Page 19 of Her Submission (Monica & Henry #2)

Madams and Misers

As much as Monica wished she could turn over all operations of the Chateau to Judith and the others, she had to return at some point after securing Abigail’s safety. And as much as she wished she could listen to everyone’s advice, she was not yet at a point where she could let Abigail out of her sight except to go to school. So to the Chateau they both went two weeks later.

“I’ve got a really big night tonight, sweetie.”

Monica sat before her vanity, screwing in her earrings while Abigail danced around in her leotard and T-shirt.

“Promise me you won’t leave this room tonight or without me, okay? Matilda knows you can’t be running around the house during business hours.”

The nanny was currently in the adjacent office, picking up some of Abigail’s toys that had been strewn around there after she had constructed an elaborate castle beneath her mother’s desk. At least she has a healthy imagination. Regulating her daughter’s screen time had paid off.

Speaking of…

“Can we watch a movie tonight?”

Monica got up from her stool.

“Of course. After you’re done with your homework, Matilda knows you can watch whatever you want.”

Within reason. But with kids like Abigail, it was best to dance around caveats.

“No, I mean with you.”

She hesitated in her bathroom doorway.

“Oh? I don’t know how late I’ll be working, sweetie. But if you’re still up when I’m done… maybe.”

Abigail plopped onto the bed.

“Okay. Can I go outside? I’ll take Matilda.”

“Honey, no, what did I just say?”

Monica hoped the panic wasn’t evident in her voice.

“You can’t leave the apartment while I’m working. Or without my supervision.”

“But we’d go outside!”

“It’s dusk. It’ll be dark in ten minutes.”

Abigail puffed out her cheeks and fell onto her side. “Fine.”

“You’re bored, aren’t you?”

“Kinda. You’re always gone so long.”

Monica’s demeanor softened.

“I remember when you used to come here when you were really little.”

While that was only a couple of years ago for Monica, it probably felt like a lifetime ago for someone as young as Abigail.

“You would be asleep when I left, and still asleep when I got back. Matilda used to read books and work on her laptop while waiting for me to get back.”

The nanny had her own simple room down the hall where she could have privacy and crash during her off hours. And Monica was grateful that there was a room she could convert so close to her apartment, because the last thing Matilda wanted was being propositioned by lost guests, and the last thing Monica wanted was the nanny being propositioned by lost guests.

“I don’t wanna go to bed,”

Abigail protested as she hopped up.

“Are you gonna be late?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. Your mom’s hosting a party for some important guests tonight and it will depend on when they want to go to bed.”

“You mean have sex with people.”

Monica held back the gasp circling the drain of her throat.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I know what happens here. I’m not a baby.”

“You’re seven.”

“So not a baby!”

“Goodness. Wherever did you hear about something like that?”

Was it school? Something she saw on TV? Monica and Henry couldn’t always track what their daughter watched with Matilda and Auntie Eva, who often fell asleep on the couch and gave Abigail the remote.

“You’re much too young to know about sex.”

“Why? You and Daddy did it to get me, right?”

“Okay, where did you hear about this? We haven’t had this talk.”

“I know where babies come from! They come from the moms, who had sex with the dads so their genetics could combine!”

Monica had to mentally back up to deal with this while also realizing what time it was. The guests will be here any moment… They would expect her to greet them. See to their needs for drinks and snacks. Those who didn’t have a woman in mind for the night must be introduced to someone needing work. Wait, who exactly was coming? A bigshot patron and many of his friends. Shit.

I think she wants me to think that she knows more than the reality. Monica gritted her teeth before sitting on the bed so her head was closer to her daughter’s.

“And what’s sex?”

“You know…”

Blushing from her found-out ignorance, Abigail turned around with a pout.

“When they love each other a lot. Kissing!”

Monica let out a small sigh of relief. Kissing isn’t always required… No, Abigail was too young to hear that! Let her keep thinking that babies were made from kissing. It would make for a funny story later when she had long learned the real truth at a more age-appropriate time. Which will be tomorrow at this rate.

Matilda popped out of the office with something in her hand.

“Look what I found! A hundred-piece puzzle. I think all the pieces are even here. How about we take a crack at it while watching a movie tonight?”

She shook the box and its rattling contents at Abigail.

That was Monica’s cue to get out of there. She kissed the top of Abigail’s head and said.

“Make sure it’s Rated G,”

to the nanny.

