Chapter One

 

"I'm desperate, Robert," she declared, weary resignation pouring from her words, her eyes and the exquisite persona of the sensuously endowed woman. The two sat at the window table of Café Aria, lunching on vichyssoise, cheese and tossed greens. Robert added oysters to his meal. Their waiter wore tails.

"Sasha, you are always desperate," Robert Dante remarked, as his manicured hand reached for a wine goblet and he took a drink.

Sasha sipped hers. She batted her eyes at him with a flirtatious twinkle, reduced to charming him, since he was not responding to desperation. Picking up the white linen napkin, she dabbed an end at the corner of her mouth while two gold charm bracelets tinkled on her wrist. Despite the meal, her red lips looked freshly painted.

Sasha Casella's chestnut hair was severely coifed, pulled back from her amber hued face and tied with a smart black bow at the base of her neck. Long ago she ceased hiding her facial expressions with curls of hair-once she realized how her strong features communicated more than just beauty. She moved through the world with authoritative ease, commandingly, never a victim to the lesser souls she met-except perhaps for Robert-the one man she could never own regardless of her desire to do so.

"I am desperate now, my love, Gabrielle will be the death of me-and herself." She sighed heavily as she languished against the table, leaning forward purposely to engage his sympathy.

"You are blatantly over dramatic, Sasha," Robert answered. He popped another oyster into his mouth. "Suppose you tell me why all this now?"

"Oh! Why do you eat those awful things!" She looked on his feast of oysters with a judgmental eye.

"Because I know how you hate them," he quipped.

"Please Robert, take her for a few weeks. Settle her down as you so sportingly do-until she has a little more appreciation for authority, and this whole legal thing blows over."

"You're still speaking in riddles, Sasha, be a little more blunt. That's never been a problem for you."

He was as severe a man as Sasha was a severe women-the two looked like a sparring king and queen on an elegant chess board. Notably, his near-black hair was sleeked back into a small ponytail behind his head. His eyes bore into her intently, an odd shadowy color-sometimes brown, sometimes appearing green, well-marked by defined brows. His face was substantial, full, yet with a classically sculptured nose, jawline and mouth. There was some Latin and some Celtic in his heritage giving him an astounding resonance that could be quite passionate and quite cold-though always directed, purposeful and unshakable. Robert Dante exuded a startling, thoroughly watchable elegance that was occasionally inviting, though usually forbidding.

"Okay, love, I'll give you the cold hard facts, since you won't consider my request without them. Though please don't discount her completely by what I say."

"The fact that I agreed to this lunch suggests that I take you seriously, Sasha. But don't dawdle, I have business."

"Yes, of course." She was showing a few cracks in her poise, not unexpected considering her position. "Gabrielle is suffering. My sister doesn't have a sensible bone in her body, and she's hell-bent on destroying herself and her future. I've paid for two spendy colleges and she can't manage a passing grade, while she takes on lovers like a whore-please excuse me, but I can't say it any other way."

Robert smiled, briefly amused.

"I have her with me now, but I swear, I'll kill her by the time the week's out. And the last straw, I spoke with the Hampshire Township police four nights ago, unbeknownst to me she was arrested for assorted misdemeanors-her boyfriend of the hour managed to bail her out. She's is facing some rather serious charges."

"Like what?"

"Drugs and several minor things. But speaking to Sheriff Cathcart, he was very much interested in avoiding a nasty scandal with our family, especially since that last one with my brother, Dicky. If I could simply get her out of the township, safely somewhere else-well, the charges can just sort of, disappear. You see my dilemma? I'm responsible for her and the family. There must be somewhere she can go that will cure her insanity."

"There are drug programs all over the country, and I'm certainly not one-why would you choose me?"

Sasha smiled warmly, the softness in her eyes intended to lure him to her purpose. "My sister needs something more than those programs offer her. She is classically obstinate, but she's not beyond a cure. I really don't think she's addicted to anything, but perhaps experimentation and sex. It's just the element she mingles with that gets her into these illegal messes. What she wants is structure and discipline."

"Why do you think that? Sounds to me as if you're just a sister trying to pass off your problem on me."

"Robert, please," she droned. "Why, I could have her in any dryout program in the country, but I don't think it's going to do her any good."

"They usually provide a good deal of discipline."

"But not the kind you'd offer her."

"And you think she's particularly suited for my methods?"

"She'll fight you, I'm sure. Of course, you'd expect that, but I think you're just the rude awakening she requires. You're so beautifully adept at instilling a sense of decorum and peace in young women."

"But not you," he noted.

"I needed something quite different, Robert. You and I were just too foolish to realize we were each other's worst nightmare before we went crazy and got married. Yet, fifteen years down the road, do you regret it?"

"I make a habit of avoiding regret."

She smiled, this time her affection real. Despite what horrors they endured at each other's hands, she maintained a curious love for her first husband.

"Do you have any firsthand knowledge of Gabrielle's desire for corporal punishment?"

