Freed (13 page)

Jean-Luc was right. Angry was not a useful emotion for me to feel right now. I needed to be as cold as ice for what needed to be done next.

“Now,” I chided. “I’ve got to stay and clean this up,” I gestured to my sweet Jenny, “when what I really wanted to do was take you out to dinner.”

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes. “You are too soft on your toys, Alexander. Just untie the cunt and let’s go out?” She pouted. “There’s no fight in her.
Boring.
”

Ellie wanted Dylan. She wanted revenge. Of course she wouldn’t have fought back. She couldn’t risk exposing her cover story.

My heart ached in my chest for the unnecessariness of it all.
Why didn’t you just be honest with me, bright star?
I wanted to cry out.
We were on the same side. We could have made it work together.

But she wasn’t the only one who had hugged her secrets close to her chest. I still hadn’t told her mine. I was too much of a coward.

“Tell you what,” I told Sylvia. “Why don’t you go get changed into something…
sexier
… and I’ll meet you at your apartment in a few minutes? I’ll bring the champagne.” I smiled at her, the fond smile of someone so much in love that he could neglect to notice the weeping girl next to him. “You’ve been away for too long. I’ve missed you.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I like the sound of that,” she cooed. “Okay.” She winked at me. “I’ll be in my bathtub,” she said. “Perhaps you can soap my back.”

“Give me fifteen minutes,” I responded. Fifteen minutes and Jean-Luc would have her.

I ushered her out of the front door, needing to make sure she had left my house. Never again would she set foot inside my home. When the door shut, I sent Jean-Luc a text. “Make it happen.”

Then, my heart in my mouth, I went to tend to Ellie.

***

I deflated the gag and removed it, then freed her of her restraints. I gathered her in my arms and took her to my bedroom, laying her stomach down on the bed. She lay there, quiet and passive, staring straight ahead, not saying a single word.

“Jenny,” I started before I fell silent. How could I apologize for this? What right did I have to ask for forgiveness?
I had promised to protect her and I had failed.

I used a damp cloth to soothe her poor, bruised bottom. The skin had split open in a few places and I dabbed some antiseptic on the cuts. She hissed in agony and I held her hand. “I’ll be done in a little bit,
cherie,”
I whispered. I found a couple of pills for the pain and offered them to her. “Painkillers,” I said.

She nodded. “I trust you,” she said quietly as she swallowed the drugs.

There was a lump in my throat and I was unable to respond to her words.
Words that I did not deserve.

“Where is Sylvia?” she continued.

“Gone,” I replied. “She will never bother you again.” I wanted to promise her this, but the words wouldn’t come out past the lump in my throat.

“Don’t you have to go now?” Her voice was the smallest whisper and my heart hurt to hear the broken note in her voice. “To see her?”

“She doesn’t matter. She never has. Right now, the only thing that matters is you and I’m not going anywhere.”

She stayed silent for a very long time. “I didn’t want to cry,” she said finally. “I wanted to be brave.”

“You were brave,” I said quietly. My fingers laced in hers. “You are so brave. I am so proud of you.” She thought I was muttering words of reassurance. I wasn’t. I was in awe at how courageous she was. I knew what Dylan did to women, how effectively he broke them. I knew how hard it was to walk back towards recovery and she had done all of that and more.

“Alexander,” she muttered. “Will you lie down next to me and hold me?”

My bright star.
She broke my heart with her softly-voiced request. I couldn’t reply; I didn’t trust my voice to hold steady. Instead, I lowered myself next to her, our sides touching, my arm around her waist, holding her close and claiming her as mine.
Even though I had no right to do so and even though I knew it was all going to fall apart in a few days.

I stayed still and waited for her to fall asleep. Only when I knew she was deep in slumber did I push myself off my bed.

I needed to deal with Sylvia.

Alexander:

Jean-Luc was waiting for me as I made my way outside. He shot me an urgent look. He could see the barely concealed anger in my stance. I rarely lost my cool. I always stuck to the plan, but right now, I was fighting the urge to snap Sylvia Anliker’s neck with my bare hands.

“Remember,” he said harshly. “This cannot be traced back to you. If Dylan finds out, he will disappear.”

My nails gouged into my palms, I was clenching my fists that hard. I nodded curtly. “She should consider herself lucky,” I said tonelessly. That was a lie. The way Sylvia was going to die was not going to be pretty at all.

***

She jumped to her feet as the door opened. She had some minor bruising on her face and her hair was a tangled mess. She had fought the men who had brought her here.