She was still shaken when she left her apartment and intercepted the arriving party in the main hall. The doorman had his work cut out for him when he announced five names in a row, all at a powerful clip that almost gave Monica a migraine. She was relieved to see that Judith was already way ahead of her, planting a kiss on the tallest man in the group and welcoming his friends.

“Mr. Bolivar.”

Monica waited for the man to bend down so she could lift herself on her tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

“So good to see you again so soon.”

The large Monegasque man with silver in his beard and that eternal Spanish accent in his voice greeted her with a laugh and proceeded to introduce him to his European friends who were in town for a big conference in North America.

“I couldn’t wait to invite them where I met my sweet Judy.”

His arm was always wrapped around his girlfriend, who happily grinned at him as if she also hadn’t seen him in a long while.

Is that how I look with Henry? Judith and Miguel Bolivar had been together for almost as long as Monica and Henry, but their constant long-distance lives meant that they sometimes went a couple of months without physical touch.

The only reason Judith doesn’t complain about it all the time is because she has another boyfriend in this arrangement.

A local retired doctor who now spent his days traveling the country for his art shows, many of which featured Judith in erotically nude poses.

We have a print of her posing as Eve in the Garden of Eden in the middle of the Salon.

Monica had to wonder exactly what kind of daughter she’d eventually raise.

The party was held in an upstairs lounge that could easily accommodate a dozen people. Since there were no other appointments that night, Monica put everyone to work. Not just the maids and the cook in the kitchen, but her other employees who ran the gamut o.

“spoken for but still living here”

an.

“full-service sex worker.”

Employees like Madison now lived in the city and oversaw Le Salon full time, but there were others, like Savannah and Cate, who were always sniffing the blood-infested waters for fresh meat.

They were the first in the room, arm-in-arm in their expensive but revealing dresses and making it very clear that they were in dire need of companionship that night.

The way these parties worked? The point of contact, Miguel, kept an open tab for all drinks an.

“other services”

that the girls sent their charges to.

Miguel would settle the tab, either by paying for everyone’s fun himself or collecting in some other way.

This is the exact kind of thing the IRS is investigating.

For all Monica knew, one of these men with a French or Austrian accent was actually an undercover agent ready to expose her.

But since she found out about the audit, she had been extra careful about payments rendered for “other”

services.

Nobody directly paid for sex.

Not if they wanted to come back again.

Monica was careful.

She had always been careful.

Not only did she do everything within the law to the best of her ability, anything slightly askew was paid off under the table to the correct people.

But the Chateau had survived more than one raid with nary an arrest.

Will we be so lucky next time?

Normally, Monica melted into sweet relaxation once she was in her element. Hosting – let alone parties like these – was part of her soul. They spoke to her submissive yet powerful nature that wanted to ensure everyone had a wonderful time. She was a natural and educated conversationalist who could charm any dominant type and relate to any submissive. Male, female, in-between, or neither… it didn’t matter. Monica’s soul attached to people’s deeper nature. With her own desires and sex life she skewed only one way, but here?

She could make any of these men think she was the queen of the court. And she was.

Usually.

“We have been dying to come since we first heard about this place. Many, many years ago.”

A man nearly as large as Miguel but sporting a French accent lifted his drink to Monica when she came by to check on him and his friend on a loveseat.

“Miguel always says it is the place to meet the best American women. Everyone is so beautiful. The girls in Paris could learn something from…”

His gaze was askew toward Savannah, who bent over a chair and kicked her heel up in the air as she showed off how easy it was to clutch a wineglass full of liquid between her thighs.

“Such talent.”

“Yes, I couldn’t help but notice you two gentlemen were alone over here. Is that by choice, or should I introduce you to one of our many lovely young ladies who are here tonight?”

They were more than happy to meet someone, and that happened to be a woman named Tiff, who was pulled away from the other gathering to entertain the French gentlemen on the loveseat. She squeezed herself between them, commenting on their broad shoulders and excellent taste in liquor.

That’s taken care of. Monica scanned the room for any other guest in need of companionship. I’ve got five women on the payroll tonight, so where is my missing one? Somebody should be helping Tiff. But with Judith with her boyfriend and Savannah and Cate entertaining the other two men…

She finally found Ursula beneath the coffee table, searching for her contact. Before Monica could say anything, Judith pointed out that Ursula had the foresight to hike her dress over her very bare ass. Monica saw things up close that she didn’t know existed. Like Ursula’s Pinocchio tattoo right next to her waxed labia.

