Held ~ Chapter Four

"Held ~ Chapter Three" 

HELD ~ Chapter Four          

Exhaustion, nerves, and excitement warred within Kara as the elegant black BMW sped down the highway. Staring at the passenger side window, she watched her son's reflection in the flicker of passing lights. Nick looked so small huddled in the back seat. Fatigue left purplish half moons under hazel eyes full of trepidation. Little fingers worried the laces of his football resting in his lap. Shame brought twin spots of color to Kara's pale cheeks. Ean's raised brow as he had stored their meager belongings in his rental's spacious trunk had spoke volumes. Nick deserved better. As hard as she had worked to take care of him...it had never been enough.

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, Kara chanced a glance at Ean. His profile presented, she let her gaze run over the hard planes of his face. A moment of unease sent a shiver through her and she shook it off determinedly. His cell phone rang and she respectfully turned away to grant him what little privacy afforded them. Leaning her head against the glass again, she took in the lush Southern California scenery in wonder. It was a far cry from the stark urbanscape of the windy city that she had imagined earlier. A tremor of excitement ran through her as they smoothly exited the highway...LAGUNA CANYON RD / CA-133 S. 

The snap of the closing cell phone broke the silence. A sharp note of impatience in Ean's voice cut through her reverie, making tension thrum through her slender body.

"After I drop you and Nick off at the house, I need go into work and take care of some business." At her worried gaze Ean forced the frown from his features and offered her a reassuring smile.

"No worries, Annabelle runs my household and will see you and Nick settled. I should not be long."

When he continued to regard her, a hint of expectation in his pale eyes, Kara blushed.

"Yes sir," she whispered.

"Good girl," Ean murmured, stroking an approving forefinger down her jaw line. Goose flesh broke out at his touch and she struggled to quell a shiver.                              


The front door of the sprawling hillside estate clicked shut with barely a sound, leaving them alone. Kara lowered her eyes as the elegant Latina housekeeper considered her with open disdain. Feeling the tension, Nick hugged the back of her thigh, hiding his face shyly. Reaching back, Kara smoothed his pale, blond hair, trying to offer reassurance she didn't feel herself. As if coming to a decision, Annabelle nodded sharply and turned on her heel.

"Follow me," she ordered without looking back. Kara scrambled to grab the rolled sleeping bag, Nick's backpack, their drab Army duffle and a cheap upright suitcase. The diminutive woman's chilly voice froze Kara's hand on the telescoping handle.

"Don't you dare drag that thing on my floor." 

Feeling Nick's fingers dig into her thigh, Kara swallowed a lump in her throat and took a calming breath before smiling down at him.

"Could you carry this for Mommy?" she asked him softly. At his nod she pressed his Colts sleeping bag into his little arms. His face lit in a smile as he eagerly "helped" and for a moment Kara forgot all but that smile.

Bony fingers bit cruelly into her chin and her eyes flew up to meet malicious ebony slits.

"Perhaps I need make myself clear, girl. Disobedience is not tolerated in this household, nor laziness. I will not warn you again. Is that understood?"

"Ye...yes Ma'am," Kara stuttered.

Giving her cheeks another sharp squeeze the furious Latina hissed,"See that it is."
Whirling on her heel she stalked away, sensible pumps cracking like gunfire on the highly polished wood floors.



Sitting back on her heels, Kara ran her towel along the door track of the massive marble shower, weary eyes inspecting the smooth surface for the smallest smudge. She stood slowly, closing the door with a clean edge of the towel to prevent finger marks and surveyed the rest of the master bath. Everywhere she turned, cool marble and elegant fixtures gleamed and her shoulders slumped in relief. A huge yawn brought reflexive tears to her eyes and she awkwardly wiped them on the sleeve of her utilitarian gray and white uniform. Hefting her maid's caddy she headed back downstairs.


