Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 05

Moving In

Jane was pleased to be wearing a dress with a hem almost to the knees. The gratitude she felt toward Mark for letting her wear it, was misplaced. He was just an adolescent, yet it was taken for granted that he chose her clothing, even deciding if she could wear underwear. It was a sign of how downtrodden she had become, where everything she now did was under his supervision.

'I like your hair up, it shows off your neck,' Mark commented.

'Thank you, sir,' she replied, and smiled at him. He was nervous since his mother had arrived home, and so was she. Two days of being at his beck and call, pandering to his whims, had her automatically thinking of herself as his personal maid.

His mother walked into the lounge having returned from a two day business trip. She looked pleased with herself, as it had resulted in a lucrative contract. Jane had been hoping for a god result, so the harridan would go easy on her. She wanted to get home to check everything was in order, yet needed this controlling woman's permission.

She also wanted to phone her daughter, to check up on her, to make sure she was alright at college. There was no way Louise would guess her virtuous mother had been screwing her ex-boyfriend. It hadn't always been him taking her, for she had ended up willingly consorted with him. She enjoyed his attention, and the great sex. Never before had she let herself go so completely.

'You seem to have got on well together,' Margaret said, with a sly smile on her face.

'We did,' he smiled back at his mother.

'Maid, fetch me a drink, you know what I want,' Margaret ordered. She noticed Mark was bothered by something.

'I need a drink after those long boring meetings,' she explained, to no-one in particular.

'You should let me tell her what to do,' he petulantly said.

'Why?' Margaret asked. Noticing Jane return to his side, an awkward thought crossed her mind.

'You gave her to me, before you left,' he explained. He was trying to be casual, as though it were a foregone conclusion, not open to discussion.

'Just to look after while I was away. That's all. She's my maid, not your sexy plaything,' she forcefully spoke.

Whatever silly notions he had, would need to be squashed right now. She had plans for the stupid woman. Besides, she didn't want her son to form a crush on a thirty-four year old woman, that was just too ridiculous.

'She is now,' he pouted. He couldn't help reverting to a demanding teenager in front of his mom.

'She belongs to me. There's no way I'm giving her to you. You're not capable of looking after her properly,' she pointed out.

'I can look after her. I know what she wants,' he leered.

'What about the daughter? There's also meetings she goes to, and a house to look after. A woman has physical and personal things to attend to. Are you going to be involved in the messy things of life. Are you going to keep track of where she's supposed to be, and what she's to do once there?' Margaret asked, pointing a finger at Jane.

He was over eighteen and could make up his own mind without her interference. The idea of making up his own mind gave him an idea.

'What do you think, maid?' he asked. Asking on the spur of the moment might not have been such a good idea.

Jane had been listening to them arguing over her, as though she were nothing more than a family pet. What was next, a collar and leash? Would they argue over who's turn it was to clean out her cage? That's how it felt in this house. As if she were in a cage, with the bars tightening around her with every wicked thing she complied with. Her actions were becoming more salubrious as the will to resist faded.

What was she to do? Over the last two days he controlled every move she made. Of course he enjoyed teasing, and sexually working up a mature adult. He was exploring and developing, just playing with her. It was terribly damning that she too enjoyed the naughty games. Being his plaything, letting him experiment on her, was demeaning. She was a mature woman with a daughter. It was immoral for her to give in to him.

Margaret was right. If she was to be subject to one of them, it was a woman who would look after her properly. Margaret would use her, but keep her on a longer leash. She would understand that there were things in life that had to be taken care of, besides a young man's carnal needs. Again the feeling of being a pet hung heavily upon her. The decision had to be made.

With head hung low, she traipsed over to Margaret and stood demurely beside her. She couldn't look at Mark, not wanting to see the disappointment, or acknowledge the anger emanating from across the room. Thankfully he quickly stormed off to his room.

'So, maid. You enjoyed yourself, with my son?' Margaret innocently asked.

'Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am,' Jane responded without thinking.

The woman gave her a knowing look and Jane blushed brightly from acknowledging the awful truth.

'He's nearly half your age!' Margret said, in mock surprise. 'I wonder what our righteous neighbours would say, if they knew you were screwing my son?' she said, sounding genuinely curious, as though considering the idea.

