Her Atonement

Chapter 1

14 Months Ago

Alexander

I stare out of the car window and watch the city lights fly by a luminescent blur. I am in a city surrounded by eight and a half million people that never sleep. Yet somehow, for some reason, I feel all alone. I sigh and run my hand through my hair and prepare for yet another honor award lauded on me. I am accepting the Carnegie Medal of Honor for my fight against global hunger. If they only knew the real me, they never would be so keen to award me anything. But they don"t know the real me. Nobody does, except Elena. And I would like to keep it that way.

When the car door opens I will plaster a big smile on my face and shake countless hands exuding charm, wit, and confidence- what is expected of me. At 30, I have everything I have ever desired since I was a scared, abused four-year-old little boy weeping at his mother"s rotting corpse. More money than Croesus, more power than the president, and more respect than the Pope, but at the same time I have nothing. My mind drifts back six months ago and I cringe at the memory.

"Leila, please put the gun down so we can help you," I pled desperately.

"Alone," she whispers, haunting me with her expression. She"s staring at me fiercely from her kneeling position on the kitchen floor of my apartment. "I am all alone. A life without love is no life at all. But you will never understand that."

I see Taylor pointing his gun at her and I gesture him to stand down but he pointedly refuses. It angers me. Guns are not going to solve anything. Sawyer has silently escorted a shaking Gail out of harm"s way and is calling Flynn.

"Leila, please, you have so much to live for! You will find love again, just- please Leila, let me help you," I begged again.

Leila lets out a humourless cackle that makes my blood run cold.

"You know nothing about love, you never have! I love you Alexander, but you dropped me like a rock the moment I told you. I thought it was the end of me until Craig came into my life. You have no clue what it is like to wake up to next to another person knowing that your lives are so intertwined that your world begins and ends with them. And now he is gone," she spat out venomously and her words hurt more than I am willing to admit, because deep down I know she is right. I died when the c***k w***e died. I am nothing but an empty shell.

"In the end, we die all alone, but at least I will be with Craig forever, while you will forever be a living, dead man. Please for your sake learn to love Alexander," she said giving me a sad smile.

"Mrs. Williams put the gun down or I will shoot you," Taylor said authoritatively while pointing his gun at her.

Leila stares at me grief, pain, and sadness were etched on her face.

"You can"t kill someone who is already dead. And just like me, he is already dead,"she says, her voice laced with pain. "Craig is waiting for me now.Goodbye Alexander."

Leila had put the gun in her mouth and I heard myself scream. "NO!"

A deafening bang echoed through my apartment. I felt something warm and wet dripping on my shirt and face. The smell of brimstone and iron penetrated my nose and I couldn't breathe no matter how hard I tried, there was never enough air to fill my lungs.

It has been six months since Leila killed herself in my apartment and it is hard for me to be there. The memories of that horrific night are still haunting me and it has become impossible for me to sleep without aid. Every time I close my eyes I see her laying lifelessly on the floor, with her brains splattered all over my kitchen. On really bad days, those images merge with the images of the c***k w***e in a cacophony of mental pain. Two bodies, two ghosts dance behind my eyes, scaring me, making sleep impossible. I am a useless, empty shell of a man who was too incompetent to save his own birthmother and an ex-submissive. I am a monster that destroys women- it is a simple fact.

When the press got wind of what happened, a media frenzy ensued. Thankfully my lawyers and publicists mAbyged to contain the story, no sordid details of my relationship with Leila came to light. The story was that a mentally unstable ex-girlfriend committed suicide in my apartment after I refused to take her back.

I tried to move on with my life after what happened with Leila. Elena told me to get right back on the saddle as soon as possible. She even had numerous subs lined up for me. I tried them all but I did not get the same fulfilment from the experiences. Even before Leila killed herself, I wasn't getting what I needed from doing scenes anymore. Leila was right. I am a living dead man.

The car stops in front of the New York Public Library where the ceremony is held. The large broken white neoclassical building stands proudly on 5th Avenue. The large Corinthian pillars give the building a strong and unwavering look. It is truly a work of art. The car door opens.

"Showtime," I murmur under my breath and plaster the familiar smile on my face.

The camera flashes are blinding and reporters begin to shout an endless number of questions.

"Mr. Garstaires, have you recovered from the suicide of your ex-girlfriend?" I inwardly cringe at the question and ignore the vulture from some sleazy national rag who is standing near my car.

I walked up the red carpet where the invited reporters and photographers were milling about.

