When They Go Low - a blackmailing story

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[This is a story that involves blackmailing and noncon elements. I want everyone to know that I do not condone the actions of the characters. This story exists solely in the realm of fiction and should not be treated as an endorsement. I hope you all of you can engage with the content critically and allow yourselves to enjoy the fantasy. Please comment and vote if you enjoy.]

Jeanette arrives at Matthew's apartment with Chinese takeout in one hand and his dry cleaning in the other. As always, she wastes no time and immediately starts on her daily chores, beginning with unloading the dishwasher silently.

She can hear Matt eating, right there on the sofa. Her stomach growls. She bought herself a couple spring rolls and Chow Mein, but she knows eating before taking care of her assigned responsibilities is against the many rules established over the past twelve months. Rules that were strict, unrelenting, and at many times, downright unfair.

Matt sighs and sinks into the cushions of his sofa. He envisions a world where he didn't have to work, didn't have to deal with nonstop clients and supervisors and paperwork. He strains his ears to listen to the sounds of Jeanette's obedience. Despite everything, the soft hum of his refrigerator, the scuffs of her shoes on the hardwood, and the clinking of silverware and dishes was enough to put a satisfied grin on his face. The Kung Pao chicken, paid for by his diligent Jeanette, also helped.

Jeanette starts stacking his porcelain plates like poker chips, carefully placing them in the mahogany cabinets above her head. She has to stand on her toes to reach spots that should be easily accessible. Each time, she imagines a horrible image of herself prematurely letting go of the plates and letting them hit the ground in a million pieces. She cringes at the thought, knowing he would never overlook an opportunity to put her in her place.

Although that image terrifies her, Jeanette wishes for nothing more than to smash every plate, bowl, and glass he had stored in his kitchen in a fierce act of rebellion. She pictures the plates crashing to the floor, the sharp, glorious shards reflecting the sudden shift in Matt's smug expression. She imagines his eyes widening, his smug grin faltering as she stands defiantly amid the chaos, finally free from his suffocating control.

Her fantasies of revolt are rudely interrupted when Matt calls out to her from the kitchen, "stop what you're doing. I've got court soon. I need my shoes polished."

She feebly complies. Matt watches Jeanette making her way around his apartment as if it were her own. She knows that the shoe polish is in the top drawer of his dresser, that the brush is sitting next to it, and that she is expected to drop to her knees in front of him to complete the job. His eyes linger on her cleavage, then her thighs which squish together as she kneels, straining the fabric of her jean shorts. Even her dark hair, pulled into a neat pony-tail, was somehow enticing. Jeanette, in her tight purple tank top and short shorts is all his. She cradles the heel of his shoe in her lap and gets to work.

Matt could easily take off his shoes and hand them to her. In fact, she would probably be able to do a better job.

Would he? No.

Each writer has their obsession. Jeanette thinks that if Matthew ever dabbled in the world of poetry, he would write every poem about kneeling. He not only wanted Jeanette to service him in every action, but he also wanted to see the submission in every position, every movement, every breath expelled from her body must be an admission of her role as inferior. And this position, steeped in vulnerability and powerlessness, was perfect. Sometimes he gave her a cushion to kneel on, but most of the time he let her sit there until her knees grew sore. 

As Jeanette unscrews the lid of the polish, she glances up at him. His hair was endearingly tousled and the sleeves of his crisp button-up shirt were taut against his biceps. Matt was so unnaturally, unfairly attractive. She glances away before he caught her gaze.