During the pause all was quiet, as even Mark had switched off the loud protest music playing in his room. Jane sunk further into the mire, even though it was obvious the woman was merely mocking her, with no intention of telling anyone. Of course Margaret wouldn't tell anyone. Breaking the hold over her victim would spoil the fun.

'Get me that drink, maid,' Margaret sighed. It was time to relax now the confrontation with Mark was over. 'Unpack my bags, and wash the clothes. Not these,' Margaret referred to the shopping bags parked beside the chair.

They were gifts bought after a lucrative business meeting. Something for herself, Mark, and the maid.

Returning to the lounge, Jane was pleased to see her boss was relaxed. 'Would you like something to eat, ma'am,' Jane asked.

'Another drink will suffice. Too many business lunches,' she said.

Margaret smiled at the woman. Mark had completed his tasks unexpectedly well. Her whole bearing revealed acceptance of the maid role. She looked humble, and ready to obey. The transformation started from the moment the morning after pill had been taken. It was a stark symbol of her fall from grace. It wasn't just the threat of blackmail keeping her under the thumb. She seemed to be a natural, and just needed a push to take the first step in being a submissive.

'Any side effects from the morning after pill?' Margaret asked

'No, ma'am,' Jane answered, with a reddening face.

'What about the daily one?'

'No ma'am,' came the same reply.

It was very embarrassing having this woman put her on the pill, as though she were a stupid adolescent. At the time she had been desperate for the Levonelle, and would have agreed to anything. Having already proved to be irresponsible, she had to agree to going on to the pill, and a good job too. Becoming pregnant by Mark would have been a disaster.

'I see you've been wearing the corsets, as instructed,' Margaret commented.

She noticed the woman pause a moment, wondering over the idea that Mark had been carrying out his mother's instructions.

'Yes, ma'am,' Jane said.

There was an unspoken curiosity of why, and what else had been instructed. She recollected Mark mentioning something about his mother's instructions, though the comment had been ignored at the time.

'Your waist looks slimmer already. I need to do something too,' Margaret said, while patting her tummy.

Margaret was dark haired, with hazel eyes, in contrast to Jane, who was blonde. In build they were similar, though Jane had a round pretty face, and Margaret's was long, almost oval. Margaret was attractive, with long wavy black hair, a wide mouth, and dangerous, flashing hazel eyes.

'Did you obey mark as instructed?' she asked.

'Yes, ma'am,' Jane said, faltering slightly.

'He had to punish you, didn't he. Don't prevaricate, I'll ask him tomorrow,' she warned.

'Yes, ma'am. He spanked me,' Jane admitted, trying hard for a neutral tone of voice.

Margaret laughed. 'My son spanking a neighbour, so kinky! I wish I could have been there to see your face. Oh, I see. You enjoyed it, didn't you! Don't deny it, I can see it in your face, as soon as you mentioned it. You naughty slut!' Margaret laughed.

Jane tried to keep it all hidden but her face was a movie of rapidly changing emotions. It started with surprise that she had been understood, when she hadn't been able to accept it herself yet. Lastly, it was one of shame over the sordid episode.

'Get to bed, maid. I'll have plenty of work for you tomorrow,' Margaret insisted.

'Yes, ma'am, thank you, ma'am,' Jane said.

She hurried off to her room, glad to escape the tormentor. She lay awake thinking over how excited she had become from the humiliation of being spanked by a young man. What in hell was happening to her?

Having travelled most of the day, after heavy meetings, Margaret was exhausted. She retired early to bed, after checking the two of them were in their own rooms.

Mark sneaked into Jane's room, and slipped into her bed, intending to slip into her.

'Sir! We can't! Not now your mother is home,' Jane complained.

'Don't worry, she'll be dead to the world,' he reassured her.

To overcome the reluctance he tickled her, while trying to unwind both arms protecting her body.

Soon she began to giggle like a schoolgirl. It felt as though they were adolescents, playing around behind a parents back. Giving up peeling away one limb, only to find the other tightly in place, he instead trapped her arms, by shoving them under her body and holding her down. Kisses to her face and neck began to win the battle.

Knowing he wasn't going to give up, she relented. Fighting him and her own desire was too much. Not wanting to make a noise. she decided to keep calm, and let him have his way with her. She tried to think of herself as just the household servant, being taken by the son. The ploy didn't work. Her passion became inflamed as ever it had before. She tucked a corner of a sheet into her mouth, to suppress the groans of pleasure.