The grandfather clock in the foyer taunted Kara as it majestically rang the noon hour. Numbly, she forced her brain to calculate the hours since she had slept more than a wink in the back seat...thirty...would that be thirty three with the change of time zones?  Her stomach rumbled a protest of its own. Gritty eyes watering, she bit back a yawn with a determined shake of her head. Tamping down the hunger pangs with long practice, she concentrated on putting one knee before the other, creeping along the baseboards, carefully wiping any dust or wax buildup from the ornate woodwork.

At the sound of the front door, Kara's stomach knotted with unease. Pressing her slender body closer to the wall, she concentrated on working the dust cloth into the detailed crevices and making herself invisible. Despite her resolve, her throat tightened as he walked past without a word. Stealing a surreptitious glance, she couldn't help but admire the way his white dress shirt accented his broad shoulders, or his light gray dress slacks followed the curve of his firm ass so perfectly. A small smile curved her lips as her exhausted mind quipped

"My compliments to your tailor".

Ean frowned, glancing back over his shoulder with a raised brow.

"Excuse m..." the words died on his tongue as he looked down into Kara's green eyes, blood shot and wide with fear. Neither said a word as she stared up at him, exhaustion, confusion and terror clearly stamped on her pale face. Surprise evaporated quickly, replaced with profound annoyance. Images of the enticing wench freshly shaved, bathed, and lotioned...ensconced in the luxurious expanse of his king sized bed had played hide and seek within his mind all morning as he had conducted business on autopilot. A sneer of disgust curled his lip at the urchin before him...wet, bedraggled, obviously exhausted...the slender nymphs body that he ached to cover and possess hidden in shapeless servants attire. Ean Vaughn was not a man used to his plans or desires being thwarted.
       
"Explain," he growled between gritted teeth.

Kara trembled violently, staring at the floor, her gaze hiding from the cold fury in his face. He hadn't said it but the words were there...hanging in the air between them along with the ghosts of her past...ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?

"I...i...i..." she stuttered, as helpless tears started to trickle down her cheeks.

Ean let his eyes close for the briefest of moments at the tears, and silently reminded himself she was young, frightened, naïve and above all tired. The first piece of the puzzle fell into place as her gaze darted past him at the sound of high heels and she cringed. Capturing a tight rein on his temper, he shifted his stance slightly as to watch Annabelle out of the corner of narrowed blue eyes...and waited.

"I apologize, Sir. I..i...didn't even realize I ha...had said it out loud. I...i certainly meant no disrespect Sir," the girl stuttered with soft sobs. At Ean's chuckle, she held her breath.

"I wasn't referring to your shameless appreciation of my body, little one," he chuckled again...low and sensual...rousing both the hair on the back of Kara's neck and small flames of desire. "No worries, pet. In time you will know this body better than your own." Reaching down, he took her hand and gently helped her to her feet. He tightened his grip as she reached for the caddy of cleaning supplies and she looked up at him.

Ean had kept a close eye on Annabelle during the proceedings and watching her look of gloating superiority slip had been extremely satisfying. Her calm mask back in place, she was unable to hide the tremble of her veined hands from him. At his cold smile, she folded them neatly before her. He looked back down at Kara.

"That is not your place here. Your maid uniform will be a bit more risqué...and I would prefer your time spent on your knees be more beneficial to me personally." He winked lecherously and watched with a growing hunger as her face flushed a becoming pink. His mind wandered..."Take that ill fitting rag off."

Kara trembled at the soft huskiness of Ean's voice. Noting the still familiar gleam in new eyes, she swallowed hard, her mind whirling uncertainly. Nick was asleep in the small room Ms. Fernandez had shown her to. Did he want her to...she jumped as his voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Now, Kara." The soft command in his voice cracked like a whip, and there was no misunderstanding him as he held an impatient hand out for the offending garment.

Her blush deepening, she lowered her eyes and slowly unbuttoned the simple uniform. Letting the oversized dress slip from her shoulders, she carefully stepped clear. Placing it in Ean's outstretched hand, she wrapped her arms shyly around herself and waited, staring at her black platform sandals.