“It is never a dull moment here,”

Miguel said to her.

“But let me guess… my Judy found this one.”

He gestured to Ursula, who waved her ass back and forth as she announced she had finally found her missing contact.

“It has her tastes all over that culo.”

Monica took a break after the party was going all on its own. The clothes were coming off and the games had started, centering on Savannah and Ursula using a weighted quarter to constantly “lose”

a bet that they wouldn’t have to kiss in front of the guests. Judith was still sober enough to take care of any problems, so that was Monica’s cue to step out onto the balcony overlooking the shrubbery in the backyard.

Night had fallen, but the sky was clear enough and the moon more than full enough to illuminate the fountain positioned in the small entrance of the labyrinth, where two employees off for the evening wandered with their headphones on. Eventually, they would make their way to their studio apartments built on the edge of the property, hidden by a grove of tall trees.

She was tempted to call her husband back in the city. She almost went up to her apartment to check in on Abigail and Matilda. Maybe help them put that puzzle together. No. She had to stop giving in to her paranoia that something would happen, let alone here.

Something gnawed at her, though. Something that went deeper than recent events, or Abigail attempting to assert authority because she wanted her mother to stay behind. It was even deeper than her nightly yearning to hear from Henry even after all these years together.

She still thought about Jackson and how close he had come to touching her again.

Monica rubbed her hand against her chest, attempting to loosen the tightening muscles surrounding her heart. They want to protect it, but can they? The only thing more painful than having to explain Isabella’s behavior to Abigail one day was having to divulge her history with Jackson. It was something Abigail deserved to know about her mother. One day. Long from now. When she’s grown up and dating… Monica couldn’t even think about that. She was still winded by the thought of her daughter thinking she knew what sex was.

As she braced herself against the balcony railing, she thought of something else she’d have to explain to her daughter one day. Who I really am.

Monica couldn’t hide it from anyone mature enough to grasp it. Perfect strangers picked up on who she was after talking to her for five minutes. Her own daughter? Let alone when she started having her own experiences as an adult?

She would have questions. She would have heard things from her nosy friends. The Abigail of today was much too young to pick up on things Monica kept private, but one day…

Monica would have to explain that she was submissive. In all areas of life, not just sex.

But who wanted to hear that about their mother? And what if Monica’s real self ended up being a terrible influence on her daughter? What if she gets the wrong idea? What if she thinks I’m weak? A poor excuse for a modern woman?

What if Abigail was taken advantage of because of who her mother was?

While laughter filtered out to where she stood, Monica inhaled a deep breath of the fresh air in a vapid attempt to clear her mind. It didn’t work.

What if this is all my fault? What if a part of what Isabella said was right? That Monica was never the right fit for this family?

What if Abigail’s upbringing was better left to someone else? Someone normal?

What if I’m not normal enough for this life? And what if it brought Abigail down?

Monica took longer to get back to the party than she would have liked. Her mind kept her frozen where she stood on the balcony, staring into the empty sea of stars and wondering if the problem was her, after all.

“You’ve been so quiet lately.”

Monica was barely moved by her husband’s voice. She lay in bed, slowly applying her moisturizer while going over business that past weekend. Although she had been home for a couple of days and Henry had been attempting to woo her with his usual flirtations, Monica kept to herself, blaming her need to catch up on work since the Salon was still enduring renovations.

Eventually, he would call her out on it.

“Is everything okay, Princess?”

He was in his pajamas, halfway beneath the covers and gazing up at her with every hint of attention in his being. Monica should have swooned. Instead, she pretended that reading the ingredients of her moisturizer was more important. After all, Abigail might be plagued with the same dry skin as her one day, and she could also be allergic to one of the ingredients.

“Everything’s fine,”

she eventually said.

“Just thinking. A lot on my mind. Like your mother. And business. The IRS.”

“Yes. My mother.”

Henry rolled onto his back, hands behind his head as he stared up at their bedroom ceiling.

“Flown back to Montana with an ankle monitor.”

The corner of Monica’s mouth twitched into a smile.

“Looked good on her.”

“I don’t think I had ever seen Eva cry with tears of happiness. Regarding our mother, anyway. At least we don’t have to worry about her for a while.”

“You mean your mother.”

Henry grunted, leg kicking over the covers as his toes wiggled atop the blanket.

“Thank goodness. Just one less thing for us to fret about.”

