Imprints of Submission Ch. 01byVeronicaStone©
This is a continuation of the Prologue I already submitted for Imprints of Submission. I liked the feedback people gave me the last time and would like it again. Tell me what you liked, didn't like or even what you'd like to see happen in the future. The only thing I ask is that you make your critiques constructive. I think you will find this one to be a huge improvement.
By the way, there is no need to read the Prologue. I created it thinking I would need to create some background but it really is superfluous. It still has some interesting story lines in it though that you may enjoy.
Chapter 1 -- The Truth is Never Hard to Find, Sometimes
I've heard many people claim that after being married for a few years the spark dulls a little and the relationship becomes a routine just like the rest of life. I can't even count how many women have told me that their sex lives are boring, lackluster and virtually non-existent after just three to five years of marriage. I myself, however, have never felt that way about my husband. In fact I love fucking him and we've been married over five years. We have a great time together and love every little part of him.
That's not to say our relationship is perfect. He's got his flaws and I probably have some too although he's never dared to mentioned them. You see one of the reason's our relationship is so strong is my husband lacks any kind of fortitude that might give him the courage to take a stand on anything. This isn't just with me because I've watched him back down from absolutely anyone that's ever crossed him. In short, my husband is a wimp.
I discovered this in my relationship with Morgan almost immediately after we started dating. On very rare occasions over the years he has attempted to stand his ground on an issue that meant something to him. It usually takes him a few hours just to get his nerve up to confront me on an issue and I can see it coming as he becomes jumpy and distant with me as he focusses on how he's going to win the argument. When he finally does speak his mind, he can't even make eye contact with me and I shut him down almost effortlessly with a stern glare or raise my voice to sharply call out his name. The argument is over as his courage crumbles right in front of me. He'll then spend the next day or so sucking up to me as penance for his insolence. The irony is, I'm usually not even mad. In fact if I don't care about whatever has upset him, I'll give him his little victory. Otherwise though, I get my way and usually a boutique of flowers! I know I could simply boss him around from morning to night and treat him like garbage if I wanted to, but I don't. I'm not domineering towards him and I'm very good to him but I do insist on getting my way no matter what. It's really quite wonderful. Because I married a wimp of a man I do as I please without compromise. How many wives out there would absolutely love that?
We do have other issues though. He's very embarrassed by the amount of money I make relative to him. I earned over $25 million last year alone but Morgan can't even cover his own living expenses. It doesn't bother me in the least. I know I've been fortunate and, quite frankly, I keep telling him to quit his job and just enjoy life. I have more than enough to support him. He already depends on me financially anyway as there is no way he could possibly live as we do on his salary. Still, he insists on paying what he perceives to be his own way as he doesn't want our friends to think he's a kept man. It's kind of cute really and I guess it's his version of male pride, if that exists in him at all.
The reality is that Morgan is a kept man. I pay for the massive roof over our heads, all the food, the cars, the first class vacations, even most of the clothing on his back and I don't mind doing it at all. I don't love Morgan for his business prowess, his physical power or even his decision making skills. I just love who he is, an adorable little man who loves to cook, have fun and live in my shadow virtually all the time. He's a great guy really as his first focus is always me and he works so hard to make me happy. He cuddles with me at night and we talk for hours as I tell him what I'm doing at work and I listen as he tells me how he'd be so successful if he just ran his own restaurant. Unfortunately, part of who he is also includes being completely incompetent with his money, thinking ahead or even maintaining a focus on anything. I could easily purchase him a restaurant to run but I'd end up managing it because he is completely unreliable the moment anything requires him to multitask or plan. To be brutally honest, it's really no surprise that he hasn't moved on from waiting tables at a restaurant because that job alone challenges his capabilities. That being said, he's my guy and I love him dearly.
These two issues, though, collided with one another last week after I arrived home from work. Morgan was scheduled to work that night so I had only myself to entertain. I was actually looking really forward to it.
It felt so good to pull into the driveway know I had the place to myself. As I walked up to the front door my maid, Mabel, held the door open as I walked in, "Good evening Mrs. Bassenthwaite."