Ean drew a deep breath, watching her pale skin color under his gaze. Clothed only in a nude, lace, demi-cup bra and barely perceptible matching thong, the platforms lengthening her shapely legs...she was lovely. Slowly he reached out to her...taking first one hand...and the other...stripping away her cover. He stared down at her, his pale blue eyes forthright in their appreciation. Lowering his head his lips covered hers, slowly roving over them, memorizing their contours...learning her taste. Kara swayed on her feet and he pulled back, a sheepish smile curving his lips, genuine warmth creeping into his gaze.

"You are out on your feet. You need sleep, little one," he murmured. Tossing the soiled uniform derisively to Annabelle, he easily swept Kara into his arms.

"Nick..." she gasped as he headed for the stairs.

"I will check on him once I get you settled," he promised, giving her a little squeeze. All other protests died on Kara's lips as he settled her against his hard chest and bounded easily up the stairs. 



Kara properly bathed and curled in his bed upstairs, Ean stood in the servant's apartments and looked down on her sleeping son.  A half eaten Styrofoam bowl of some kind of soup and a small cardboard box of fruit juice sat nearby and the TV still played cartoons. His gaze swept the rest of the room. A cheap suitcase lay open, holding more of the juice boxes, packets of instant oatmeal, various condiment packets, crackers and about a dozen packages of Ramen noodles. Turning a package in his fingers, he raised an eyebrow at the fourteen-cent price tag. Judging by the directions and the tiny coffee pot plugged in on the dresser, Ean figured that was what the child had been eating. His brow furrowed at the simplicity of the fare. However, he had to give Kara credit for doing what had to be done for her son.

Curious, he picked up a small backpack obviously belonging to the child. It held a coloring book, battered box of crayons, half a dozen muscled action figures, and a Game Boy Advance with a handful of games, all secured snuggly in a padded case. Only one treasure missing Ean thought.  Looking back at the boy, his mouth turned up at the corner. Even in sleep the child's arm was secured around the football.

Opening the drab Army shoulder bag, he sifted through her few belongings, trying to piece together just who this woman was that had captured his heart. Her and the boy's clothing was clean and neat if sparse and inexpensive. The only items of a personal nature were a pair of hard cover books, their red imitation leather covers well worn, found wrapped in a soft flannel shirt. Flipping through the twin volumes by JRR Tolkien...The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings...turned up Nick's hospital birth certificate and a dog-eared photo envelope of snap shots. Shuffling the pictures he studied the rag tag collection of baby pictures and candid shots of Nick. He paused at a breathtaking photo of Kara. A wave of jealousy swept over him as he wondered who the photographer was that had captured that look in her eye. She stood on an isolated beachfront, white-capped waves breaking on rocks at her back, and the wind whipping her hair. Those lips of hers curved in a soft half smile, her fathomless eyes reflected the waves...reaching out...beckoning...captivating.

Giving himself a mental shake, he frowned and began replacing items in the bag. Lost in his thoughts, he startled as something moved within the folds. His initial repulsion turned to concern as not one, but two pale brown spiders moved into the light at the top of the bag. Leaning closer, Ean studied the larger of the two. About three quarters of an inch long, the arachnid had a distinct violin shaped marking on its back. His lips pressed together firmly. Nudging the rolled up sleeping bag experimentally with the toe of his boot, he frowned. Pulling out his cell phone he dialed the grounds keeper. The Brown recluse was not native to California. However, if the bag was infested with the venomous creatures, it and its contents would have to be taken care of immediately before the pests became an issue.




Clasping her trembling hands before her, Annabelle stopped before her employer's desk and waited, head bowed. Seconds stretched into minutes with only the quiet tick tock of the clock breaking the silence. Her already taut nerves near breaking, she risked a glance up only to look right into Senor Vaughn's artic stare. Lowering her gaze hastily, she fought to control the shaking of her knees. Never had she seen her employer so livid. She tensed as he stood and came slowly around the desk. He stopped before her and leaned against the heavy furniture, still regarding her without a word. 

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" he finally asked.

"Senor, I thought..."

"I don't pay you to think!" he snapped, cutting her off. "This fiasco clearly illustrates why."

Annabelle flinched as he stepped around her but didn't dare turn. Ears tuned to his every movement, she shivered at the sound of the armoire opening. Her breath caught in her throat as he cut the air experimentally with a cane.

