The Dark Side of Eleanor Warwick
PRESSURE

The scraping of nylon assaults his ears like the thundering roar of a jet engine.

Hour upon hour upon hour of mindless scrubbing made his fingers numb. Each motion of the toothbrush takes enormous effort, as if it weighs hundreds of pounds. Every stroke grates his nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. The mindless repetition dulls his senses. His vision tunnels, blocking out everything else in the world.

Setting the brush aside, Jeremy turns the shiny black pump over in his hand. The sleek shimmer of the vinyl indicates a job well done. He carefully places the shoe alongside its twin. They in turn sit alongside a dozen pairs of similar shoes and boots. After a seemingly endless parade of footwear, he has finally completed his task. When a pair of thigh-high boots drop in front of him, he sighs and looks up.

Lisa glares down with a haughty expression that doesn’t suit her. Chestnut brown bangs frame a pretty, young face. A smug smirk curls the edge of her lips. Jeremy looks her over, frowning at the smart, dark blue pantsuit that is a symbol of her status. She doesn’t say anything. Jeremy knows why.

She’s growing into her station, becoming more comfortable with her authority. They both know he technically can’t speak to her unless he is spoken to first. It’s a rule he rarely enforced when he was in her position. Lisa will definitely pull the trigger if he speaks out of turn. He refuses to rise to the bait.

After a moment, Lisa gives up. “Here’s another pair for you.”

He scans the boots. “These are perfectly clean.”

She suddenly stomps on the boots. Jeremy cocks an eyebrow as she drives her foot down again and again, including one final two-footed hop. Brushing her bangs out of her face, she smiles brightly. “Not anymore.”

With a grumble, he scowls as he takes one of the boots and begins to put his toothbrush back to work. Lisa’s giggle burns in his ears. He can’t believe that after a few weeks, she is still the hostess of House Morneau and their Mistress’ number one. Effort and devotion have never been a problem for her, but Lisa is often absent-minded and clumsy.

He chalked up being replaced as a moment of emotional haste. Surely, Jeremy thought at the time, Mistress would realize he was the best choice to be her host after she calmed down.

Lisa walks along the row of finished shoes. She shakes her head in disappointment. “No, no. These are no good. You’ll have to do them all again.”

Dropping the boot he was working on, Jeremy glares at her. “Does Mistress know you’re using your authority to settle scores?”

Lisa shrugs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just making sure you do your job. Mistress deserves the best you can give.”

She makes for the door, practically skipping in giddy joy. There’s no way Jeremy is going to let her just walk away. “You’re going to fail, you know?” he says bitterly.

Lisa freezes and turns back to face him. “What?”

“You’re going to fail. It’s a miracle you haven’t already.”

For a moment, he thought she might just blow him off. She starts to scoff the comment away but pauses. Jeremy tries not to smirk. He’s known her for some time, and her confidence is always fragile. “I won’t fail,” she barks. “I’m doing great.” The remark is more for her benefit than his.

“You floor scrubbers looked at me and all you ever saw were the perks. The nice clothes. The secondary authority. Getting the most time with Mistress. But you never saw the pressure.”

“What pressure?”

Jeremy stares for a moment, trying to gauge whether she’s in denial, or just blissfully unaware. He gambles on the latter. “Before your promotion, how often were you punished for making a mistake?”

“A few times a week,” she answers with a forced shrug of fake casualness.

“And how often did you actually do something worth punishing, but you got away with it because Mistress didn’t catch you?”

She blinks. “A few times a day.”

“But Mistress knows everything you do now,” he continues, returning to his scrubbing. “She’s been patient. You are new, after all. But her expectations will rise. As will her scrutiny.” He pauses a moment to enjoy the sudden fear she isn’t savvy enough to keep off her face. “I give you another week. You’re a screw-up, Lisa. You have been since you walked in the door, and probably were before that.”

Lisa’s lip quivers in the face of his cocky smirk. The idea of blowing her chance to stay at her Mistress’ side terrifies her. He does have a point. Blowing things like this is certainly in her nature. As Jeremy chuckles, her fear is replaced with anger. She’s the hostess of her Mistress’ House. She can not allow herself to be treated this way by underlings.

“Shut up!” she shouts, instantly cursing herself for not coming up with anything better to say. “You’re just trying to get in my head!”