"Mr. Garstaires! Pose for a picture please." I plaster another smile on my face and countless flashes go off.

"Mr. Garstaires congratulations on winning a Carnegie medal. What are your thoughts on the Ethiopian drought and famine? Do you agree with USAID"s assessment that the Ethiopian government did too little since 1984 to prevent another famine?" a stocky New York Times reporter with short dark hair and black rim horned glasses asked. I find it an interesting question. The only thing that is still holding my interest is my fight against hunger and poverty.

Taylor, Ryan, and Sawyer, my trusted security guys, try to escort me through the crowd but I stop them. My publicist, Carol Jackson, told me it would be good for my public image if I took the time to answer some questions and this question is worth answering.

I turn my attention him and gave him a tight smile.

"El Niño is a predictable natural phenomenon the Ethiopian government should have invested more in drought resistant crops and irrigation systems. In that respect the director of USAID is right. But that does not matter for the people that are affected by hunger and drought at this moment. It is our responsibility as human beings to help those in need. Arguing about who is guilty of what is not going to help those in need. In the long run, however, these investments need to be done, and GEH is committed to providing technological and agriculture help to the regions affected by the drought in West Africa," I replied with my usual air of confidence.

The reporter wants to ask me some more questions, but I have no time to answer more. I thank him for his interest and continue my way inside the public library flanked by Sawyer and Taylor.

"Mr. Garstaires!" an immaculately dressed woman on very high heels comes running to me and I am almost afraid she will trip. She gave me a come hither smile and her green eyes lighted up seductively. I have to suppress the urge to roll my eyes this woman has no clue she is flirting with the devil.

"I am Linda McKay of the Carnegie Corporation. I hope Mr. Thomson already explained what to expect of this evening," she said in one breath while shaking my hand profusely.

I pulled back my hand and nodded at her.

"He did," I confirmed.

"Good," she purred leading me to the science, industry and business library where the ceremony is taking place.

My parents, Elliot, and Mia are already present and they won"t stop showering me with praise. It makes me feel uncomfortable because I am not the man they think I am. I spend the next 30 minutes before dinner and the beginning of the ceremony shaking hands with the other nominees and New York"s elite, playing my role as shrewd businessman and virtuous philanthropist.

When it is time for the first courses to be served, I am escorted to the table I share with my family and other important figures. Most of them hope to gain a favour from me. I use my usual wit and charm and the conversation at the table ebbs and flows. If there is one thing I have learned from the past decade is that it is important to hold on to valuable contacts. favours are the number one currency exchanged between the elite and I am the master in this game of give an take.

The MC - some presenter from a popular news show - starts the ceremony. After some introductory words and light banter, he calls on the stage the first medallist. Dr. Jeffery Brandt is a famous biologist and environmentalist with an unwavering dedication to protecting fragile ecosystems and the native animals and people that life in them. GEH is currently funding some of his research. His speech is short funny and to the point. After he is done the MC thanks him before introducing me.

"Our next medallist is the youngest person to have ever received the Carnegie medal of Philanthropy. Just like Andrew Carnegie, Mr. Garstaires believes the rich are mere trustees of their wealth and have the moral obligation to promote the welfare and happiness of others. His Garstaires Foundation is dedicated to eradicating hunger, and poverty by promoting education and protecting the environment for future generations. It is my honour to present this medal to Mr. Alexander Garstaires."

There is a loud applause in the room and I am called to the stage to receive my medal and give my acceptance speech.

I stand behind the glass stand take a deep breath. Here we go again.

"I have given a lot of speeches in my life but I can honestly say that I have never given one in a library. I am pretty sure that Mrs. Andrews the Liberian at Harvard Baker library would have kicked me out immediately if I tried this in her sanctuary." The audience laughed and I smiled before continuing my speech. "The fight against eradicating hunger and poverty is a personal one for me. I own everything I have to my adoptive parent's Grace and Carrick Garstaires who I would like to take a moment to thank for their love and support. Just like Andrew Carnegie, I come from very humble beginnings and know what it is like to go to bed hungry every night. And just like Andrew Carnegie I was given the opportunity to make something of myself.

At this moment more than 3 billion people In Africa, Latin-America and some parts of Asia have to make ends meet with less than 2 dollars 30 cents a day. And more than 1.3 billion people, including 850 million children, live in abject poverty. Agricultural dysfunction is rife within these parts of the world and the result is ecological and social destruction. The people affected by this often fall victim to preventable diseases like Malaria and Pneumonia. These diseases kill without discrimination ripping whole families apart. Trapping people in an endless cycle of hunger, poverty, and disease.