"Assume the position," he ordered shortly.

Hands now shaking in earnest, she fumbled with the buttons on her uniform. Dropping the simple garment to pool around her feet, she bent to retrieve it and laid it neatly across the nearby library table. Rolling down the tops of her thigh high stockings, she turned to the high back wooden chair he had set in the middle of the room. Bending over the back, she stretched to grasp the chairs legs with an unsteady breath. Her head snapped up in surprise as Senor Vaughn squatted in front of her, securing her wrists tight to the legs with Velcro cuffs. Real fear welled in her. Her employer did not often resort to restraints. She tested them as he stepped behind her and was rewarded with a sharp cut of the cane across her tender thighs. Biting off her cry, she struggled to stand still as her ankles were bound to the chair as well.

Straightening, Ean admired the white welt across the housekeeper's thigh, watching it redden. A perverse smirk turned the corner of his mouth as he prodded her tender nether lips with the cane's tip, finding the old bitch already wet. Dropping the rod down he brought it up smartly between her thighs, nearly laughing out loud as her strangled cry tapered to a tortured moan. Stepping back he flexed the bamboo in his hands for a moment then pulled it back, beginning the cut behind his head he brought it forward forcefully, the rattan searing unerringly across the sweet juncture of buttocks and thighs. A scream of pure agony ripped from the elderly Latina's lips. Giving her no respite, Ean brought the next blow down across the upper swell of her ass. Methodically he spaced the blows until ten pale welts emblazoned her buttocks from top to bottom, then stepping behind her he brought the cane down twice in a vicious ark, crisscrossing his previous work. Anguished shrieks bounced off the library walls as her skin split.

He waited until her screams died to sobs and stepped again to her left side. Casually he measured the back of her left thigh with the cane.

"Please," she sobbed, shaking her head in a haze of pain.

"Come now, Annabelle, you know me better than that," Ean chided. "However, since you asked so nicely, I will make it another twelve rather than six," he finished, slapping the cane between her thighs in quick succession. She squealed as the rattan bit into her swollen flesh but couldn't stop the rotation of her hips as he rubbed the tip for a moment.

"Pain slut," he murmured derisively, letting the first blow welt her lower thigh, enjoying the way the flexible rattan curved around to lick at the soft inner skin eliciting sharp squalls at the end of her screams. Giving her five on each thigh, he delivered the last two with a sweeping uppercut across the sweet spot, catching her swollen pussy. Her shrill scream cut off suddenly as the pain unbearable, she lost consciousness.


The arid burn of smelling salts brought Annabelle back from the bliss of oblivion. Realizing she was free of the restraints, she crawled slowly to his feet. Through eyes blurred with tears and the haze of pain, she eyed the hard ridge of his arousal behind well-tailored dress pants.

"I believe we both know there are those younger...better suited to ease that frustration," he said, voice hard and cold. The hunger in her obsidian eyes flared to hatred as he continued. "I've meant to thank you. Pounding Rosie's sweet, round ass is a very effective way of taking the edge off."

"Bastardo!" she cried, trying desperately to come to her feet at the mention of her eighteen-year-old granddaughter.

A hard slap knocked her back to her knees...the two that followed were stinging...humiliating...to put the woman back in her place. They served their purpose. Annabelle's shoulders slumped.

"Will that be all, Senor?" she asked, her voice soft with tearful courtesy.

"After nearly thirty years, give me a little credit, Annabelle. I am well aware of your masochistic tendencies. That little scene was for my pleasure. Your punishment will be the loss of a week's pay." He met her stricken look for a long moment and then nodded.

"That will be all."

She stood with difficulty and struggled into her uniform. He watched as she paused to straighten her silver shot hair in the mirror, drawing her dignity around her like an impenetrable cloak. Slowly she made her way to the door. He waited until she opened the door before speaking her name.

"Annabelle."

She paused, her hand shaking visibly on the door handle.

"Yes, Senor?" 

"Send your granddaughter in." 

"Held ~ Chapter Five"