It had happened so quickly that, afterward, no one could be sure of who did what. Esther twisted out of the way of the rope – most likely a nervous reaction to Alexander's sudden movement – and kicked the lord in the shin. The shin is a delicate and painful place to be kicked and resulted in an almost crumpling reaction. He would have collapsed to the floor completely and the girl would have escaped except...

There was always an except somewhere.

She should have watched her hands more carefully. She shouldn't have lifted them to protect her face and neck because it was an unnecessary action and only caused her more problems. As she move away from the rope, it slipped around her wrists and pulled shut suddenly, catching her off guard and making her stumble forward. Esther did not fall, however, but instead unintentionally pulled Alexander back to his feet before he became completely helpless on the floor.

With a malicious smile, Alexander pulled the rope tighter around her wrist, eliciting a sharp cry. Leaning forward, he hissed, “Don't try that again or I'll do worse than whip you. I'm in charge now. Remember that.”

Esther writhed weakly but finally relaxed and nodded sadly. There really was nothing she could do. Any attempts of escape would only be met with violence and possibly a broken wrist or two from the rope. And there was always the possibility that he would break her bones, one-by-one, if she attempted an escape of any kind. It didn't take much to break one's fingers, after all. Just bend them back and apply a bit of extra pressure...

She dared not think of it.

Picking up his cane from where it had been dropped, Alexander jerked her into the room and scanned the area. A chair was located in a corner -lucky lucky! - and he quickly dragged her over. As she glanced toward the door, she saw the servant slip in like a dog with its tail between its legs. The butler clearly knew what was coming and wanted very badly to run away.

Stupid Hassen. Stupid, stupidly obedient Hassen. Was this enough proof of Alexander's demonic possession? Of did the butler require more?

It wasn't long before Hassen had tied her to the chair. Alexander watched carefully, a smirk dancing around the corners of his mouth, and a sudden bubbling rage welled up within Esther. How she wanted to kick him again, or hit him. Just wipe that smirk right off his face. But, alas, she could do little more than glower at him as he arms were tied behind the chair and then secured to the chair itself before her feet were separately tied to each of the front chair legs. The more she glared, it seemed, the bigger the lord's smirk became, like a child receiving a favorite toy for Christmas.

Once she was secured, Alexander was left with a single rope, and not a particularly long one, at that. He began picking at one end and several moments were spent in strained silence; each person waiting for the other to make a move. Finally, the end of the rope began to fray and Alexander spoke, softly, as though speaking to a disobedient child.

“Hassen,” he started and the servant stood straighter, “I think it's time we relearned the basics.” Hassen flinched involuntarily and seemed to shrink in on himself, despite never changing his position. “I am your master. I am in charge. I give the orders and you obey them. You don't listen to Miss Esther or Sir Drake or Edward.” The last name was spat out, as though it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't particularly dislike Edward or Drake, per say, but he noticed that Hassen was far too willing to spend time with them and follow their orders. This meant that the two possessed a quality similar to himself, which left his jealous. Hassen was his, dammit! No one else was allowed to push the poor man around but himself!

It was time for another of Hassen's “lessons”, it seemed.

There was another pause as Alexander continued to fray the rope. Once it had started, the end had come apart quite readily. Even the inanimate objects feared the lord, it seemed. He inspected the rope carefully and seemed satisfied with his work. Stepping back from Esther, he tapped his foot and said, “Come here, Hassen.”

“Yes, sir.” Hassen approached cautiously, suddenly unsure of what was to come. His eyes locked on the rope and he never noticed Alexander's frown deepen and obvious anger flash across the man's face. Despite watching for it, he still didn't catch it's sudden movement and was unprepared as it bit into his cheek. His head snapped back, more from the shock than the force of the rope connecting with him. The rope stung, of course, but it still wasn't as bad as a horse whip or a birch rod.

Once it had begun, there was no stopping the lashings. Again and again, the rope struck him, the frayed ends cutting into the exposed skin and leaving numerous small cuts. Over and over, and not once did Alexander say anything. Instead, his lips were pursed tightly and his eyes burned with rage and frustration.

“You listen to me!” Alexander shrieked suddenly.

Crack!

“You obey me!”

Crack!

“You do not leave me unless I say so!”

Crack!

“You do not think-”

Crack!

“-or act-”

Crack!

“-or speak-”

Crack!

“-until I tell you to!”

There was a series of cracks and Hassen was forced to the ground, holding his hands up to protect his neck and face. Despite the rope not cutting through his clothes, it still hurt and he knew there would be marks left behind. The rope stopped suddenly as Alexander stomped toward the door.

“JAMES!” he roared. The voice carried and anyone near the staircase or directly beneath the room would hear him. James should have been back by then with the desired birch rod. It would leave a better, longer lasting impression on his servant than the frayed rope. He glared back at Hassen who had risen to his knees, causing the servant to shrink back and curl protectively on the floor.