A quick hug and a kiss, then he slipped away to his room. Laying awake she thought over her new life. This couldn't go on. Both of them were using her for their own ends. The sex was good, but that too was wrong. She no longer thought of it as being bad, just inappropriate.

Next morning Jane was up early preparing breakfast for the two of them. To keep them out of the way, she delivered breakfast trays to their beds. Keeping Margaret in a good mood was important. She wanted permission to go home. Of course she would promise to return, though an excuse could be found to delay, or maybe escape to an hotel. She daydreamed over visiting Louise in college, and staying for awhile.

***

Over the last three weeks Jane hadn't much chance to think over what was happening to her. For long hours she was kept busy as a maid, an assistant, and a sex toy. Cleaning and tidying her own home had always been enjoyable, though being a humble maid in a neighbour's house wasn't a matter of choice. Margaret's minimalist interior design was less homely than her own preference of chintz, yet it had grown on her. The modernised kitchen turned out to be very practical, so much so, that she thought of redecorating her own on similar lines. If she ever got the money together.

Being a maid had become a routine for both Jane and her mistress, Margaret. The harridan had mellowed, as Jane became more adept at anticipating her wishes. Jane was useful in organising the house, and her belongings. Keys, handbags, shoes, and everything else, was in the right place when she needed them.

Phone calls to her daughter, Louise, were allowed. The conversation centred around her allowance, without giving anything away as to what she doing, or how she was getting on in college. The calls were short, devoid of information, and disappointing for Jane. She needed to open up to her daughter, to share her anguish, but then, it was impossible to tell her daughter anything of what was happening in the damnable house.

Business meetings were the worst part of the job. Mostly it was the embarrassment of being an assistant. Fetching the coffee was alright, it was being made to feel inferior, and worse. Sometimes she was used to distract the client in an awful way.

At night she would visit Mark's room, which was satisfying a base need, yet it was also a source of anguish. He was too young to have much experience, yet he was making more inventive demands upon her. It always ended up with an orgasm, sometimes more than one, so she complied. That he was experimenting with her was worrying, from not knowing what he might try next. Being reduced to a sex toy was humiliating, yet that to had her trembling with excitement.

***

'Jane! Where's my briefcase? Oh! Thanks, you're a treasure,' Margaret said, as they walked out the front door. 'Just the one business meeting this morning then we'll run along to your house to make sure it's secure, and pick up the bills,' Margaret said.

The three hour drive passed quietly, with both women deep in thought. Jane wondered if she were to show off some part of her body to a stranger. The boss made her, accidently, pop buttons on a blouse, straighten the seams on stockings, lose her panties, or use some other ruse to gain an advantage over a client.

Margaret was considering what kind of ploy to use on Lenard. She knew he was an easy one to unsettle, as she had flirted with him more than once in recent months. He used suggestive innuendo, then backed off, pretending it was just a joke if the woman became upset or angry. Not a pleasant guy, but he was harmless enough.

They arrived in reception at an impressive modern building. Once signed in they were shown into a white walled conference room. Jane had become used to the standard layout of offices, almost recognising the usual cheap prints on the walls. She straightened one, out of habit.

They weren't waiting long for the client. Margaret gave Jane strict instructions as usual, leaving her assistant frightened. The outcome of the meeting depended upon her performing as ordered, which added to her anxiety. That was worrying, what was frightening was the awful performance itself. Knowing she would be punished if she failed, so there was no way out. As usual she would try her hardest to comply.

Margaret faced Lenard, while behind her Jane fiddled in the brief case, which lay on the floor. She hoped the woman was capable of this part at least. When she saw Lenard's eyes light up, she was sure of it.

Jane was bent over in a short skirt, showing off stocking tops, and more. Margaret kept a flow of words going that wouldn't require the preoccupied man to respond. She gave him time to absorb the intriguing picture, then turned around.

'What are you doing, girl?' she crossly demanded. She rolled her eyes at Leonard, showing exasperation, indicating this was typical of the stupid blond.

'I can't find the file, sorry, ma'am,' she answered, with a voice full of consternation.

