Luke’s staring eyes, but as the surging spasms took hold of her body and shook her hard, even he was gone from her thoughts. Wave upon wave of orgasm ravaged her sex, and she fell back against the floor with fingers flying over her cunt and inside the slippery channel. She writhed side to side against the hardwood like a woman possessed. She was mad with need. Under her breath, she swore, “Fuck, fuck, yes, fuck, damn…” in a steady string of nonsensical expletives. In time, she could feel the torrent of desire begin to die down and her mind returned to the present moment, to her shameful display and the boy standing in the doorway witnessing the whole goddam show. He took in every twisted move and jolting climax, and when she finally caught his glance again, he took a step back and slowly closed the door without comment.
She was swallowed up in darkness, by black so absolute that she feared she’d never see light again. Cold crept in from beneath the door and chilled her to her bones.
“Luke please!” was on her lips, but if he heard the anxious plea it didn’t even make a dent. She settled back in silence, listening to the solemn sound of his boots striding down the hall. Then she heard the boots stop, a door open and close; after that, she heard nothing.
In just a few short hours she’d been ripped from the carefully constructed world she’d created on the coast of California. All that she had expected of her remade life had vanished as if it had only been a dream. Once again she’d been tossed by the fickle winds of fate. How could she possibly survive this craziness again – especially knowing that the boy, her once sweet Luke, the one really good thing to come of her life with Warren Tatum, was now little more than a madman dressed in respectable clothes, and carrying a huge checkbook. She wondered what part she might have played in his undoing.
Chapter Six
Alexa took over the household chores much as she had when she was under Warren’s rule. Because Luke was long on desire and whim, and short on specific details of how she’d spend her days, Alexa filled in the gaps by falling back on the old routines Warren had established over their five years together. Most of the time, Luke lived oblivious to routine and form. The fact that Alexa could work without direction for the most part suited him. He had no interest in the tedious task of micromanaging another human being.
She kept the house spotless, cooked whatever Luke wanted on demand. She made shopping lists, called in the winery carpenter or electrician if something in the house broke down, and made recommendations to Luke on house repairs, the gardens and even matters at the stable, slowly assuming the roles she had filled when she served here before. In many ways her life seemed little more than a retreat into the past – except for the role Luke played in the arrangement, which in no way resembled his previous role.
He often watched her as she worked – scrubbing floors, cleaning toilets and chopping vegetables for a fish stew. When the sight of her made him horny, he’d impulsively grab his crotch in lust; and when the urge got strong, he’d take her by the arm, haul her to the nearest bed, chair or table, shove her forward, and drawing in close to her rear, he’d fuck her savagely until his seed was spent. If she orgasmed that was fine, he didn’t particularly care. If she resisted even slightly, he liberally used his belt – or whatever implement he could lay his hands on – and punished her ass with a rash of smacks that left her behind fiery red and her crotch horny and craving orgasm. Seeing the savage expression on Luke’s lips after one of these ordeals confirmed that he enjoyed making her hurt. When that hurt turned sexual and her juices began to flow, she squirmed fitfully, moaning softly under her breath and begging for more in her subspace trance. Her eager response to punishment was all the justification Luke needed to be cruel to her, again and again and again.
One afternoon, he stopped her in the middle of crawling the master bath floor on hands and knees, scrubbing the tile surface inch by inch with nothing but a toothbrush. He’d made a decree the week before, demanding that she use a toothbrush whenever she cleaned his bathroom. If she disobeyed, if even once he caught her using a standard scrub brush instead of the toothbrush on his floor he’d make her sleep in the oppressive second floor storeroom for the next three weeks and scrub every floor in the house in the same menial way until that three weeks passed. He made such rash pronouncements with little thought, which made Alexa doubt that he’d ever follow through, but they were enough to keep her in her place and dutifully obeying his silly edicts. She had no desire to bring more misery to her life.
“Damn, I love seeing you like that!” Luke exclaimed from the bathroom door, a gentle snicker on his face.
The moment was not a good one for her; this had not been her finest hour of submission, and he interrupted her at the wrong time. While spending a tedious hour and half cleaning the floor as Luke demanded, her mind had brooded about her imprisonment, specifically on the erratic behavior of her new ‘master’. In a strange way, she’d come to respect Warren and his rule over her – he provided her a better life than any she’d have in an English prison. But after six years of freedom, living on her own as an adult, she wasn’t interested in returning to any sort of prison, certainly not one with Luke as her jailer. He was still a boy, a child with a lot to learn. But he did hold the key to her life and her future. For that she feared him, as she would hardly call it respect. He was smoking hot, his moves smooth, his body hard, and his eyes smoldered with the lust of youth. Eleven years earlier she would have welcomed the attention of a man like this, even under these strained circumstances. But Luke was also brash, thankless, dictatorial and erratic, which was plenty to despise him for and plenty to seethe about when he was not around.