By eradicating hunger we can destroy that cycle and end poverty. I am accepting this award tonight in honour of all the people that fell victim to hunger and poverty. I am not only humbled but also profoundly grateful that the selfless work of many Garstaires foundation employees and beneficiaries has been recognized. This award belongs to them more then it belongs to me. The great Andrew Carnegie once said Wealth is not to feed our egos but to feed the hungry and to help people help themselves. I leave you now with these parting words of wisdom. Thank you all."

I ended my speech and got a thunderous applause from the audience. For these people, I am a boy wonder, a paragon of humanity, a part I have been playing for so long now it has become a part of me. If they only knew the monster that is residing inside me they would think twice about honouring me.

After the ceremony is done I make up some excuse about work so I can go back to my apartment. I will fly back to Seattle in two days but first I have some business to take care of at GEH New York. My mother reminds me of Sunday dinner and I kiss her farewell. They are staying at the Four Seasons, and will fly back tomorrow with one of my private jets.

When I get back to my apartment I pour myself a glass of Scotch and sit down on the large couch standing in the living room.

"Mr. Garstaires there is a young lady coming upstairs for you. Mrs. Lincoln has sent her, sir."

I contemplate sending her away but it has been two months since I last got laid. Maybe this little sub can snap me out of my ennui.

"Let her in," I grumbled and Taylor nodded in acquiescence.

Moments later a petite brunette stands in front of me with her head bowed in a perfect submissive position.

"Look at me." I command and her head snaps up.

She is beautiful, they all are. She has soft soulful brown eyes, luscious lips, and a well-formed nose, but she does nothing keep the cold dark void swirling inside me at bay. It does not matter though, as long as she can fill my psychical needs and free me from my ennui she will do.

"Tell me your name." I commanded her again.

"Gwen Becker, Sir." She says with a soft voice.

"Tell me why you are here Miss Becker."

"Mistress Elena sent me to you, Sir, to congratulate you for winning the Carnegie medal. I am here to please you, Sir."

"Get on your knees." I told her and she immediately obliged. I walked around her absorbing every inch of her well-formed body. Normally my libido would have spiked, but now it remains dormant. It frustrates me to to no end. It has been months since the last time I f****d but my c**k does not seem to care. f**k!

I know I need to amp up the scene. I don't have a playroom here so I need to improvise. But first, this girl needs to sign an NDA. Elena probably already had her vetted and made her sign one, but I don't care, you can never be too safe. And since that debacle with Leila, I do not really trust Elena's judgment anymore. There is no need for a contract. I have no use for a long-term sub now.

"Wait here." I tell her before walking to my office to fetch an NDA specifically for this purpose.

"Sign this." I growl and throw the NDA and a pen in front of her. She complies without question it still baffles me that people can sign contracts without reading them first.

"Strip and put your hands behind your head when you are done." I say tiredly.

Once she is done, I instruct her to go to the couch and lay flat on her stomach. I bind her hands to her feet with some filament rope I found in my office. She is tussled up like a Christmas Turkey. Yet my c**k remains dormant. She squirms uncomfortably and tells me that her hands are bound too tight. I am furious that she spoke without permission and that she had the nerve to complain about my bindings. I don't know where this anger is coming from but I cannot contain it. It feels like I am losing control over every part of my life.

"You know how many women would love to be in your position?" I rage.

"Many, Sir." She squeaks out.

"Countless, and none of them would complain about the bindings. Either you scream red now and get the f**k out of here or take what I am going to do to you. What is it going to be?" I bark.

"Stay, Sir." She says timidly.

"Good." I say. I release my belt from my pants, aim it at her butt and slam it down with all my might. She yelps loudly.

"Quiet!" I bark.

I aim the belt again and hit her again on her ass. Small welts begin to form but she stays quiet this time. I hit her again and again and again hoping to evoke my libido again but nothing happens. Her ass is no longer pink but red and angry welts have formed on her back and butt.

"God damn it!" I yelled and released my c**k from my trousers squeezing and jerking it but I cannot get it up. Images from the c***k w***e and Leila blend in my mind. I slam the belt down harder with each blow on the back of the sub while furiously stroking my c**k, trying to erase the haunting images from my mind. My traitorous d**k remains limp, proving once and for all that I am a useless, pathetic and incompetent little man that can't even get his d**k up. Anger and sadness fill me I stumble backwards and I drop the belt I was holding.