Margaret snatched the case from the floor, to rest it on the desk.

'It's not here! That's the wrong paperwork, stupid girl. I'm sorry Lenard, she's a typical dumb blond. I only took her on as a favour to her father, to keep her out of trouble. I'll have to go back to the office. If I send her, she'll come back with the wrong file,' Margaret huffed.

He looked as though an objection was on its way.

'Jane can stay here to show you the figures, while I get the contract,' Margaret said.

'No problem, I'm sure I can spare the time,' he smiled at Jane, totally ignoring Margaret.

'Where do we start?' he asked, spreading the papers over the desk.

'I'm not sure, sir. I was supposed to study them yesterday, but I forgot. Please don't tell my boss, she'll fire me and send me home. Please sir, don't tell her, please!' Jane said, pulling out the last word in a plaintive whine.

Wearing a tight corset, her voice was already sounding breathless, so it was easy to act anxious. Besides, she was frightened of letting Margaret down, so the plea was almost real. The nervous, submissive young woman she appeared to be, was what she had become. It was no act.

'I see,' he mused. She was standing close beside him, with her hip touching his hand.

With trembling hands she tried to arrange the pages in order, only to let one slip to the floor. Crawling on hands and knees, she brushed against his legs, to retrieve the lost paper. She could feel the back of the skirt rising around her hips, trying not to imagine what he could see of her rear. Short of breath from bending over in the corset, she put a hand on his knee, kneeling before him.

With a bright smile, she breathlessly said, 'Got it sir. I really want to do it for you, if you'll let me,' she said, with big blue innocent eyes. Both hands were on his leg, as though ready to push herself up off the floor. For a moment she was proud of the performance, having progressed from the usual mishap, to this more complicated routine.

He was looking down the open blouse at an ample cleavage, which she contrived to ignore. While on the floor she had slipped a button loose, as instructed by Margaret. The corset pushed up her breasts, with the nipples almost popping out. So far all was going to plan, but would he respond? She had to be careful not to push him along, as it had to seem as though he were taking advantage of her.

He stroked her hair and smiled at her. 'Why do you want to keep the job so badly,' he asked. He prevented her from rising, as the view of her breasts was so alluring.

'I don't want to let Margaret down, or my father. He'll stop my allowance and make me get a real job,' she petulantly answered.

'I have to decide whether to do the right thing or not. I should tell Margaret, but . . .' he said.

'Oh, please, I'll owe you big time, if you don't tell, please, sir,' she whined.

'I need to know if you are the right character to protect. I have a way to tell,' he said, with a crafty look on his face.

'OK. Test me, sir,' she demurely said.

'I'll guess what colour panties you wear,' he mischievously said.

As usual he made it a joke, if she objected, and if she didn't, he would continue. After all, her boss had said she was a dumb blond, and she was desperate for his co-operation.

'If that will tell you what I'm like, I mean, the right character, please do,' she willingly said.

Inside she classified the guy as a creep. Though, she couldn't blame him after such a lewd act.

'If I guess right, I win them,' he grinned.

'I'm not sure, sir. What will you think of me if I do?' she asked, with a pained look of consternation.

'That's a part of the test. I'll know if I can trust you,' he said, with a suspicious look.

He was wondering if this was a set-up, which was typical of Margaret. The look of innocence on her face tempted him to continue, or maybe it was the stocking tops.

'What will I do without panties in this short skirt?' she asked, looking as though she were straining for an answer.

'Be very careful how you bend over,' he said, with a chuckle.

'Well, I guess. Sometimes I forget to put things in the laundry basket, and don't have any to wear, so maybe. . . Alright then,' she reluctantly agreed.

'You are wearing a red thong,' he declared.

'I think you're right. Yes! I remember now, the maid wasn't in yesterday, so it was the last clean pair this morning. How clever of you, sir. Does this mean you won't tell on me?' she asked, looking worried.

'Conclude the next part of the deal, then we'll see,' he firmly stated.

'Eh?' she said, with a wrinkled brow, as though not understanding. He held out his hand to her. 'Oh! The panties,' she said. Looking bemused, she stood up, pressing both hands on his leg. With the skirt lifted almost to her hips, she asked, 'Are you sure this is OK, sir? This isn't a trick is it? You won't tell on me, will you, sir.'