“Obviously.”

“I said shut up! Not another word!” Jeremy is more than happy to push her buttons, but won’t go so far as to ignore her authority. That would be as much a slight to his Mistress as to Lisa. He silently returns to his work.

Lisa awkwardly adjusts her jacket. “Enjoy re-cleaning all those shoes. Remember why you’re doing them; because I told you to.” She points at her head, locking eyes with him. “Commit this memory to…memory. Every single moment.” She backs away, glaring at him until she clumsily bumps into the door. Quickly composing herself, Lisa jabs a finger at him. “Except that! Forget that part!”

Jeremy only stares as she opens the door just enough for her to slip through. Pulling it quickly shut behind her, she falls against the heavy door. He rattled her, there’s no doubt. What’s worse is she let him know it. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” she groans, bouncing her head against the wood.

“Lisa?”

The hostess quickly straightens up and spins to another of House Morneau’s submissives, a tall, short-haired woman several years older than her. Lisa clears her throat and slicks back her hair. “Yes?”

The woman presents bottled mineral water and a towel. “I have- .”

“Oh, thank you,” Lisa says with gratitude. She accepts the cool water and takes a swig.

“That’s for Mistress.”

Lisa nearly spits the water out. She swallows awkwardly. “I know. I was…testing it…for poison.”

The sub raises an eyebrow. “Her workout is almost over. You’re supposed to- .”

Quickly snatching the towel, Lisa dashes down the hall. She knew what the woman was going to say. Mistress’ workout is at the same time every day. Her water and towel are presented when her exercise is complete. The second she steps off the treadmill, the drink and towel are supposed to be waiting.

The high heels Mistress insists she wears clacks on the marble floors as she flies through the House. Her sticking it to, and being mentally battered by, Jeremy distracted her from her duties.

Coming to a sudden halt in front of the double doors leading into the gym, Lisa catches her breath and calmly enters. Tall mirrors line one entire wall of the large room. Weights are racked near a seldom-used bench. The open area for aerobics and yoga and the treadmill are of more practical use to her Mistress. It’s the latter she is currently occupying.

It’s been close to a year since Lisa came to House Morneau, and yet she is still every bit as awed by Penelope Morneau as she was when she arrived. To the eye, she’s glorious; tall, and shapely, with burgundy hair and perfect skin. Everything Lisa isn’t, but desperately wishes she was. No one called Mistress Penelope Mouse in high school, Lisa bets.

Even more waits below the surface. She’s Dr. Penelope Morneau in psychological circles, with two doctorates and a laundry list of credentials and accomplishments on her resume. She’s a deep and complicated woman. One moment, as loving as your best friend. The next, as cruel as your worst enemy.

Relieved she made it on time, Lisa relaxes and watches her Mistress run in place. Her ponytail bobs about, sweat gleams on her skin, and buds rest in her ears. Lisa can tell she’s listening to an audiobook. Her sparkling emerald eyes occasionally narrow and her nose wrinkles as she mentally argues with the author. Lisa can’t help but let her gaze drift down to Penelope’s firm backside, hugged with dark spandex.

Her head jerks up once her Mistress stops and hops off the equipment. She plucks the buds from her ears and takes her pulse. When she turns to her hostess, Lisa silently offers the water and towel. “Thank you, Lisa,” she says with a voice still gathering its breath. Throwing the towel around her neck, she sips the mineral water. “Why were you late?”

Lisa’s dull brown eyes widen. “I…I wasn’t, Mistress.”

“You would have been if you hadn’t run.” Penny reaches out and runs a finger along Lisa’s forehead, just below her hairline. She holds the finger in front of the girl’s face, showing her the sweat.

“I…uh…”

“You were tormenting Jeremy again.”

“I was…,” knowing a lie would only make things worse, she hangs her head, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Explain,” Penny demands sharply.

Lisa chooses her words carefully. “I…I think he deserves everything he’s gotten, Mistress. He betrayed you. He’s lucky you didn’t kick him out.”

It’s true enough, Penny admits. Jeremy went behind her back and sabotaged her relationship with Eleanor Warwick, her friend and former lover. It was a misguided attempt to protect her, which was his only saving grace. Not to mention, Penelope’s petty attitude aided his actions.