She was in a warehouse in one of the more unsavoury parts of Paris. She didn’t know that – the men had tossed a black hood over her face as they’d taken her. The room she found herself in when the hood had come off was sparse. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling. There was a wooden table in the centre and a straight-backed chair. In the corner, a bucket served as a place to pee.

She’d been in that room for three hours. Three hours while I’d held Jenny in my arms and attempted to comfort her. Three hours while I tended to the welts and wounds the cane had left on my
bright star.

Not Jenny. Her name was Ellie Samuelson and she’d been caned once before by Dylan while Sylvia had watched. The two of them had filmed that scene.  

Sylvia was always going to die. Yet, had she not touched Jenny, it would have been so much easier for her. Now? There was no mercy left in me.

“Alexander,” she exclaimed. For an instant, I saw relief on her face, a hope that I’d come to rescue her.

No one was going to rescue Sylvia. She was going to die in this room.

Then awareness descended over her face. “You. How?”

I looked at her with undisguised loathing. “Did you not think that your sins would catch up with you, Sylvia?” I asked her. “Did you think you could just get away with it all?”

She opened her mouth to answer. “Is it about the girl?” she asked. “I barely laid three stripes across her ass. Have you suddenly become reluctant to share?” Her lips curled into a sneer. “Why, Alexander, are you in love? You do like your strays, don’t you? She spins a sob story about her sister and you fall for her? Saving people is like fucking catnip to you, isn’t it?”

“Well,” I drawled. “Someone has to clean up the messes that people like you make, Sylvia.” My face hardened. “I wouldn’t talk about Jenny if I were you.”

Sylvia had never seen this side of me. I’d played the indulgent billionaire and the adoring boyfriend. I’d bought her expensive jewelry and took her to trendy restaurants to eat.
She had no idea what I was capable of
.

“This is it, Sylvia. This is the end of the road.” I opened the laptop screen. “I thought I’d share something with you first.” I smiled. “You will humour me, of course.”

She looked around, assessing her options, but she didn’t have any. She wasn’t a trained fighter. The door was closed and there were guards posted outside. I had a gun but she wasn’t going to be fast enough or strong enough to overpower me and get to it. Little did she know I was going to give her the weapon in a few minutes.

“What is this?” Her voice was infused with hate as she stared at the computer.  

“This,” my voice was rich with satisfaction, “is your empire crumbling down on you.” I punched in a few letters. “Swiss bank accounts? You should check the balances.”

She looked and her face went pale. “There are others,” she finally spat defiantly.

“Indeed.” I hit a few more keys and turned the screen back to her. “Do you mean these?” I sneered at her. “Oh, Sylvia. My dear. Did you really think it was your charm that kept me at your side?”

She inhaled sharply as she saw the screen with its damning numbers. “That’s right,
darling,”
I taunted. “Every single Swiss bank account. Every single Cayman Island shelter. Those overflow accounts in Singapore. If I haven’t managed to strip it to zero, I’ve arranged for your assets to be frozen.” I steepled my fingers. “I did find it rather satisfying work.”

“Why? Is it because of the girl?”

My face darkened. I contemplated telling her who Ellie really was, but after years of lying, revealing the truth, especially to an enemy, did not come easy. “I did tell you not to mention Jenny again, didn’t I?” There was a bottle of water on the table. I opened it and drank nearly half the contents. “You will find that disobedience comes with
consequences
.” I exhaled, fighting for calm. I needed to be cold here, not hot with anger. “She is far more important than you’d ever realize, but you brought your own troubles on yourself. Did you really think you could get away with everything?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she tried.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh come on, Sylvia. If I could find each and every bank account, did you really think you could hide how the money was made?” My voice grew icy. “Did you think it would all remain a secret? The young boys you took from Tunisia to the Emirates? The girls you took from the war zones in the Central African Republic and sent to Spain? Did you think you could get away with it? Did you think your money would render you immune?
Did you think people would cower in fear and no one would act?
”

“Why?” she whispered. “Do you think you aren’t tainted by this? You are Dylan’s…”

“Stop.” The tone in my voice left no doubt that I meant business. “I have news for you, Sylvia. I’m richer than you. I’m better connected than you and above all,” I met her eyes, “I am far,
far
more ruthless than you.”

