Behind The Locked Door – Chapter 1

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For the two years Vanessa had been his housekeeper, she’d wondered what was behind the locked door. And why he kept the key inside a lined box. He’d never asked her to clean that room, though she knew he used it. For each day she wondered, her imagination filled in the blanks.

When he’d first interviewed her, she was awestruck by his magnetism. When he mentioned he lived alone, no wife or girlfriend, she immediately thought he must be gay. But after her first week, Vanessa knew that wasn’t the case when she saw a petite woman leaving his flat early one morning upon Vanessa’s arrival. The pale redhead had smiled as she’d passed by, still in the pursuit of putting on her heeled shoes. That discovery had slowly begun to manifest in Vanessa’s dreams, where she’d wake up with her sheets wrapped around her, a hand moving frantically between her thighs.

Now, two years later, after many imaginings ending in the use of her fingers, Vanessa eyes the velvet-lined box. Her dream the previous night revealed the contents of the locked room, and now in her awake state, curiosity has gotten the best of her. Vanessa believes she knows all his other secrets. Like the bottle of whiskey he hides in his desk; although the rest of the apartment is completely liquor free. Or the boxes of condoms he keeps in his nightstand, yet hardly uses.

As the main door to his flat closes behind him, she shuffles closer. Vanessa eyes the front door, then turns her attention back to the box. Reaching out tentatively, she opens the lid a fraction of an inch. The refrigerator’s compressor kicks in just as she does and with a start and with a lilting laugh, she drops it back into place. A moment later, the front door opens, and there is her boss in all his splendor. Vanessa quickly covers her guilty expression by trying to look busy.

“Forgot some papers on my desk,” Vanessa’s boss says with a smile that almost makes her melt. The dimples on his cheeks will be her undoing if she continues to look at him. Giving him a smile in response, she walks away, opening the storage cupboard loaded with cleaning supplies. He says a hasty farewell once more on his second time through the main door and Vanessa releases a relieved sigh at not being caught. But it’s enough to keep her away from the box. At least for today.

She works through her shift, cleaning rooms that are already spotless and folding his clothes. While placing his laundry in organized drawers, Vanessa holds a linen shirt to her nose and breathes in his scent. Cloves and something else. Oranges, she thinks. It’s masculine and sexy and the heady aroma settles in her core. Vanessa quickly creases the shirt and tucks it away, moving into his bathroom.

After tidying his counter of a few stray hairs, she lines up bottles in the shower, giving it a spray and a quick wipe. In the bin she finds two disposed condoms that she’s sure weren’t there yesterday. With a frown, Vanessa ties the bag, mutters “lucky bitch” under her breath, then stands abruptly when she hears a throat clear behind her.

She spins in place and catches the door frame to stop from falling. Only a few feet away stands her boss once again. I focus his eyes on her, his mouth turned up in a private smile. She wonders why when he asks her, “Who’s the lucky bitch?”

Vanessa’s face blushes scarlet as her eyes grow wide. Why did he have to hear her?

“No one, Sir. I was just talking to myself,” she replies, brushing her hands over the front of her uniform. Vanessa hopes it looks like she’s trying to smooth out the wrinkles, and not the truth of her action, which is to wipe the sweat from her palms.

“I’ve asked you not to call me Sir before,” he begins, taking one step closer. “My employees call me by my first name, only my…” His voice trails off and a shadow crosses his face.

Not sure if the change in his demeanor is about her, what’s she’s said, or the use of the honorific, Vanessa spits out, “Sorry, Sir,” then cringes as the word is uttered again. “It’s habit. I’m not used to calling men by their first name.”

He watches her closely, looking for any hint of deceit, then smiles- a real one this time – and asks, “Why would that be?”

Vanessa is sure the truth is on her face. That every man she’s ever been with has been a dominant. That this job was a last-ditch attempt at supporting herself after leaving the agency upon the end of her last contract, because she wanted something… more. That she used to be a professional submissive and still craves the bite of a whip. She’s saved from answering by the ringing of his phone.

With a finger raised, telling her to wait one minute, he turns his back to her and steps into the hall. Vanessa resumes her duties in the bathroom, replacing the bin under the sink. With fresh towels on the rack and his nearly empty hamper in her arms, Vanessa leaves his bedroom and turns the opposite direction from him. She can feel his eyes on her, caressing her hips and backside, before his voice-still on the phone- follows. With the hope that he’ll forget the previous line of questioning, she makes it to the living area when he asks again, “Why would that be, Vanessa?”

His gaze is penetrative and demanding when she turns. The urge to drop to her knees and bow her head stronger than ever before. As his blue eyes roam over her curves, halting on her breasts and again at her thighs, Vanessa’s breath quickens. He takes a step towards her, which does nothing to aid Vanessa’s response to his unspoken command. It hits her then that he’s likely a Dominant himself. That would explain the lack of relationships, the self-discipline, and the way he looks at her now. It also explains the draw she has towards him, how he makes her nerves ending come alive by being merely in her presence.

