***
And WIP Wednesday! Yay!
I'm going to move on from the Watcher this week and preview something that's actually a true work-in-progress. 'Hasn't seen the editor' work in progress. No title. No cover. No blurb.
Here we go.
“You are up.” He was in the bedroom when I returned, still
naked, from the bathroom. He was dressed casually – navy blue linen pants, a
white cotton shirt and sneakers on his feet.
I nodded. Everything was going to begin today, he’d said. A
strange, heady sense of anticipation filled my blood.
He looked slightly amused. “Use your words, Jenny.”
“I’m up,” I obediently parroted.
“And are you ready?” Again, that amusement.
“For what, Alexander?” I asked him boldly and he shook his
head at me.
“For what, Sir.” His hand gestured, and I knelt on the plush
carpeted floor immediately. My heart pounded and moisture pooled between my
legs. Everything wasn’t just going to begin today. It was going to begin now.
“Part your legs wider,” he ordered, and I nudged my knees
apart. My head was lowered automatically. “Still wider. Show me that cunt of
yours.”
I blushed, heat filling my entire body but I did as he
asked.
“Link your hands behind your back. Grasp a hold of your elbows.”
I obeyed, and my shoulders strained.
It wasn’t the lewdest position he could have put me in,
though I was still flushed with shame and burgeoning desire. But as I knelt
there, I felt the breeze around my opened pussy. The effect of my hands,
clasped behind my back, was to push my breasts out as twin offerings to him.
He didn’t lean in. He didn’t come closer and he didn’t touch
me. He just watched me. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. “You look
afraid,” he remarked after many moments of silence.
How could I respond to that? He was very good at picking up
what I wished to keep concealed. I was a little afraid. Two years in Dylan’s
possession had thought me to be terrified of uncontrolled desire. The one night
I’d spent with Alexander two years ago in Paris had not been enough to
eradicate all my fear.
“Tell me, Jenny,” he asked, “did you enjoy your time with
your previous master?”
Ah, fuck. His question was direct and far too perceptive and
I couldn’t lie. He would be able to tell. I tried for a half-truth. “Not
always, Sir.”
“Why?”
There was panicked screaming in my mind. Everything balanced
on my answer. Dylan. My revenge. The fact that Alexander would kill me if he
knew who I was. I needed to navigate carefully through this inquisition so that
my fear would be explained but my cover story would remain intact.
“My Master punished me harshly,” I said hesitantly. “I’m
afraid to do something to displease you.”
He looked unhappy. “You are my submissive, Jenny,” he said.
He ran his fingers through his hair in a helpless gesture. “And I don’t think
you have the slightest idea what that entails.” He fixed me with a piercing
look. “Did you get evaluated by Lorraine’s resident Doms, or did you lie your
way past that as well?”
I shivered. I had to act, and act well so that he wouldn’t
be suspicious of everything I did. He had to trust me enough to take me to
Hanoi. “They evaluated me,” I said tonelessly. My mind reeled. What should I do
next? This wasn’t what I was expecting at all – Alexander’s focused attention
on me.
“Did you enjoy that?” he probed.
“Yes Sir.” No lie there. I had been nervous about their
examination, but they had brought me unexpected pleasure.
“Tell me why.”
“Umm…” I struggled with this. “I could trust them to stop,
if I needed them to. I trusted them to respect my safe words.”
“And you couldn’t with your previous Master.” His words
weren’t a question.
I shook my head. “Not always.” Never. Slaves didn’t have safe words.
He looked… troubled. “You are a frightened little mouse,
Jenny, and I don’t get aroused by your terror.”
“I wasn’t terrified yesterday,” I retorted. “And I’m not
terrified now.”
“Yet, if I unbuckle my belt,” he said, his hands at his
waistband, “I dare say your eyes will be filled instantly with panic.”
Only from the
remembered memory of what Dylan did to me. Only because I can’t forget.
I kept silent. I stayed on my knees on the carpet, my legs
spread apart, the breeze caressing my cunt. My hands locked behind my back.
“One million dollars,” he finally said flatly. “For your
sister. Take the money and walk away.”
My eyes flew to his face, shocked. Again, my mind struggled
to keep pace with what was going on and I struggled to improvise. I couldn’t
walk away. “Why?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“I don’t want anyone in my bed who doesn’t want to be here.”
His words were a dismissal.
I laughed inwardly. If only he knew. Even now, when my plans
lay in potential shambles, my body craved him. I unlocked my arms from behind
my back, stung beyond belief at his assertion that I didn’t want him. My eyes
stayed glued to his, even as my fingers dipped in and out of my pussy. I held
my fingers out towards him. “I want to be here.” The evidence of my desire was
extended towards him.
His eyes betrayed his lust. He took a step closer towards
me. “If you stay,” he growled, “you will learn to follow my rules.”
“Yes Sir.”
“The first rule – you must be honest about your desires.
Your wants and your needs. What arouses you, and what causes you fear.”
“Yes Sir.” I gulped. Dylan hadn’t ever been interested in my
desire, just my compliance. This – what Alexander wanted from me? He wanted me
naked and revealed to him and that terrified me. Already, I felt too much for
him. The way he’d held me two years ago in Paris had etched itself into my
memory. Last night’s camaraderie and kindness had reawakened every emotion I’d
managed to supress when I realized who he was.
But I had no ability to turn away from the path I was on. My
revenge depended on it, but I sensed that more than my revenge was at stake
here. Something about this man filled something deep in my soul, and I couldn’t
walk away.
***
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