I took the gun out from the holster in my jacket and set it on the table. Her eyes dilated in terror when she saw the weapon, but her expression became confused when I pushed the gun towards her. I eyed her coldly and once again took a deep breath. “You once tied up a young, uncooperative girl in a square in Africa, didn’t you, Sylvia?”

Her entire body stiffened. She had clearly hoped that no one would ever find out about this particular occurrence, but this wasn’t a story that could ever be kept quiet. “You posted your guards with guns on the perimeter. You warned that anyone who came near this girl with water or food would be shot, didn’t you Sylvia? You were teaching them all an object lesson, I believe?”

That fourteen-year old had died of thirst in the heat. I took another deliberate sip of water. There was only a sip or two left in the bottle. “Thankfully,” I said, “I am more merciful than you ever were.” I fished a bullet out of my pocket and held it between my fingers. “There’s one bullet. You can take your chances. Can you load it into the magazine and pull the trigger before I walk out of the room? Think carefully. Because this bullet is a gift.”

“Gifts can be squandered, or gifts can be used. Your choice.” I gestured to the water. “The door won’t open. This is your water. There’s no food. There’s no way out.” I rested the bullet at the edge of the table. “Except this bullet. One bullet to the brain, or you can die of thirst, just like that little girl did.”

I got to my feet. “This is where we part ways,
darling
. I’d like to say it’s been fun, but it really hasn’t.”

I set the bullet down, then I walked out of the room.

Though I knew Sylvia wasn’t a good shot and couldn’t load the gun up fast enough, it didn’t stop the danger from prickling in my back as I turned away from the most evil person I’d ever met.

As I walked towards my car, I heard the sound of the gun firing.

Ellie / Jenny:

In a few days, it was all going to be over, and my heart hurt with a fiercer ache than my bottom.

There were still twinges of pain where Sylvia had caned me, but I was healing. My skin had been split open only in two places and the cells had already begun the process of knitting themselves together.

I stood inside the huge closet in Alexander’s bedroom and eyed my wounds in the three-way mirror but though my gaze was on my bottom, my thoughts were far away.

A cough sounded and Alexander walked in. His expression darkened when he saw what I was doing but he didn’t say anything. He hadn’t said anything since that night where he had held me close and told me that I was the only person that mattered. I’d slept in his bed and he’d hugged me all night, but he hadn’t reached for me. He hadn’t inclined his head towards the playroom with a toe-curling grin and he hadn’t pushed me down on my knees with a dark look of need in his eyes.

Yet I craved his dominance. I wanted him. Sleeping with his arms around me wasn’t enough. I needed to belong to him the way I did only in the playroom. I needed to submit to him.

I’d gone into the playroom yesterday. I’d been expecting a panic attack, but it hadn’t come. There had been far more good memories in this room than bad ones. Alexander tying me up and tormenting me with his tongue. Alexander laughing as he made me read a book out aloud to him, some silly romance thing I’d been engrossed in, while he held the Hitachi against my weeping pussy, testing my commitment to my book. In this playroom, the wounds inflicted in Abeokuta had healed and the scars that would forever be seared into me had faded.

I let go of the fact that Sylvia had caned me. Unlike in Abeokuta, I hadn’t been helpless.
This time, Sylvia had hurt me because I’d allowed it.
I’d weighed the prospect of my beating and my goal of revenge and I’d picked revenge. I’d had choices and in the end, it was the fact that I’d chosen that kept me from panic and made me want to reclaim Alexander’s playroom.

I didn’t want my last memories of this room to be of my ordeal at Sylvia’s hands. I wanted Alexander.

But he didn’t make a move towards me. There was guilt in his eyes when he gazed at my bruised ass. I could tell his failure to protect me from Sylvia was eating away at him. Sylvia had held power over me for too long.  Now, she was affecting the precious last days I had with Alexander.

I wasn’t going to let it happen.

Just like the other night, when I’d entered his bedroom and pleaded for his touch, it seemed like I would have to make a move. I had the perfect weapon, one that Alexander himself had given me. My contract, the one he’d drawn up when I’d first arrived in Paris, had promised me four sessions a week and I was about to hold him to it.

“Can we talk?” I asked, my voice loud in the quiet.

He nodded. “Of course.” His voice was emotionless. “Where would you prefer?”

I reached for the pale green cotton dress I’d taken off to study my wounds and shrugged it over my shoulders. “In your study?” I asked.

I hadn’t been in that room since my snooping expedition. With a start, I realized I still didn’t know why Alexander had a list with my name on it. I’d conveniently chosen to push that to the back of my mind, focusing instead on the pleasure he brought me in the bedroom and the playroom.

