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137 Q Street
Part Sixteen
by sarAdora

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He didn't argue with her, waited until she quieted, and took her into the shower with him. With tenderness she hadn't expected, he washed her body, lathering her gently, his hands kneading her sore cheeks, his breath warm on her neck. She leaned into him, letting him take the lead, conserving her strength for whatever might follow.

Sitting on the side of the tub, he wrapped her in toweling and then dried her hair, fingers massaging her scalp and neck and his lips constantly brushing across her face. Alex was surprised at how quiet she was, but he was grateful for her silence. They were both drained from the emotionally charged day and both were in sore need of rest.

Tucking her into the bed she had used when she had been incarcerated, he kissed her brow one final time and turning the light off, closed the door behind him. Neysa wasn't going anywhere; all exits would require a key. He poured a tall scotch and went out to the deck to ponder his next move.

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Intent on planning her escape, her mind wandered as she mulled over the previous events. Physically exhausted, she couldn't stir the energy necessary to get out of bed; an attempt to escape would have to wait until her strength returned. Thinking an hour of rest would do the trick, she fell into a deep sleep the moment her eyes closed.

Morning dawned early and the warm body pressed against her back was comforting. She pushed back against it thinking it was part of her dream and it was... the embrace of his arms part of her dream-sleep. Wrapping her arms over the strong ones holding her close, she drifted back into deeper slumber.

Alex smiled in spite of his foggy mental state. Neysa wanted him even if she didn't consciously know it. He was content to pursue his plan to make her face her fears.

"I'm going to love you, now," he told her when they both woke later in the morning. "I'm going to make love to you and then I'll make breakfast."

"I don't want you to make love to me," she said quietly and then amended her words. "Unless I get to be on top and..."

"We're going to do it *my* way," he said softly. "You're going to give me control of your body and let me love you any way I want."

"No!"

"Yes," he replied, his voice soft but firm. "I won't hurt you, Neysa. You won't ever heal from the terrors of your childhood until you give me your naked self."

"I can't," she whimpered.

"You can."

"Do whatever you want," she said in the sing-song, subdued voice of one resigned to her fate. " I won't fight you."

"You *will* fight me," he snapped, not believing for one second that Neysa would give up control of her body just because he demanded it. "You will fight me and then you'll yield," he assured her. B

ut he had underestimated her fears. She would rather let him do what he wanted with her body than yield control. Mentally, she would go to her 'safe' place.

"Stay with me!" he yelled, shaking her when he saw her eyes refocus somewhere he couldn't see. "Stay with me, damn it! Fight me!"

The woman's robe was open, her belly pale white and so extended, eight-year old Neysa was certain it would explode any second. She couldn't make out the man's words but it sounded like he was saying sweet things to her. She hadn't meant to invade their privacy, the rabbit she was chasing had darted behind the bushes that bordered the neighbor's property.

When Neysa realized where she was, her curiosity got the best of her. She had never seen a pregnant woman's naked belly and this woman was great with child. Her husband knelt between his wife's legs, his hands touching her gently and while Neysa couldn't see exactly what his hands were doing, it was obvious his wife was enjoying his attention. She shook her head - grownups did very strange things. When the rabbit crossed her line of sight again, she darted after it, the woman and her husband forgotten until this moment.

Vaguely, she was aware that Alex was kneeling between her thighs... his hands stroking her... what he was doing felt good. She was safe with him; it was okay. She opened her eyes.

Seated deep inside her, he couldn't stop his forward momentum, his body almost at peak's point. "So...." he drawled. "You've come back to me. Thought I was screwing a blow-up doll. Thought you didn't care what I did to you," he snarled and then grunted heavily with his release.

"Son of a bitching bastard," she snarled right back, well aware that his words were meant to stir her anger, make her strike back, make him try to wrest control. But he was in for a big surprise, she mused as she arched her hips into his final thrusts, draining him. "Some lover you turned out to be," she taunted. "Couldn't keep up the pace? Reverted back to your caveman ways? Stupid inept American! Think you own me because you're FBI? Think again, caveman!"

He couldn't help himself. He laughed at her words. Where was the shy and quiet woman they had incarcerated? Where was the brilliant and talented landscape architect? And where was the feisty woman who had demanded to be in control of their sexual liaisons? Suddenly, he had a feminist beneath him, and an anti-American feminist at that. He laughed again. He was going to make her face her fears but he was going to tame her in the process. Did life get any better than this? He smiled at the beautiful but angry face staring at him and pressed his weight into her, his mouth claiming hers in a hard rough kiss.

She fumed at his laughter, gasping at his weight on top of her and beat his back with her fists, but he didn't lift off of her and he didn't move his mouth from hers. She was left with no recourse.

So... she bit him.

His sudden growl startled her but when she suddenly found herself facedown over his lap, she screamed in outrage. Her bottom was still sore from the spanking he had administered the night before but Alex didn't seem to care. He swiftly re-ignited the fire and it burned white-hot and searing.

Neysa screamed... and faded out.

"Baby whore! Baby whore! Look who's here! A baby whore!"

"Pull her pants down. Let's see what she's got!"

"Ouch! Damn you! She bit me!"

"Hit her! Hit her! Make her cry!"

"Run! The Constable's coming. Hurry!"

"Are you alright, miss? I'll see you home."

"Oh no, you don't," Alex murmured as he pulled Neysa up to his chest. "You're staying with me, this time." He shook her slightly and when she didn't open her eyes, he sat her sore bottom directly on his thighs and pinched her nostrils closed. Her mouth opened in reflex and when it did, he covered it with his own.

Neysa's eyes flew open as she tried to breathe and Alex lifted his mouth. "Good girl," he grinned. "Very good girl."

In nanoseconds, her brain registered the pain in her bottom cheeks and she tried to get off his lap but he held her in place. "Bastard!" she hissed, squirming in his lap.

"Yes," he continued to smile. "American FBI bastard."

"I hate you!" she gasped as he bounced her on his knee, each contact searing her, each contact ripping holes in her defense mechanisms.

"I know," he chuckled. "And you love me, too." At her look of astonishment, he pulled her into a tighter embrace, pinning her arms between them and nuzzled her neck. "You don't have to tell me you love me, baby. It's enough that I know that you do."

"You! You..." she stuttered. "I'm going to...!"

"Yes, you are," he laughed softly, "and soon, too."

~ End Part Sixteen ~

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