You'll Answer To Me
You'll Answer To Me
Eleven years later...
Five years had passed since she'd seen the winery, the stables, the fields of grapes, the house, and the beautiful rolling valley where she'd spent five years as Alexa Dupree, indentured servant to Warren Tatum. The contracted ten-year tenure ended prematurely and in spectacular fashion, when a riding accident, a twist of the neck, ended the life of the man who held her fate in his hands. Except for the occasional verboten sexual moment she enjoyed in the arms of his winery foreman Bo Hitchcock, Alexa had no reason to stay in the valley once Tatum was gone. She'd immediately thought of home, of bustling London streets and the salty air surrounding the summer cottage where she'd spent her happiest days as Phillip Wittendon's daughter. But England was not safe for her - and it could never be home again, not as long as the murder of Phillip Wittendon remained unsolved. A quick Internet search would reveal that Inspector Harriman was still doggedly pursuing the case and she was still his primary suspect.
Not surprisingly, when Warren met his demise, she turned to the California coast, to its fragrant salt air and the anonymity of its small coastal towns; perhaps reminiscent of home in England, perhaps just the most convenient place to land after five years in her sheltered world. She wasn't yet ready to embark on a big adventure. She could have gone anywhere in the United States that caught her fancy, but she didn't have the courage; plus she wasn't exactly in the country legally, even though Warren had made sure she had adequate documentation should any question about her identity arise.
That's not to minimize the impact of Warren's death. With his passing, she leapt into her newly found freedom with winged feet. Ready for a new life, the high-spirited Alexa Dupree landed a job at a rustic resort just off Hwy 1, not far from Mendocino. She could drink in all the salt air she could stand and let the memories of home in England haunt her with every breath. The move had been good for her. She'd established herself in the community as a pleasant and friendly young woman, willing to help in a pinch, but unwilling to discuss her past. About that little was known. She would easily divert the conversation if someone questioned her about her family or where she came from. She left her questioners to the vague impression that her life had been rough and she was happy not to think about it now.
Returning to the valley five years after Warren's death brought back other memories, wistful ones of her time at Tatum's estate. Her body instantly reacted with an incessant pounding in her loins and a flutter of desire in her pussy that sent an unwanted surge of sexual need flooding through her. She squirmed a bit in the passenger's seat, but otherwise ignored the physical arousal and kept her eyes on the narrow, winding road.
The California countryside was dotted with enormous black oaks, its fields planted with grapes, and berries. Despite her efforts to thwart their influence, the wild scents clinging to the warm air were like a drug bringing her back to the lust of her days with her master and the life he demanded of her then. She never called him master; she called him sir and nothing else. In her mind he was benefactor, lover and sadist, all in equal measure. She defied him often at the start and was punished often for her defiance. Brutally...insanely, she thought at the time, though she hungered for his toughness even now - when she needed his strength, when she felt vulnerable, when her life was about to unravel. She needed his rules and the punishment, having found that navigating the world was so much easier for her then, even if she had little freedom under Warren's unyielding domination. As the old jalopy rattled down the winding road to the valley with her at Bo's side in the passenger seat, the fact that for even a moment she wanted that