Not too long ago, I would have torn myself to shreds with harsh words for being so weak and so pathetic that I’d traded my soul for a little pleasure in the bedroom, but after Sylvia, I understood myself just a little better. In Paris, two years ago, I’d chosen to go home with him to try and heal a bone-deep fear of desire and the wreckage it left in its aftermath. This time around, ever since that night at the
Palais
Garnier
, I’d chosen to let myself trust him in the playroom so I could reclaim my own sexuality without panic or fear.

I might have fallen in love with the man who revealed himself to me, an intriguing blend of dominance and humour and genuine kindness, but just as I wore a mask that hid my true motivations, so did Alexander. The way Sylvia had been brushed aside prickled at me. The list of fifteen names was still unexplained. Alexander had his secrets and in some way, I was entwined in them.

Hanoi would be an ending in many ways. If I managed to survive killing Dylan, I would have plenty of time to mourn. For the moment, I tucked away the doubts in the back of my mind. In the playroom, I trusted Alexander completely. Everything else was going to have to wait till after Vietnam.

We both sat down in the study. With shaking fingers, I pulled out the contract and extended it towards him. He stiffened almost imperceptibly when he saw what I held, then he raised an eyebrow at me.

“It says four sessions a week,” I said.

His eyes found mine. “After the beating you endured at Sylvia’s hands, the contract’s null and void,” he replied flatly. “You’ll find that there’s measures written into the document for this kind of thing. The money will be fully paid to your account, of course. Your sister’s treatment will not be in jeopardy as a result of this incident.”

“Don’t I get a say?” I was proud of the strength in my voice. “Mistakes happen. Can’t we get past this?”

“I promised I’d keep you safe from her. I failed.”

I was a trained operative. If he wanted to void the contract, he might not take me to Vietnam and that should have caused the most panic. Yet it wasn’t that risk that caused my heart to shrivel with agony. It was that he wanted me gone.

I only had the truth to use as a weapon. No contract. No games. Nothing other than honesty. Or, as close to honesty as I dared get, while still keeping my real identity and motivations a secret.

“Alexander,” I whispered. I slid down on my knees at his feet. “Sir.” My eyes met his. “Please don’t send me away.” I bit my lip and continued before he could speak and voice a rejection. “You’ve made the playroom a safe space for me. You’ve taught me what trust is and shown me the pleasures that come with surrendering my control. If you send me away…” My voice trailed away. I fisted my fingers into my palms and fought for calm.

“I need to go back to the playroom with you. I don’t want to flinch away from the canes.”

He contradicted those words immediately. “I’m not going to cane your ass.” There was no room to argue there. “You’ve barely healed. It’s too soon.”

I looked up at him, trying to bargain for what I needed. “I don’t want to be hit with the cane. That just hurts and I don’t get any pleasure out of it,” I said. “But you don’t have to use full force, do you? We could just play.”

He looked troubled. “You want to play with the cane?” He was repeating my words to buy himself some time. I could see the wheels in his head turning, though his thoughts remained concealed from me.

I nodded. “I need to reclaim your playroom. I felt safe there. I want to feel safe there again.”

***

Alexander:

She’d wanted to live in a house on top of a hill, surrounded by water, so she could see who was sneaking up on her.

Because of what Dylan had done to her. Because of what Sylvia had done.

I’d spent so much of my life trying to undo the damage Dylan caused, uncaring about its impact on my life, but this thing she asked of me? This was going to destroy me.

I knew she’d entered the playroom in the last few days, but what she didn’t know was that I couldn’t bring myself to enter that same space. I couldn’t approach the door without seeing the image of her bloodied bottom and her tear-streaked face. I couldn’t walk past without being reminded that I had failed to protect her.

Fifteen women and none more important than her.
My bright star.

She could ask anything of me and I would move mountains to make it so. Anything she desired – if it was within my power to give, I would. Including this. Even if each stroke of the cane was going to tear a hole in my soul.

“You aren’t bound by the contract or the money. You could leave now.” My words were a lie. Her goal was Hanoi. Her target, Dylan. She wouldn’t leave. She couldn’t, not when she’d come so far.

Yet I could also tell that her request was real. She did need me to cane her in the playroom. It was a necessary part of her recovery and not a ploy to regain closeness to me. We might have stayed shrouded in our lies, but in the playroom, all the pretenses dropped away and only honesty was left.

