The Dark Side of Eleanor Warwick
ABUSIVE

Lisa wrings her hands nervously.

She paces along the velvet rope outside her Mistress’ VIP seats. Her new role as hostess took some adjusting to. The everyday service around the House is the easy part, but when guests arrive, and the place becomes a flurry of sound and motion, things get a tad overwhelming.

Lisa is responsible for keeping the submissives focused on their duties, making sure the guests behave themselves, and, of course, tending to Mistress Penelope herself.

The hostess’ simple pantsuit is fine for around the House, but when the doors open something more presentable is required. Her Mistress chose a blue rubber dress that hugs her figure as tight as a second skin. A pair of platform heels don’t make walking around easy. Her chestnut hair is high in a loose bun, a few strands left dangling. Azure eyeshadow matches her restrictive garment.

She checks her watch. The night is still young. Plenty of time for something to go wrong. The House has seen busier nights, but it’s a fair crowd for a weekday. The bar hoppers drink and gawk, as per usual. The players have their fun with friends, lovers, and subs. The wallflowers lurk in the shadows, claiming they’re just there to research a book or screenplay.

“You look nervous,” a smug voice observes.

Lisa snorts and looks at Jeremy. “I’m fine.”

He shrugs as he walks past her, a bus tray in hand. “Worried about screwing up? You should be.”

“Shut up!” she snaps, her harsh tone undercut by a slight cracking. “Get back to work!”

Without a word, the former host resumes his duties. Lisa frowns at his back, adjusting the straps of her dress for the 100th time. She’ll be damned if he’s going to get in her head. Again.

Fortunately, before she can dwell on the passing encounter, another sub approaches her. “Miss Lisa,” the short, wide-hipped woman calls. “There’s someone here demanding to see Mistress.”

“Demanding?”

She nods. Lisa gives her a pat on the arm. “Thank you. I’ll deal with it.” As she weaves through the crowd toward the entrance, she steels herself. Authority does not come naturally to her. She always has to psyche herself up to use it. Just when she’s ready, she steps awkwardly in her platforms and nearly falls.

Glancing around to make sure no one saw her, she starts the process over again. Lisa enters the House’s foyer. A tall, stocky man in a tuxedo looks at her with fear in his eyes. She offers a warm smile that tells him the need for her intervention would stay between them. With a sigh of relief, he steps aside.

Their guest is small enough to be completely hidden by his frame. Lisa reacts with a start.

Jessie’s hazel eyes regard her with aggravation. “I want to talk to her. Now.”

Lip trembling slightly, Lisa stammers. “M-Miss Blackwell. It’s, uh, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve already done her a favor by not kickin’ this guy’s ass, but I’m out of niceness. Take me to her, or there’s gonna be trouble.”

The last time the hellblood visited House Morneau, she disrespected Mistress Penelope. The second time they met, she struck Mistress Penelope in the face. Even after Mistress Penelope saved her life, Jessie responded with nothing but complete and utter disdain. Lisa isn’t about to let her into the House just to cause problems, but she fears how much trouble the hellblood will cause if denied entrance.

“I...,” she finally responds, “I suppose telling me why you need to speak to her so urgently is out of the question.”

“Completely.”

After a nod and a moment’s hesitation, Lisa adjusts her dress again and motions to the doors. “Right this way, please.”

“Good call, bootlicker.” She slips out of her leather jacket and tosses it into Lisa’s arms. “Hang that up somewhere.”

Lisa flinches as Jessie brushes past her. “Yes, Ma’am. Right away.”

The bouncer hurries over to her. “I’m so sorry, Miss Lisa. I was- .”

“Just do your job!” Lisa scolds, tossing the jacket off to him. “Don’t make me come out here again!” He hangs his head as she storms off. She comes to a sudden stop just outside the doors and turns back. “I’m sorry. You’re doing great.”

Stepping into the club area, Lisa finds Jessie headed toward Mistress’ throne with a purposeful pace.

With a gasp, she hurries after her, stumbling again in her heels. She knows her Mistress is meeting with a few VIPs. After another near tumble, Lisa is able to cut Jessie off just a few feet away from the velvet rope. “Stop!” she half orders and half begs, placing a hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “You can’t just burst in there and interrupt!”

Glaring at Lisa’s hand, Jessie sneers. “I’m gonna let this one slide.” Lisa slowly retracts her arm, her brown eyes large. “Now get the fuck out of my way before you get the kind of pain that’s not gonna turn you on.”

Lisa tries to speak, but she can’t find any words. Menace edges Jessie’s eyes, but Lisa is glad that they have so far remained hazel. The eyes snap away from her, giving Lisa a start before she looks over her shoulder.

She didn’t hear her Mistress approach. Fortunately for Lisa, the look of displeasure on Penelope’s face is not directed at her.

The tall woman looms over them both as her guests scamper out from the VIP area behind her. Her dress is similar to Lisa’s, only with black and red colors. Fingerless gloves running up to the elbows hug her arms. A choker, similar in appearance, but significantly different in symbolism to a collar, wraps around her neck. Her wavy hair is parted to the left, cascading to her shoulder like a burgundy waterfall.