I never even acknowledged her presence and just handed her my purse, "Get me a glass of wine Mabel and bring it to me in my office. There's an open bottle in the fridge."
I inspected myself in the mirror of the foyer for a moment to check my makeup and outfit then headed to my office. I had worn a bright red pencil skirt, cut well above the knee that day, with a matching one button jacket over top of a V neck blouse that barely contained my cleavage and finished it off with a multi-diamond necklace that glistened around the base of my neck. Finally pair of 5" stiletto pumps with a small platform set the outfit off. It was a hot outfit and I loved it. I discovered years ago that when I walked into the office dressed to kill like that, everyone knew who was in charge and who needed to be obeyed. In hindsight, I think how I dressed sincerely contributed to my career success as I looked like the woman who was in charge that no one wanted to cross.
I sat down at my desk and quickly reviewed my email as I waited for Mabel to bring me my wine. My office was an enormous room that took up one wing of my plantation style home. It had an almost 600 square feet space right in the middle of it that was sunken three steps into the floor and was designed as a meeting area. A massive hard wood floor surrounded the perimeter of the room while the lower area was covered in marble tile to prevent the wood from overpowering the room. The walls were filled with a variety of art I had collected in the last five years with built in oak bookshelves at one corner that carried all my favorites. An oversized traditional gas fireplace filled a large space on the wall opposite to a series of large French doors that led out to a private patio. Two leather couches filled the middle of the room with a large coffee table between them and an oversized wing back chair at one end allowed me to run meetings in my home. At the far end of the room, a large highly polished L shaped oak desk sat overlooking the entire room with another swiveling wing back behind it. It spoke to anyone who walked into it that the woman occupying this room was a woman of power and prestige that should be treated accordingly. I absolutely loved my office.
When Mabel returned she held a service tray out with my glass on it, "Your wine, Ma'am," and stood beside me waiting for me to pick it up.
"Just put it on my desk Mabel," and pointed to my door as I read one of my emails about a meeting I had tomorrow, "Wait for me in the front foyer."
As was her own custom in my presence, she bowed slightly, "Yes, Mrs. Bassenthwaite," and left my office. Mabel had been the help in my house since I first started making a decent wage in my career. She was quite a small woman who never had any children and I don't think ever married. She was older, about forty, and barely had two pennies to rub together with certainly no money to retire on. Everyday she would walk to my home from the transit bus and arrive at 8am dressed in a plain grey dress and matching flat shoes. Her main duty was to clean my home but I would frequently give her other chores to complete as well, such as my grocery shopping, dry cleaning and other little tasks.
Truthfully I was always very firm with her. I paid her well, for a maid, and expected my house to be spotless by the end of her work day. When she didn't measure up, which was often as I held the bar very high, I would get cross with her and quite enjoyed making her work late, without pay, to deal with whatever I had displeased me. In fact, her inability to adequately clean my home was so frequent that she was forbidden from leaving my house until I had completed an inspection and given her my expressed permission to go home.
After making a couple of phone calls to arrange some plans for the weekend, I returned to the main foyer of my house and walked right past her, "Follow me Mabel," I ordered.
"Yes Mrs. Bassenthwaite."
In my 5" heels, I towered over this woman. Not only was she very short but she couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds. Even flat footed I looked massive compared to her. As I swaggered through the house, Mabel, silently followed behind me. She would jump every time I spoke; terrified I'm sure of what I had found. I always found something. Sure enough, when I reached my kitchen I found some dirty plates and a thin layer of crumbs on one of the counters. Mabel was permitted to eat whatever she pleased from my kitchen and she obviously had a sandwich for lunch but never cleaned up.
"What's this Mabel?" I pointed as I spun around to find her frozen in the entry way clearly horrified she had forgot to clean up after herself.
"I -- I'm sorry Mrs. Bassenthwaite, I had some lunch and I was so busy with the extra chores you gave me, I completely forgot," she stammered as her eyes darted everywhere except towards me.