"I do," Sasha replied immediately. "The day after she was arrested, she snuck out of the apartment without permission-I thought she was in bed asleep, that's how good she is at subterfuge. But when I heard some commotion in the living room about three in the morning, I found her half dressed and drunk, leaning on her boyfriend's arm as they stumbled toward her bedroom. Needless to say, I was pissed, my fury undisguised, and after retrieving a wooden spoon from the kitchen, I ripped her from that sorry scoundrel's grasp, and flung her over the back of a chair. I spanked her ass as hard as I could. To start, her sweet little derriere was covered by her skirt, but my anger was so meanly inclined, it wouldn't suffice unless I could see the results of the paddling. I must be honest, she wears all kinds of kinky clothes and this skirt barely covered her cheeks. Just as I expected, when I paused long enough to tear it off, she was naked underneath. While her bottom was already quite rosy, the look of her ass hardly compared to how it appeared when I was finished.

"I scalded her, Robert. I poured every ounce of pent-up fury into that paddling. Actually, I feel a little guilty about the strength of it. It was a bit brutal. But I knew that I couldn't really hurt her, it was just a simple wooden spoon connecting with her plump behind. Frankly, I was relieved, especially after I realized her response."

"What was that?" Robert asked.

"Well, she started out completely beside herself, as you might figure. She was screaming and flailing around, trying to get her boyfriend to come to her rescue. That little coward was hovering nearby, of course, watching for all he was worth, but he didn't lift a hand to help her. He was either too drunk or ..."

"I'm sure he was just chicken, Sasha," Robert interjected. "What person, man or woman, would want to tangle with you on the warpath?"

"Whatever," she went on, "Gabrielle, instead of totally rebelling became strangely passive. Oh, yes, she was hurting-her ass must have been bitterly burning by that time-but she was oddly submissive. Her cries turned to moans, the anguish not so distressing. Her whole body seemed to change as though she was absorbing the pain. Reminded me of that little tramp you rescued a few years back."

"You mean Penny?"

"Yes, Penny, where is she now?"

"She still lives on the island."

"Really. Still take her to bed?"

"Not recently. We've made other accommodations."

"Humm," was Sasha's response. Though intensely curious about the pair's "accommodations", she returned to the more important topic. "You do understand what I mean, by being a natural for this sort of thing?

"You think she was sexually aroused?"

"At the time, I really didn't care. But thinking back now, it's quite possible. And just as important was the way she changed so markedly when it was over. She was amazingly poised, I'd say supremely satisfied. She insisted that her boyfriend leave, and rather than come off the chair like an angry bear-believe me, we've fought like hellcats in the middle of the night on many occasions-this time she went to bed without any fight at all. And in the morning, she was up with me at eight o'clock."

"Did you question her?" Robert asked.

"No, I was a bit undone, though pleased by her mood. She said almost nothing to me, and was quite docile for a day. I know the reprimand and the spanking got inside her. Still, I've seen signs of her more typical behavior returning, though I wonder if she's not baiting me now to see if the spanking was just a fluke."

"Then why don't you simply keep her in check with a regular practice of getting spanked? Seems to me you could handle her with strict ground rules and the threat of stiff punishment. You're certainly woman enough to follow it through."

"Oh, Robert, I don't have the will for it, or even the time. And I'm not expecting you to supply this forever either-if that's what she requires. But I want her cured of her current mind set, at least set firmly on her feet. If she wants this treatment later on, she can seek it out from a lover. Right now she needs a good slap in the face. Going to the island where she can't escape will be just the thing to wake her up."

"You assume I'm going to spend the next few months on the island?"

"Won't you?"

He was obliged to snicker at the woman who was so deviously crafty getting her way.

"Does it really matter? I mean you're off and on all the time, I know that. And you have that other fellow, I forget his name. You can't tell me he doesn't have the same penchant for domination that you do."

"The only thing you haven't figured in this is my motivation. Why would I want to take on the discipline of an unruly brat who's hiding from the law?"

Sasha leaned back with her wine glass in hand and took a satisfying swallow. Her purpose was nearly won. "Because you like the challenge of a good game. You're addicted to women like my sister. You might even wonder if I raised her to be a project for you."

"You're stretching there, Sasha. Let's let that kind of speculation slide." He paused. "I'll consider your proposal, and get back to you in the morning."

She was sure of his answer, beyond any doubt. He would remember Gabrielle from the time of their marriage. Then, she was a gorgeous child of seven. With Robert Dante's powers of imagination, he would know this stunning creature would grow into a stunning young woman. And so she was at twenty-two, a breathtaking picture of innocent recklessness, refreshingly exhilarating to the eye-when she was without the crazy clothes and her odd make-up and kinky hair. He would tame all that Gabrielle was into the picture of a ravishing woman, contained, but smolderingly passionate. Her sister simply needed the guidance of an expert disciplinarian to effect the transformation, and rescue her from disaster. If he only knew the complete truth about her appalling crimes, he might refuse the job, but she wasn't about to tell him.

"The experience will not disappoint you, I promise. I may not be able to personally fulfill you, but I do know what does."

"Do you now? Sasha," he replied, raising his distinctive eyebrows and casting her his haughtiest glance.