“I really can’t.” Her voice was soft.  

I nodded. “In that case, go upstairs. Get naked. Wait at the door to the playroom.” I smiled at her. “On your knees, of course.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment. “Thank you, Sir,” she said finally.

I stroked her hair gently, then my voice hardened. “Jenny,” I snapped. “Which part of go upstairs and wait was unclear to you?”

She grinned slightly at my tone of mock-displeasure. “Sorry Sir,” she laughed. “I’m going right now.”

I watched her leave with a smile on my lips, but my smile dimmed once I was alone in the room. I had no business playing with her. Hanoi was mere days away. When the truth all came out, she would hate me for what I had done. Worse, I would hate myself.

***

She was naked and kneeling at the entrance to the playroom, waiting for me.

Her trust awed me. Dylan had held her for two years, raping and torturing her. That she was here, anticipation in her eyes, waiting for me to tie her up and cane her? I was almost completely overwhelmed.

I needed her strength. I needed to know that Dylan hadn’t completely wrecked her, the way he had with Pamela and so many other women and as much as I needed to be brave and whole, she needed the same from me. She needed a dominant to push her to the edge, yet hold her safe. She needed to know that sex wasn’t only about pain. Dominance and submission wasn’t about a meek acceptance of the hand that had been dealt to her. Rather, it was about standing up tall and claiming what she wanted.

“Crawl in.” My voice didn’t betray my thoughts. She instantly obeyed, padding in with a sinuous grace into the room. Once she was in the spot I indicated, she knelt up, her legs parted.

She was beautiful. Perfect. She could never be mine.

I’d deliberately asked her to enter the room the way Sylvia had insisted. I knew what she needed. She’d once told me she couldn’t forget. Today was about creating a different set of memories, to overlay the terrible ones that Sylvia had caused.

If I could help her, I would. It was that simple.  

“Good.” I praised her obedience and gestured for her to stand up. She rose and I moved closer. “Hands above your head.” My gaze lowered to her bottom, my fingers caressing her skin, checking on her wounds.

“It’s healing fine,” she volunteered. I could tell she wanted to play. Her body betrayed her arousal. Her nipples had become erect and her legs were parted, waiting for me to touch her.

“Did I ask for an opinion, Jenny?” I bit out and she shook her head instantly. My lips twitched at her response and I brushed a kiss against her velvet-soft shoulder. “You should keep quiet then,” I suggested smoothly.

“Sorry Sir,” she said meekly, yet the undertone of laughter in her voice was obvious.
Brat.

I led her to a spot against the wall, pulling a tall, narrow, padded bench from a closet. Two rods stuck out from the centre of the bench, to which I screwed on a dildo and a butt plug. I drizzled some lube over both of them. “Sit,
cherie
,” I invited.

She lowered herself on the toys, groaning as the twin shafts filled her flesh. “Oh god,” she whimpered, her moan changing to a gasp as the toys started vibrating inside. “Fuck.”

I watched as her eyes went hazy with pleasure. Little tremors shook her body. Her hips ground down on the toys, forcing them deeper into her pussy and ass. In minutes, she was close to her climax.

“Way too soon,” I chided, as I flicked the button, stopping the vibrations. “Were you thinking of coming without permission?”

Her expression slowly cleared. “No Sir,” she said softly. “I wasn’t.”

“That’s good,
cherie
,” I said. “Because you don’t want to be punished, trust me.”

The bench was tall enough that her feet didn’t touch the ground. I found leather straps and fastened her thighs to the conveniently placed steel rings on the end of the bench, holding her legs open. Straps circled her ankles as well, tying her to the iron legs of the bench.

“Give me your hands,” I instructed. I buckled leather cuffs around her wrists and drew her hands up in the air, attaching them to a chain that dangled from the ceiling.

She was now completely immobilized. Her body held taut by the restraints around her wrists, her legs spread open. Her puffy, shiny-wet pussy lips closed around the dildo in her vagina. Her clitoris hid under its hood, but not for long. My bright star was noticeably turned on.

She was ready for the cane.

I had broken the cane Sylvia had used on her in an excess of angry, frustrated rage. I reached for a different one, a rattan cane with a leather handle, swishing it in the air a couple times.

Her eyes clouded with fear at the sound of the cane slicing through the air. I watched her struggle to push her panic away and to keep her breathing even. “Relax.” She responded to the order by inhaling deeply and locking her eyes onto me. “Show me how brave you are.”