The sound of my heels echoed through the kitchen as I sauntered up to her with my wine in hand until my breasts stood just inches from her head. The beauty of being tall is that it's so easy to invade another person's space simply by standing over them. "Mabel, do you like working for me?" I enquired as I studied the glass of wine I was holding above her head.
"Yes Mrs. Bassenthwaite, I do," she declared as she started rocking side to side from the anxiety I was creating.
I glared down at her and watched as she became increasing agitated, "Then why is it then that not a day goes by where I don't find something wrong with your work?"
"I -- I'm sorry Mrs. Bassenthwaite. I will try harder."
"Mabel I need to figure out what am I going to do with you," I announced before turning around to continue my inspection, "I want this taken care of before you leave tonight. Now come."
Mabel fell in behind and quietly followed me through the rest of the house where I found a litany of other problems. Floors that had not been scrubbed well enough, laundry not put away, shoes of mine that had not been cleaned and my make-up was still strewn across the counter in my dressing room from this morning. Each time I found a problem I became increasingly angry with her and raised my voice to send the message that I was not pleased. The pace of my step heightened as my heels clicked louder and louder while I barreled from room to room looking for her next screw up, "Mabel you'll be lucky if you get to go home at all tonight dear," I announced as I headed into Morgan's office with my maid trotting behind me as she tried to keep up.
"Yes Ma'am, I am sorry Ma'am."
Scanning his room I continued, "You work today wasn't not good enough Mabel. There's a part of me right now that says I should just fire you tonight and I am very much leaning that way."
I glared down at her and noticed that her eyes were welling with tears, "Yes Ma'am. Please don't. I need this job."
I put my glass down on Morgan's desk, crossed my arms and leaned back against his desk. "Then what should I do with you little lady?" Mabel started to cry. "You're a maid that's not doing your job. I'm not pleased Mabel. I expect this house to be spotless when I get home and it's not."
Mabel's face fell into her hands as she sobbed out right in front of me, "I'm sorry Mrs. Bassenthwaite. I do try Ma'am."
"Not hard enough Mabel."
"I'll work harder Ma'am," she pleaded with me.
I rolled my eyes and laughed gently as she sobbed. "You need this job badly don't you?'
"Yes Ma'am, I do. You pay me well and I need the benefit plan you give me."
I stood back up and grabbed her face with my hand to pull her just inches from mine, "I'm not happy Mabel, not at all. From now on I am adding two hours to your work day, every day, and they will be unpaid," I announced as I squeezed her cheeks together, "you will report to work at 6am sharp and remain here until I release you each day. Hopefully that way you can get your work done."
I could feel her whole body quake as I held her cheeks, "Yes, thank you Mrs. Bassenthwaite."
"This is your last chance Mabel," I solemnly warned, "piss me off once more and you'll be gone." I pulled her even closer and raised my voice, "Do you understand me Mabel?"
She was almost hyperventilating from how nervous I had made her, "Thank you Ma'am."
I wanted the house to myself tonight and decided Mabel could use this time to think about our little chat. "Now, go home tonight. Make sure you are in a clean, pressed uniform tomorrow and come back here at six ready to work.
"Yes Mrs. Bassenthwaite, thank you Ma'am," she whimpered as I released her face.
I leaned back on the desk, "Take my glass downstairs to the kitchen."
"Yes Ma'am, thank you. I will not disappoint you."
I turned away from her and waved the back of my hand to the door, "Dismissed."
Mabel rushed out the door and left me to enjoy my home in peace and solitude. I had to admit though, I enjoyed making Mabel cry. Call me cruel but I enjoyed being the Queen of castle and relished how she depended entirely on my grace to support herself. Of all my friends that have full time servants in their homes, I was the only one who paid my maid a fair wage with a full benefit package. I also did a host of other things for her. Last year, as an example, I flew her first class back to the west coast when her mother started failing and died. She was gone almost six weeks and I covered all of her expenses while she was there. So I think it's only fair that I should expect a solid effort from her when she cleans my home.
