Page 74 of Vienna Betrayal

Imagined forcing her to straddle a wooden horse, her hands tied overhead, feet barely touching the ground. She’d stand on her toes as long as she could, but her calf muscles would fatigue and she’d be forced to put her whole bodyweight on her pussy, her labia splayed open by the narrow top of the punishment horse.

Alexander’s hand curled into a fist. Damn it. Those kinds of thoughts were exactly why he’d been the one to try walking away the first and second nights.

Alena wasn’t the kind of sub that would meekly accept the torture, using it to sink into some calm mental headspace he’d never fully understood, but greatly respected.

She would fight it, challenge him even as she suffered, and that would only make him want to see how far he could push her. To see what it would take to break her, to strip away her regal core, the reserve that made her the type of sub he really shouldn’t ever play with.

Divest her of everything that prevented the power exchange from tipping all the way to his side.

That thought was abhorrent. She’d said he wasn’t a monster, but deep down he was cruel and grotesque.

He’d mail her the damned scarf, and maybe by next month he’d have better control of some of his more sadistic fantasies.

The sound of footsteps made him look up. They were quick, purposeful steps and Alexander tensed. The end of the hall where he stood was dark, so if he held still, the person coming up the stairs probably wouldn’t see him.

It was probably one of his staff who’d stayed late working, or come in early for some odd reason. Most likely it was his chef, who came in early some days to start making bread.

Alena, dressed in black, her hair in a messy bun, cleared the last step and raced for her room. She was carrying a…hair dryer?

He rubbed his eyes. Was he seeing things?

The sound of her door closing was quiet, but very real. He hadn’t imagined it.

What was she doing up, and wandering around with a hair dryer? Did she sleepwalk?

If she was sleepwalking, should he wake her up? He frowned, trying to remember if he’d read somewhere that you shouldn’t wake up someone who was sleepwalking.

Before he could decide, Alena’s door opened again. She walked out, sans hair dryer.

Alexander pushed away from the wall and followed.

* * *

Alena slid into the parlor,and pulled the door closed behind her. She hustled across the room.

The light on the HPA was solid red.

Alena unplugged the firewire cable from the HPA, tucking the end under her leg as she knelt on the floor. Grabbing the laparoscope, she pulled her phone from her pocket and propped it up so she’d be able to see the camera feed one last time.

She could have unplugged the wire on her end and let it drop through the hole and hope there was no scheduled maintenance on the server farm in the next several days.

If she did that, the cord would eventually be discovered, and then, if they hired a good enough white hat to assess their IDS—which she’d blown by, thanks to pre-programed coding in the HPA—they’d figure out someone had accessed their data.

New, more secure protocols would be put in place, and if what she was looking for wasn’t in the current data, the evidence she’d left behind and their reaction to it would all but guarantee there would be no way to repeat tonight’s activities.

Coming back would mean spending another night with Alexander.

Alena wasn’t paying enough attention, lost in thoughts of the man sleeping somewhere above her head. She pulled the trigger to retract the clamp, but neglected to make sure the clamp had a good grip on the wire.

The laparoscope retracted, sans wire.

“Damn it,” she hissed.

* * *

Alexander stood,frozen, in the entrance to the second floor gallery parlor.

He watched as Alena manipulated a long stick-like thing which seemed to be stuck into the floor.

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