To his Damn, I love seeing you like that, Alexa unwittingly looked up, glared into his eyes, and without bothering to don a stoically passive attitude as she normally did under the circumstances, she stupidly snapped off, “I’ve become well aware of that,” with a heaping dose of scorn.
“Thinking bitchy thoughts today, huh?” he chortled above her.
She bit her lip to keep from spitting out something she’d regret even more than her last snappish retort, then she looked down, breathing evenly to temper her mounting rage.
“Look at me,” Luke ordered.
She didn’t dare – not with her eyes spitting fire.
“I said, look at me!” This time he roared.
With her next breath she tried to stuff her anger once again, but her efforts were not enough.
If he hadn’t already felt her ire, he saw it in her eyes when she looked u
p next.
“Oh, my slavey nanny is seething with rage,” he taunted, as he strolled before her. He stopped in front of her and squatted down to meet her eye to eye with his steely eyes fixed on hers. “I’ve made your life hell again, which really pisses you off.” He smiled big. “I like that. I like that you’re defiant; it inspires me, Alexa. Gives me an excuse to punish you.”
Turning back to the toothbrush and the tile floor she continued her work, saying nothing.
“Ignore me now?” he jibed.
He was close, too close. She could feel the atoms in his body attacking her. She didn’t want to ignore him, and she didn’t want to make this worse, but everything that popped into her mind to say was wrong, all wrong. Keeping quiet just fueled his passions more. Finally, he popped back to his feet, retreated into the bedroom, and returned a minute later with a thin, whippy cane in hand. She clenched in anticipation, while her aroused pussy spasmed with desire, then he came at her ass with a long string of hellacious cuts that bit right through her shorts and left a sting that warmed her entire rear.
“Take them off,” he suddenly spit out.
She looked up baffled, then pulled upright so her ass was resting back against her legs and she could see him better.
“The shorts! Don’t be so damned dense.”
By then the war was on. Not the war between she and Luke; there was only one winner in that game. The other war, the inner war between her lust for the boy and desire to be free of him raged on, day to day, hour by hour. She could be as erratic in her desire as he was in his rule over her; one minute disgusted, the next frightened, and then so turned on she simply didn’t care what she did as long as the sex took her to a place of grace where mercy rained down in a shower of sexual pleasure. She craved that pleasure like an addict craves his drug.
Staring into his smoking eyes, she undid the button on her shorts and pushed them down, rising as she did. Bending forward again, she lowered the shorts over her bottom so that when she was on her hands and knees, her bare ass hung out like a bull’s-eye. She tried kicking the shorts away with her feet, but she stopped that as soon as Luke began hitting the bare, beautiful target with the stinging heat of the flexible cane. A rash of hot welts stripped the pretty ass; each one burned, but by then the pain fed the endorphin rush and she began to come, even before he laid a hand on her sex.
“You beautiful bitch,” the boy seethed, and he snatched her up by the arm and pushed her into the bedroom toward the bed. “Get on and wiggle that ass for me!”
She did. Anxious. Sweating. Hungry for sex. Her ass took charge as if it had a mind of its own, while Luke viewed the bobbing red-stripped cheeks with greedy eyes. His hands itched, craving the feel of her hot, soft flesh, and the warm tight valley between her legs. He quickly discarded his jeans, and climbing on the bed behind Alexa’s red ass, he lunged forward, impaling her with the first swift plunge. A dozen hard and merciless thrusts inside the molten hole were all it took to bring the boy to climax. He fucked her, she fucked him back – he with his hands clutching her ass cheeks; she with her fists tightly clenching the blue damask bedcover. Her cries were wild and incoherent to match the guttural tenor of his own. Soon, the air overflowed with the heady stench of sex. When the commotion of fucking bodies finally died down, the exhausted pair collapsed against the mattress. She fell to her side, while he crumbled in a heap beside her.
For a moment, she looked into his eyes seeing something other than the puffed-up self important youth. Behind the pretense was his own hurt, a pain she once believed she understood, though now that would be sheer speculation. She didn’t think she knew the boy at all. Maybe she should stop thinking of him as ‘boy’ and consider that beyond the petty and juvenile behavior a man had begun to emerge from the chrysalis of his damaged childhood.
Luke took her daily in a similar fashion. The locations changed, anywhere from the stables to the winery to any room in the house. One night, just weeks after her return, he hauled her blindfolded into the winery and fucked her over a barrel amongst the huge vats of wine. Someone was looking on – she could tell by the scent of smoke and the sound of creaking boots. Her first thought was Bo, but he’d given up cigarettes seven years before and hadn’t touched one since. So the purpose of the strange occasion…? Showing off? A demonstration? Another example of arrogant self-gratification? She was never told who was looking on and she never asked, but Alexa would remember that night as if the image had been permanently burned into her brain. The incident might have been just an isolated event, never to happen again. She could tell herself that to assuage an already troubled spirit, but she knew better and she knew that it would not be the last time that Luke would share his dark lust with friends watching eagerly from the sidelines. She could imagine that the isolation of the winery, along with the lack of peer companionship, was in part responsible for Luke’s restlessness, his crazed rants, and the erratic way he dealt with her as a slave.