“Don’t mind her, Lisa,” Penelope begins, her voice hard and silky at the same time, “she’s just posturing to compensate for the fact that she’s powerless here. It’s adorably pathetic.”

Jessie’s nostrils flare. “I want to talk to you.”

“So it would seem. Unfortunately for you, I’m not the least bit concerned about what you want. Not to mention that you have once again come into my home and done nothing but disrespect me and those who represent me.”

With an aggravated sigh, Jessie turns away. “Fuck this.”

“It’s Mr. Towles, isn’t it?” The hellblood stops but does not turn around. “You’re having relationship problems and you need help. That’s the only reason you’d be coming to talk to me, of all people.” Jessie’s silence says everything. “Despite our issues, I am a professional. I’ll help you. But first, I think you know what I want.”

Jessie balls up a tight, angry fist. “I’m sorry.” The words are more spat than said.

“Excellent. Do come in. Lisa, join us.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Lisa answers, her head bowed.

Lisa holds the rope open until Jessie passes inside. Penny returns to her opulent throne and gestures to one of the adjacent love seats. Plopping down into one of them, Jessie locks eyes with the Mistress.

Despite wanting some advice, she doesn’t trust Morneau. It doesn’t help that the last time she was in this House, she ended up dangling from her wrists with a ballgag in her mouth. She has just cause to be on edge.

Lisa’s rubber dress squeaks as she kneels beside her Mistress’ throne. Penelope absently runs her fingers through her submissive’s hair. She observes Jessie with a smirk. “Arms crossed. Jaw clenched. This is going to go great.”

“Whatever. Are you going to help me or not?” Despite the dismissal, Jessie relaxes slightly.

“Of course. My services are not free, however.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

Penny smiles. “The next time you come here, you’re going to dress the part.” She slides her hand down and runs her fingers along Lisa’s shiny dress. Lisa hums softly. “Understand?”

Jessie groans. “Fine.”

“So, why don’t you tell me the problem?”

With the moment of truth at hand, Jessie hesitates. She runs through a list of who else she could talk to, but the alternatives are worse. Willard? Not a chance. Warwick? Hell no. It’s her own fault for not having any friends.

“I...uh...caught Towles bragging to his friends about sleeping with me.”

Penelope stares for a moment. “And?”

“What the fuck do you mean, and?”

“Men treat women like trophies. Especially when the woman is particularly attractive, which you,” Penelope looks over Jessie’s faded Deep Purple shirt, jeans, and sneakers, “despite your best efforts, are.”

Jessie scowls. “So, what? I just have to accept it?”

“I didn’t say that. It really depends on what kind of relationship you have. You two have been dating for about a month, so- .”

“We’re not dating,” Jessie interrupts.

With a roll of her eyes, the Mistress hardens her tone. “Alright. It’s been about a month since you went home with a stranger and fucked him.”

Lisa glances back and forth nervously as the two women glare at each other. After a moment, Jessie relents. “Fine. We’re dating.”

“I thought so. As his girlfriend...” Penelope trails off, waiting for her to interject. Jessie only stares. “Okay. As his girlfriend, you have every right to be hurt and angry.”

“I didn’t say I was hurt.”

“Oh, no. Of course not. That would require you to have feelings.”

“I have anger,” Jessie snorts.

“And that is no doubt the only emotion you chose to display.”

“I broke his fuckin’ guitar,” Jessie growls. “He’s lucky that’s all I broke.”

Penelope stares silently for a moment, lacing her fingers. “So you responded to his indiscretion with physical violence?”

“No. I didn’t touch him.”

“Physical violence doesn’t require bodily harm. You destroyed his property. Did you feel an impulse to hurt him?”

“I get the impulse to hurt a lot of people.”

“If you want me to help you, Jessica, I need you to be honest.”

“Yeah. I guess I did. What? Are you trying to say I’m abusive or something?”

The Mistress shrugs. “You might not be as far from it as would be ideal. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you’ve responded to similar, perhaps lesser, offenses with threats of some kind.”

It only takes a moment for numerous examples of such threats to pop into Jessie’s mind. “Yeah, but he knows I don’t mean it.”

“Are you sure? After all, you are a very powerful individual. You’re capable of ripping a man to pieces as easily as most would tear a sheet of paper. Mr. Towles knows this.” Penelope leans forward on her throne. “Are you certain that somewhere, deep inside, he’s not afraid of you?”

Jessie immediately opens her mouth to offer a colorful version of no, but stops herself. She saw the fear on his face when he first caught a glimpse of her demonic side. Cassandra Crane’s pet was just defeated, and her blood demanded an acknowledgment of her superiority. Her roar rattled the garbage cans nearby. The look in Marvin’s eyes was one of horror.

“No,” she answers with uncharacteristic meekness.

Penelope eases back. “Lisa, why don’t you get us some drinks? Martini for me, bourbon no ice for her.”