With another step, he’s right in front of her. He observes Vanessa with wonder, like she’s some unknown entity, and with natural inclination, Vanessa’s eyes lower and her head bows. The only hint that this act of submission means anything to him is his sudden intake of breath followed by, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

His phone rings again, breaking the spell. He steps back quickly, and Vanessa takes a much-needed breath of air. She watches him pace a short distance away, then makes her escape.

Hours later, she still hasn’t seen him, although he’s in his office. With the laundry done, dinner in the oven and the floor clean, she’s finished for the day. He’s not usually home when she departs, so she doesn’t think he’ll mind her leaving. Vanessa sets a timer on the stove to switch from cook to warm, then steps out the front door. Just before it closes behind her, she spots him peeking out.

The day’s events do nothing to settle her curiosity about the key, and her dreams are more charged than usual. She awakens time and time again, finally giving up on sleep an hour before her alarm. Letting her fantasies wash over her, Vanessa brings herself to a quick orgasm, but knows that her fingers will not be enough this day.

With an excitement she hasn’t known since before leaving the agency, Vanessa showers, taking extra care to shave and pluck, then dresses and makes her way. Her former routine is easily reestablished and the pull of submission leaves her feeling calm and confident. Fifteen minutes early, she lets herself in, then stops abruptly at finding him waiting for her.

“Good morning, Sir,” Vanessa says with a smile, a flush of warmth racing through her when she’s rewarded with a charismatic one in return.

“Good morning, Vanessa. I was hoping we could have a discussion this morning before I leave. I also would like it if you cleaned the spare room. The one that’s locked.” Vanessa’s eagerness must be blatantly obvious, because he emits a small chuckle, producing the key that’s from the box in his outstretched palm. She takes it, pulling her hand back quickly when it’s in her hand. Was it just her that felt that electric spark? She lowers her eyes, not wanting him to see her reaction from that small touch.

“Have a look around. I’ll be right there.”

Vanessa wastes no time putting the key in the lock and turning it but hesitates before opening the door. She knows well that some things can’t be unseen. On noiseless hinges, the door swings inward with barely a push and automated lights illuminate the darkened space. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she knows it isn’t this.

Unlike the rest of his home, this room is feminine and yet, it’s clear what it is meant for. The red walls that she’s come to know well between the agency and contract owners, is dampened in this room, tamed by the presence of lace and silks. A golden cage stands in one corner, large enough for a person, she’s sure, and opposite that is a white chest of drawers, of which she’s sure are filled with anything but clothes. But the cage doesn’t feel imposing here like it has in former dungeons. It’s rather pretty and looks like it may have been made for a large bird. She knows that’s unlikely though. Hanging from the ceiling, it sways when she runs her fingers along it’s gilded bars.

The fours poster bed in canopied with lace, but the fabric does nothing to disguise the cuffs that hang from each pillar. And no amount of paint, or clever concealment can hide that the footboard is an effective pillory. Currently open to create a decorative design, once closed it’ll trap its victim inside.

The walk-in closet holds costumes of all sorts, and Vanessa guesses her boss enjoys a bit of role-play. One wall in lined with shoes, and across from that are wigs and jewelry, and a vanity topped with a makeup case. She resists the temptation to open drawers or browse through the array of corsets and stockings, and instead makes her way back to the main room, where she finds him in wait. His question is unspoken, but it lines his face.

“It’s lovely, Sir,” Vanessa says with a small smile. “But it doesn’t need a cleaning.”

His smile is enigmatic and a bit condescending. “You’re right. It’s not dirty. Yet.” His smile grows at Vanessa’s flush and she quickly averts her eyes.

“This room is a dungeon, yes, but it’s also where my submissive’s stay.” He watches her closely, gauging her response. “No one has been in this room for over two years. And you’re probably the first woman in here wearing street clothes.”

Vanessa’s head pops up to gawp at him, and when he knows he’s got her attention, he continues.

“I finally checked your references and am happy to inform you that not only have all your previous employers been more than thrilled with you, but a few of your contracted Dom’s were sad to see you go. So, I wonder. What made you leave?”

Vanessa isn’t sure she wants to tell him. She’s been told by other submissive’s and quite a few Dom’s that this world and love don’t mix. That you can have one or the other, but never both. She thinks of lying, the deceit on the tip of her tongue when he says,

“Honesty is always the best policy, Vanessa.”

With a sigh, she spits out, “I wanted more. To be more. A chance to find love. To give my submission freely and not for cash. To know that my submission was more than just a contract.”

He frowns at this, obviously caught off guard.

“Do you not think love and submission can go hand in hand?” He asks, head titling sideways.

“I used to once, but that time has passed.”

“But you still crave submission. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me that your needs aren’t being met.”

“My submission has never been about me.” Vanessa replies, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

“Maybe we can do something about that.”

to be continued…

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More Mmm’s can be found by licking the lips.

We can find another story about a door here.

For another series by MrsK, check out Paying a Debt.

More about topics of D/s, see Let’s Talk About.