At night, not every night but most, Luke came to her closet while she was sleeping, and pulled her from a sound sleep to use her cunt. Slam. Bam Thank-you ma’am – though he never whispered a word of thanks. Sometimes he hopped on the front of the narrow pallet bed and straddled her head, easing his stiff member into her open mouth. He enjoyed making her gag by going so deep that she would cough him out. This never deterred him; he only came back again and again, until he was ready for the brisk finale when going deep didn’t matter, but the friction of her sucking mouth did. The only diversion from his ritual blowjob was where he shot his load. Often when he was especially tired, it sufficed to drive it right down her throat. More often, he had enough energy to pull back and shoot his cum on her face or tits and smear it over her body like cream. He made her gather it on her fingers and lick it off; on other occasions, he forced her to spread it over her torso with her palms – leaving both hands and torso unwashed until morning. His scent would cling to her and she would lie awake for hours after with the smell of him on her body. She’d become his property. But that made sense; she was his slave.
Two months in, a subtle shift began to take place in their sexual relationship. At least one night a week, Luke either ordered her to his bedroom at the end of the day, or pulled her from the closet after she’d already gone to bed and took her to his room. He mentioned one night that he needed more room to move while he was fucking; and for nearly three continuous hours he fucked her without stopping. The first come was routine, over and done within no more than six minutes flat – just enough to slake Luke’s horny lust so he could enjoy the rest of the night at a more leisurely pace. Take the edge off would have been his comment – though he rarely commented about fucking her. He came back within the next half hour, cock hard and ready again. He raped her mouth this time, came all over her torso then climbed on her charged up body, enclosing it in a fierce body-to-body embrace. Maybe it was the sweat and cum that held them together like glue; perhaps a well of old emotion that needed to be tapped at that moment. Some questions just don’t get answered in the tricky relationships between male and female, master and slave; and for this one Alexa would never quite grasp the truth.
What she did understand was how she held him as tightly as he held her, and when he began to kiss her – something he’d actively avoided before – she kissed him back, opening her mouth wide to allow his tongue inside. She craved that kiss, and every kiss thereafter. Tongues collided. Teeth nibbled lips. Then their mouths locked together again, and they rolled and groveled the entire length and width of the big master bed, something they’d never be able to do on the narrow cot in her storeroom bed.
They rolled and smooched, they even laughed when their bodies became tangled inside the sheets. And when the slow rolling come, the last of the night, finally gripped their bodies, they tensed together and came in a languid rhythm that lingered on through one spasm to the next, until there were no more, and exhausted they lay in each other’s arms like lovers.
Alexa was almost asleep when Luke
finally pulled away and lay back staring toward the ceiling. She could see him in the moonlight – that hour of the night the full moon shone like daylight through the open balcony doors, illuminating his scant chest hair. He breathed softly in and out and she sensed he had something to say, although she was very tired and only wished he’d fall asleep and let her rest.
“Sometimes I’m almost ashamed of the way I treat you,” he finally breached the awkward quiet. “But you, Alexa, you fire me up. You make me want to do these things. You make me love it, and then I’m powerless to stop. It’s going to get better for you, I know it will…” He stopped as if he had much more to say, but left whatever came next for her to think about when she had nothing else to do. The confession over, he turned on his side so he could see her, so he could run a hand over her bare breasts and lightly squeeze a nipple. She figured that within minutes he’d be asleep, and she’d be sleeping, too – Oh, and in a real bed for the first time in months!
However, true to his erratic form, Luke was suddenly wide awake and pulling her out of the bed. “We stink,” he announced, as if she really cared. She’d become used to his scent.
Regardless of her reluctance, he dragged her sleep-filled body into the master bath, to the shower, where he turned on all three walls of jets and the overhead shower. For the next half hour, they soaped each other’s bodies, kissed body parts and licked the clear rinse water from their dripping flesh. He was happy and so was she, and by the time they tumbled back to bed, it had become clear that something had shifted in their odd relationship. It was four am when the sky was at its darkness hour, and a new day was just beginning to peek out on the far horizon. The uneasy lovers fell quickly to sleep; the last thought in her was how the rest of her life would change because of this night.
When the pair finally woke it was ten am and the bedroom was flooded with sunshine, while the breeze of the morning had already died down. Alexa awakened first, but instead of getting up right away, she lay in bed waiting for Luke. When he finally jumped from bed, she could feel his erratic spirit rise with him. The affection of the night was gone, and it felt as if the previous night had never taken place.
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