“Very well,” she finally says, “but it ends now.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Pulling her hair out of its tail, Penny tousles it before taking a long chug of her water. As she drinks, her bosom draws Lisa’s eyes. A single droplet of sweat running down her Mistress’ neck and trickling into her cleavage captivates her. She would give anything to be that bead of water. Mistress clearing her throat made her look up suddenly. “I wasn’t!” she assures, slightly louder than is necessary.

Penny raises an eyebrow. “You clearly was.”

“No, Mistress! I wasn’t swearing, I stare! I mean, stare! I mean, I wasn’t staring, I swear!”

The Mistress smirks at the hostess’ nervous babbling, which she’s chosen to replace charming. “Why not? Don’t you like them?”

“No, no! Of course, I do! I love them! I mean- !”

“You love them?”

“I mean, they’re certainly better than mine! I’d do anything to your breasts! For! For your breasts! I’d do anything for your breasts!” Her face turns red, and Lisa buries it in her hands. “Oh, my God!”

Penny casually caps her water bottle. “You’d do anything to my breasts, huh? Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Mistress, can I please be excused now, please?”

“Absolutely not,” Penelope answers as she circles around behind her, ignoring the whimper from behind the girl’s hands. Pushing the door closed, Penelope steps up close behind her hostess. “You know me, Lisa. I notice things.”

Reaching over the shorter woman’s shoulders, Penelope takes Lisa’s wrists and pulls her hands down, placing them at her sides. Lisa takes deep breaths, trying to stay calm even as her Mistress’ touch causes her heart to race. “For example, I’ve noticed the desire in your eyes when you look at me. I’ve noticed the way you bite your lip when I undress in front of you.” She runs her hands down Lisa’s arms before they replace their way to her hips. “I’ve noticed the way you tremble whenever I touch you.”

Bringing her face in close, Penelope speaks softly into her ear. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be ashamed or embarrassed.” Her voice drops even quieter, becoming a whisper. “Tell me what you want?”

Lisa’s attempts to steady herself are a colossal failure. She keeps her arms to her side and gasps as Penelope’s hands roam over her body. She flinches when Penelope’s long, agile fingers cover her eyes and tilt her head back. “I…I…”

“Say it,” Penelope whispers.

“I want you,” Lisa forces out from a dry throat. Her voice cracks. Penelope could feel Lisa’s eyes watering beneath her hand. “I want you so bad it hurts, Mistress. You’re all I think about.”

“Shhh,” Penelope gently hushes.

Lisa ends her whimpering with a sniff.

“Doesn’t it feel better to get that out in the open?”

Lisa nods as best she can in her Mistress’ grasp.

“I’m glad. Because you will never have me.”

The chilling finality of her whisper causes Lisa to stiffen.

“Never. But that won’t stop the desire, the hunger. In fact, it will get worse. Your body will ache for me. You’ll replace no pleasure without me but will get none from me. You will spend the rest of your days pining for me. Being around me will be painful, but being away from me will be torture. In this way, you are mine forever. Body and soul.”

Lisa’s entire body trembles. She feels slightly lightheaded, and her heart thunders in her chest. Penelope’s lips curl into a wicked smile. “Now, be a good girl and run me a bath.”

When her Mistress’ hands flee her, Lisa blinks and gasps. She glances around the room as if she’s been hurdled through time. She spins, but her Mistress is gone and the door hangs open. Alone, Lisa staggers, catching herself on the rail of the treadmill. She crosses her legs as she tries to get a hold of herself.

Whether serious or just a mind game Mistress Penelope is playing, the effect is powerful. Just the thought of her urges regarding her Mistress actually getting stronger, despite being met with callous denial, is frightening. They already keep her up at night. Surely, with some time, she’ll be able to accept that her desires will go unfulfilled and move on.

Composing herself, she stands and heads out of the gym. Yes. Surely, she can move on. She just has to stay focused on her duties. Ignore her urges. Mistress wants a bath drawn. She will draw her a bath. Simple as that. Of course, Mistress will have to strip down. She can’t bathe in her clothes. That would be silly. And Mistress would likely want her to be ready with a towel when she comes out of the bath.

Naked. Dripping wet.

Lisa stops and falls against the doorway with a frustrated groan.

Mistress can indeed be cruel.