It All Comes Out In The Wash

Amelia Jackson sat at her desk, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, but her mind was elsewhere. She had designs on her handsome boss, Jonathan Clements, and had done since the day he hired her eighteen months ago. At twenty-seven, she was a consummate predator in the corporate jungle, and Jonathan was the most formidable prey she had ever encountered.

She was a people reader; she could spot a submissive soul in seconds. Underneath his charming posture and the power he exuded when it came to work, she could tell there was something buried deep. She noticed the way his eyes would flitter to her high heels when he thought no one was watching, and how he seemed mesmerized by her sharp, painted nails when she made gestures during meetings. He was very good at hiding these tells, but he couldn't hide them from her.

Over the next six months, she observed. Dropped in a few traps that he had fallen into, just little movements and statements that revealed his true nature. She would accidentally drop a pen, and watch how his gaze lingered on her as she bent to pick it up. She would make comments about control and dominance in hypothetical business scenarios, and notice how he shifted uncomfortably in his expensive leather chair.

Then there were the secret calls and texts, especially the ones where he told her he had to leave for the afternoon, doing so without any other explanation. He would return hours later, his face flushed, his tie slightly askew, and a distant look in his eyes that Mildred's clients always wore after a session.

Amelia was patient; she had other forms of entertainment. Boys she could call, and they would be on their knees, just begging for her attention. She had three regular pets—successful men in their own right who paid handsomely for the privilege of worshiping at her feet. But Jonathan, he was the big prize; many a night she had finished herself with the image of Jonathan naked on his knees, her big thick black collar padlocked securely around his neck as he signed over everything to her.

She knew it was a lofty goal, but her bank account was bursting because of similar plans that had come to fruition. At the moment, she was receiving regular payments from four businessmen and one lady barrister, who paid her for her secrecy. They all had families and reputations to protect, and Amelia was more than happy to provide silence—for a price.

Jonathan was different; she actually wanted to settle down and have a real relationship with him, though it would be on her terms. She imagined him coming home to her, naked and collared, ready to serve her after a day of running his company. She'd let him keep the business—it was good money, after all—but she'd control him, and by extension, his empire.

The last two times Jonathan had gone to visit Mildred, Amelia had followed him. The first time, she had lost him in Chatham's winding streets, but the second time, she was prepared. She had one of her pet boys do a deep, dark web search on the property where Jonathan disappeared, and he had found something very interesting about the owner, a certain Mildred Smith.

According to the information her pet had dug up, Mildred Smith was a fifty-six-year-old woman who owned three laundrettes across the Medway towns and two more in other nearby Kent towns. But that wasn't the interesting part. The interesting part was the trail of ruined men in her wake—divorced, bankrupted, or both, after encounters with her. There were whispers on dark web forums about a "keyholder" in Kent who specialized in breaking CEOs and other high-powered men.

Amelia smiled to herself as she typed a response to an email. She had Jonathan's weakness, and now she knew where it led. It was only a matter of time before she could use this knowledge to her advantage, before she could replace Mildred as the object of Jonathan's submission.