“Yes, Mistress.” The hostess rises and hustles away.

“It’s the tragedy of the strong woman, I’m afraid. Some men can’t handle it. They feel weak, emasculated, even afraid. In your case, the effect is greatly multiplied by the frightening nature of that strength and your unfortunate anger problems.”

Jessie stares at the floor but listens carefully. Penelope’s sincere tone surprises her. “If your strength scared him away, then I say good riddance. You deserve a lover who can handle your power. However, if it’s your threats and violent impulses that chased him off, that’s a different matter. I don’t blame anyone for refusing to tolerate such behavior. He won’t be the last if you can’t rein in your temper. I know he’s not innocent in this, but- .”

“Yes, he is.” Penelope raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got no business expecting him to treat me like his girlfriend. I’ve been telling him not to for weeks.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, it’s entirely your fault.”

Jessie lifts her head, scowling. “Can you just skip to the end, and tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do?”

“It’s not complicated. Talk to him. Tell him that what he did, regardless of your relationship status, upset you. Don’t make him fear your wrath. Make him care about your feelings. Then after that, you have to work on your anger. The threats and breaking things have to stop.”

Jessie nods. “I can do that, I guess.” She relaxes, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her pockets. “Can I smoke in here?”

“Certainly. I’ll join you.” With a snap of her fingers, Penelope summons a short, skinny man from beyond the rope. He offers a box to his Mistress from which she plucks a thick cigar. As the submissive clips the end and produces a lighter, Penny looks at Jessie. “Care for one?”

“Pass.” Jessie lights her own smoke. “I already have to wear one of those stupid outfits. I don’t want to know what a cigar is going to cost me.”

Penelope takes a long drag before dismissing her sub. “Don’t be so negative. You’ll look smashing.”

As the man slips back beyond the rope, Jessie follows him out with her eyes. “How many of those people do you have here?”

“14.”

“Where the hell do they all come from?” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“All over,” Penelope answers, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Eric there came from clear across the country.”

“Okay. Better question; why do they come here?”

“Well, some of them are looking for purpose. Some can’t handle the real world. It’s too big, too overwhelming. They can only thrive in a strictly structured environment. Many gravitate toward military service. Some end up in prison.” The Mistress smiles. “And then there are those who just get off on the lifestyle.”

Jessie scoffs. “No shit. Freaks.”

Penelope only raises a brow in response. Submissives beyond the rope open it, allowing Lisa to enter carrying a crystal glass in each hand. Heading first to her Mistress, her foot rolls to the side of her platform sole. Her eyes widen as she stumbles toward Penny. She watches in horror as the liquid from both glasses splashes across her Mistress’ face.

Lisa and Jessie’s mouths fall open in tandem. Penelope holds her eyes closed as liquor runs down her neck and onto her chest. The club outside the rope seems to quiet. Reaching up with one hand, Penelope wipes the bourbon from her eyes. When they open, her emerald spheres are pointed as daggers. A slight whimper escapes Lisa just before the silence is shattered.

Penelope’s eyes drift away from her for a moment as Jessie cackles like a hyena. “That was totally worth coming here!”

The Mistress’ gaze returns to Lisa as she rises from her throne. With a snap that seems to carry through the entire building, Penelope calls upon Eric again. “Take this,” she orders, offering her cigar.

“Yes, Mistress,” he complies, taking it.

She gestures to the glasses, trembling in Lisa’s hands. “Take those.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Get out.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Jessica.” She speaks to her guest, but her eyes continue to bore into her hostess, “I assume you can see yourself out.”

“I’ll manage,” Jessie answers, her laughter winding down.

“Don’t forget our deal.”

Jessie stands and puts out her cigarette. “I won’t.”

“Excellent. Excuse us.” Penelope loops a finger through the steel ring dangling from Lisa’s collar and roughly pulls her along as they quickly exit her sanctuary.

Jessie chuckles to herself as she leaves House Morneau. The levity took her mind off things, but back out on the cold streets, reality set in again. She isn’t looking forward to talking with Towles. She doesn’t even know what to say. Work on your anger, she says. Like it was so simple.

Jessie isn’t certain her anger is really a problem. She rather likes it. So, Towles is afraid of her. That’s his problem. Why should she change? Why doesn’t he just grow a pair? She blows up on Warwick all the time. Warwick isn’t afraid of her. She just accepts her.

Shaking her head, Jessie can’t believe what she’s thinking. What does Warwick have to do with anything?

Before she can answer herself, Jessie bumps into a tall young woman in an expensive overcoat. Quickly adjusting her pace, she keeps walking. “Watch where the fuck you’re going!”

“Jessica?”

She comes to a sudden halt. That voice. She knows that voice. But from where? It’s a smooth, cultured voice. A voice that tugs at something in her mind.

Looking over her shoulder, she finds the woman turned to face her. She has the blackest hair Jessie has ever seen. The woman flashes a brilliant smile. “Don’t you recognize me?” she asks. “It’s me; Madeline.”

Hazel eyes widen as demonic blood runs cold.

“Your sister.”

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