I stood up to walk out of Morgan's little office when I noticed a VISA bill sitting on his book shelf. I knew he had a VISA card but it looked different for some reason and I just had to see why. When I unfolded it, I discovered that it was a final notice requesting he pay off his balance of almost fifteen thousand dollars or it would go to collections. Instantly I wanted his ass home so I could tear a strip out of him for this. I'll gladly pay for anything he wants and he knows that. I couldn't figure out why he'd carry such a large balance. More than that, I wanted to know why he hadn't told me he was having a problem making his payments. It was the fact that he had clearly hid this from me that hurt more than anything else.
Our marriage had always been very upfront and honest. Although he couldn't take a stand against me, he knew he could talk to me about anything. I also knew he'd never lie to me and up until now, he had never hid a thing from me. The more I thought about it the more upset I became and I wanted to talk to him about it now, not when he finished his shift.
After pacing around the house for a bit, I decided I could probably clear my head with a work out. I got changed into bright orange and black Bodyglove workout bra and shorts with my runners and headed downstairs to my gym. The workout room had mirrors that filled every wall and had all the same equipment any commercial gym might provide. I loved my gym. Today was back and arm day which I absolutely loved doing and got to work on all my sets. The harder I worked, the more the anger brewing inside of me started to float away as I did rep after rep for the better part of two hours. I had been working out harder lately and I could physically see the results. My abs were as tight as they had ever been, my shoulders looked square and strong but not freaky, and I had a very nice triangle to my upper back that gave me a beautiful figure. I always knew I was attractive but right now, I looked incredible.
By the time I finished, my body was spent but I decided to vent off any lasting frustrations with a quick 5km run through the neighbourhood. I took off like a flash and never let up. My long strides make it almost impossible for people to keep up with me and I finished it in just 22 minutes. I get a kick out most men who just can't stop themselves from staring as I run by. I get it though. I'm five-ten, have an incredible rack that will catch any man's eye, and I have a rock hard body. Of course, my workout clothes leave little to their imagination. To top it off, I have an attractive face with green eyes and an almost flawless complexion, so I know I turn heads. The ironic thing though is that, men rarely ever have the courage to speak with me but I love how they all stare; until I look at them. Anyway, by the time I finished my workout, I was relaxed, felt refreshed and regenerated. I also knew exactly how I was going to manage Morgan!
I ran upstairs, had a quick shower and started to get dressed up. I slipped on a beautiful Victoria's Secret burgundy high slit maxi dress with a very low cut V in the front, a super low back and a slit that ran the length of the dress from the floor all the way to my waist with a pair of 6" triple ankle strapped stilettoes and a one inch platform that went beautifully with it. I had already had a French manicure that day so I added a little bling, redid my makeup and I was done. He'd have no idea what hit him because quite honestly, I could've modeled this outfit as one of Victoria's angels.
By the time I was done, it was 10pm. I placed the notice on my desk, read a couple of reports I had taken home with me to review and had a quick chat with a friend Morgan and I were going to dinner with next week.
Morgan pulled into the driveway at about ten to eleven as he got off a little early. I had never made an issue of it with him, but he insisted on owning his own car, a 2003 Escort that looked like shit in front of my house. I hated it but he wanted his own car. I already owned an Escalade, Porsche and an Audi but he only ever want to drive his little rust bucket. It was a pride thing I figured so I just let it be and kept my mouth shut. I could see him walking in through the garage and he was obviously worn out from his day as he shuffled into the house still dressed in his waiter's tuxedo.
He loved when I got dressed up though and I moved to intercept him in the kitchen. The full length of my legs flew out the slit in front with every step while my dress fluttered behind me. The slow, teasing double click of my heels resonated through the house and warned him I was on the prowl. Nothing gets a man more excited than the sound of high heels striking the floor as they come closer him and Morgan was no exception. He loved the sound heels made and I knew that alone would get him aroused.
Sure enough I was right because he had already perked up by the time I found him in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of milk. I never said a word but walked right up to him, grabbed his tie and pulled him up to my lips. He's so much smaller than me when I wear heels that I just about choked him as I stuck my tongue down his throat.