Every time Monica tried to think about Isabella, her mind drew a blank. Oh, I remember her just fine. But something was blocking her ability to focus on the woman who attempted to ruin her life. Could it have been the other things on her mind?

“You sure everything is okay?”

Monica placed her bottle on the nightstand instead of in the top drawer where it normally went.

“I’m fine. Hoping Abigail is fine. The child therapist said she doesn’t exhibit any signs of trauma, but who knows long term. I feel…”

She sighed.

“Guilty, somehow.”

“Guilty why?”

“Like if I hadn’t been so much myself… none of this would have ever happened.”

There were those thoughts again. Although the TV played the usual screensaver when they didn’t watch something for too long, she wasn’t distracted. Instead, Monica picked a corner of the large bedroom and fantasized about…

About what? Her being punished? Isabella being punished? Jackson being punished?

“Princess.”

Henry startled her by rubbing her thigh beneath the covers. As his fingers toyed with the bottom of her nightgown, tenderly teasing her skin, she realized she felt nothing. Not a lick of attraction or desire. Yet here her husband was, attempting to arouse her in one of his favorite ways. God, no wonder. He pitched half a tent in his pajama pants.

Normally, Monica would only say no if she was too tired or didn’t feel well. After all, Henry was her Dom. If he yearned to be intimate with her, she wasn’t wont to say no. And it’s been a long while since we really let go. They only made love once since returning from Thailand, and Monica had been so spaced out that she knew it wasn’t that great for him, either.

“I love you,”

Henry reminded her.

“You tell me what you need. I’ll make it happen.”

Monica pushed herself beneath the covers and sidled up against him.

“I’m just dealing with anxiety right now. Maybe I should start seeing my therapist again if she’s still available.”

“Perhaps that’s a good idea. You’ve been through a lot lately, Princess. We both have. Maybe we should both go to a counselor. As a couple.”

“I know you mean well, but I think there are some things in my head I should deal with myself. Because I’m not even entirely sure what’s bothering me the most. God, I keep forgetting about the IRS. That’s how twisted my gut is…”

Henry’s voice deepened as he offered her a tilted look.

“Did something else happen on your trip to Thailand?”

She stiffened.

“I don’t know what you mean. Why do you ask?”

“Eva said something the other day…”

Was this when Monica should grab his cock to distract him? Or would that betray the real feeling congealing in her blood?

Hate. Anger. Spite.

Jackson’s face flashed before her eyes. There he was, on his turf, not only threatening Monica – which she was prepared for – but Eva as well.

“I was prepared to have sex with your sister in front of that man if that was what it took to save our daughter.”

Monica couldn’t say that. She couldn’t confess that she had seen Jackson, let alone what she was willing to do with him.

But Eva… God… Monica felt guilty about that too.

“What did she say?”

Monica hissed.

“Ah, just… that you went through so much stress while I was searching the dead end in Nice. I thought you might want to talk about it now that it’s been a while.”

Monica pulled the covers up over her mouth.

“Not really.”

“Monica…”

“I’m sorry,”

she whispered, unsure if her husband heard her.

“I know I’ve been a sad wife and a bad sub lately, Henry.”

“No, you haven’t. You’re neither. Sheesh, I’m barely thinking about the latter right now. I just want to make sure my family is safe now. That includes you, our daughter, and the other people in our family. If your mother lived with us, I’d be worried about her too.”

My mother? Monica hadn’t talked to her since Christmas. They only had a relationship because of Monica’s money.

“I’ll be fine, Henry. I promise.”

She had to find a way to assure him that she had everything under control. Never mind distract him from finding out the truth within his wife’s heart. I’ll do whatever it takes… That was the kind of woman Monica really was. Which was why she held no qualms about wrapping her hand around her husband’s half-hard cock and waking him up if it meant keeping him from figuring out the truth. It’s between me and my soul, Henry. His demeanor slightly betrayed his own truth as Monica worked his hardening shaft and prepared to go under the covers. He wanted to know. But he also wanted physical intimacy.

One was easier to bargain than the other.

And maybe Monica could forget for a few minutes as well. As soon as his cock was in her mouth, she attempted to forget. It couldn’t be difficult, right?

Yet every time some other image entered her mind, she hesitated. It got to the point where she upped the ante of her movements so it would be over faster. As soon as Henry came, she could go to sleep and hope the next day was kinder to her mind and gentler on her soul.

Even though the spite continued to simmer, and her awakening fury almost made her choke.

He had no idea. Worth it.