I release Miss Becker from her bindings and provide the necessary aftercare before sending her away. For the first time in my adult life, I am at a complete loss and have no idea what to do with myself.

Rage, an uncontrollable rage washes over me, and a red haze settles over my eyes. I need to break something, I need to destroy something. I start throwing and smashing everything in my path until there is nothing left anymore. The apartment is empty just like me. I fall to the ground and let the pain and despair pull me into a dark empty void. Leila was right. I am already dead.

I stare pensively through the large window of Flynn's office. A couple of wrens have nested in the large maple tree that is standing near the window. It has been over a month since I last saw Flynn.

I don't have to look behind me to know that he is staring at me over the rim of his glasses with a pencil in his mouth. I also know what he will say if I remain silent for a moment longer. These sessions with him have become predictable, just like the ennui that has enveloped me.

"Alexander, I am more than happy to take your money even if you are just staring out of my window. But I don't think that is what you came here for." He says just like I predicted. I sigh and turn around to face him.

"No, that was not what I came here for."

"I suppose I should congratulate you on winning the Carnegie medal of Philanthropy."

I shrug.

"Just another notch on my belt. Not that it matters. Nothing really matters anymore."

Flynn looks at me slightly alarmed. "Why do you say that Alexander?"

"After the ceremony, I went back to my New York apartment because I just needed to be alone. But Elena had ordered a sub for me as a present and it has been a while since I had i*********e. The girl was beautiful Flynn, and I was really hoping that she could break to malaise and give me some relief." I sit down on the large green leather couch and put my head in my hands.

"What happened Alexander?"

"I ordered her to strip I tied her up and beat the crap out of her with my belt, but I couldn't get aroused from it. What is wrong with me?" I whisper the last part embarrassedly.

Flynn, like always, never judges me. He stares at me intently and clears his throat.

"Did you find the woman attractive?"

"Yes, of course." I reply impatiently.

"Then why do you think you did not get aroused by her?"

"I don't know. I pay you a small fortune to find out." I snap angrily at him.

"Alexander, I cannot read your mind. I can only interpret the things you tell me, to form an opinion. Only you know the real answer to that question." Flynn responds calmly.

"Let me ask you two more questions." Flynn continues.

"Did binding her excite you?"

The question itself does not shock me but the answer to that question does, and I feel momentarily stunned.

"Not like it used to excite me." I finally murmur.

"Did beating her excite you?" Flynn asks again.

Just like the first question, the answer to this one is equally shocking. I gulp and stare at Flynn.

"I did not feel much when I was hitting her. It is something I just always do, a habit that is kind of hard to break. But it did not really excite or arouse me. Not like it used to."

"Alexander, do you want to hear my hypothesis?"

"Yes, that is what I am paying you for." I reply gruffly.

"We both know that s******g little brown haired girls are your way of punishing your birthmother. Even though you refuse to admit it, you had a strong emotional bond with your birth mother. In spite of what you say or think, you loved her and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Children are brought into this world programmed to love their parents. Punishing random brown haired girls to punish your mother is your way of dealing with the pain she has inflicted on you. However, as expected, this coping mechanism is breaking down rapidly. Most likely triggered by Leila's dramatic suicide. You have had zero emotional connection to the girls you had arrangements with. They were merely interchangeable surrogates of your mother. There is nothing wrong with b**m. In fact, it is a very healthy outlet for some people. But a healthy b**m relation requires deep trust and an emotional connection between two consensual partners. You never had that. You are suffering from a form of depression and the root cause of that is your birth mother. In order for you to really deal with all your issues you need to confront your past, and your feelings for your birth mother. By dealing with the guilt you feel over her death, you subsequently learn to deal with your feelings of guilt over Leila's death. It is time for you to lay her ghost to rest Alexander, only then you can move forward to where you want to be."

"This speech about the c***k w***e is getting old. She died 26 years ago on a dirty apartment floor leaving me to fend for myself. I don't love her, I never have so stop saying that." I barked.

Flynn holds his hands up in mock defeat. "You wanted to hear my hypothesis Alexander. I merely gave my interpretation of what you just told me. Our time is almost up. But I want to ask you one more question. A question you can mull over at home. If your birth mother has nothing to do with your current issues then why do you keep calling her a c***k w***e?"

I stare at him for a moment trying to come up with an answer but nothing comes to mind. He smiles at me. "Save your answer for next time, Alexander, see you next week."