The Major's Pretty Baby Face

By Beagle9690
June, 2011


I found his note instructing me to wake him by four in the afternoon when I returned from a pleasant early afternoon lunch date with his mother.

My Master, Matthew, naps after workouts on his pommel horse or weight machine in the basement.

In preparation, I will undress completely and take down my dark honey blond hair. Today I wore it in a braided bun as he instructed before I left the house. It will be nice and wavy for my Matthew’s hands to caress while I suck on his cock and balls.

Matthew says I have stunningly intelligent and expressive blue eyes. He makes me look into his eyes when I suck on his cock.

I have grown my hair very long for him. It falls in soft thick waves to the bottom of my firm round ass cheeks to show off and enhance my curvaceous figure. Matthew says my hair is very beautiful but he wants it longer still. My master is not one for false praise nor will he be denied.

Matthew says he has watched my sexuality bloom like the most colorful and exotic of rare tropical flowers. That is how Matthew describes those changes in me. I no longer suppress my submissive sexuality and passive nature, I embrace them.

Another of the changes I have discovered about myself is that I enjoy a little bit of pain. It heightens my arousal and enhances my glorious orgasms and obedience to him for I am a true slut, Matthew’s slut.

Especially while being bound and helpless. I am forced to wait, sometimes for hours in longing desire as my juices flow making me wet with arousal and yearning for his touch.

When Matthew uses me for his pleasure my multiple orgasms seem endless as they burn through my body when he ravishes me. I love having my hair pulled when he fucks me hard.

I am mandated to exercise daily to maintain my figure or I will be spanked and it will hurt. My punishments are tailored to the situation.

Although I am 37, I can easily pass for a much younger woman in her twenties because he has seen to that.

I can kneel or be bound helpless for hours with little discomfort because of my daily yoga and Matthew is very proud of me.

I have also discovered early morning exercise and yoga invigorates my creative energy for the day. I can easily keep up with him on his long walks or our frequent backpacking wilderness camping trips.

I no longer work for Wright Insurance and Securities. I am much too busy taking care of our home.

Mathew teases me and calls me his kept woman or his Mistress. To the world we are boyfriend and girlfriend.

Matthew’s family accepted me as one of their own and his mother treats me like a daughter. His sister, Laura, keeps pushing us to get married.

I am a woman of leisure in a matter of speaking. I am free to stay home to paint and draw. My paintings, my chalk and charcoal drawings are on display in several art galleries. The proceeds from their sale go to charity and for my art supplies.

I have everything I possibly need. I have Matthew and he sees to all my needs. Clara would be scandalized if she knew, may her soul rest in peace. I have a cleaning lady that comes in three times a week. Matthew insists on it.

I have no excuse not to look my best for my Master. My hair and makeup must always be perfect. Frumpy is no longer in my vocabulary and he oversees the purchase of all of my clothing and chooses my hairstyle for the day.

I was a married woman of thirty when I went to work for Matthew. I was fifty pounds heavier having let myself go frumpy. I wore loose and baggy clothing and stopped wearing makeup entirely. That has all changed.

Now at 37 years of age I weigh a fit and trim one hundred twenty five pounds at five-eight. My Master monitors my weight carefully and heaven help me if I gain more than five pounds.

He disciplines himself as well. At six-four he is strong and fit, like the competitive gymnast and hockey player he once was. I love my Master and I know in my heart that he loves me. If Matthew would only come out and say it, “I love you Chastity’.

Matthew has ordered me to share my story… our story, and so I shall. He will interject his opinions and perceptions from time to time.


My ex- husband, Donald, is doing two consecutive life sentences resulting from killing a young mother and her infant daughter in an automobile accident.

Donald was drunk at the time. It was the third time he was arrested for driving while under the influence.

I was never accepted by my husband’s mother. Clara was always interfering in our marriage and her lists of complains, criticisms and advice were endless. Holidays were always stressful with my mother-in-law.

Before I was married my family took turns for the holidays. Dad’s family would get Christmas Eve and Mom’s Family Christmas Day. We would alternate from year to year.

I followed that same tradition while I was married to Donald. We went back and forth between Donald’s family and mine. Donald spent all holiday’s with his family leaving early when it was our turn to spend the day with mine.

When I was with Donald’s family, I had to listen to my mother-in-law’s hymns of praise about Clara’s three other daughter-in-laws, the ones who were knuckled under and spent all their Holiday’s with her. Holiday’s with Donald’s family was like a depressing sitcom with an abundance of good food.

The final nail in my coffin was when my mother-in-law found out I couldn’t have children.

If nothing else Clara doted on her many grandchildren, eight, and she spoiled them terribly. Clara blamed me being sterile for her son’s drinking; as if Donald needed any excuse to drink.

My ex-husband is a cowardly momma’s boy. There is no doubt about that. Donald never took my side against his mother, even when his own brothers stuck up for me. He always wanted me to compromise which meant to capitulate in full to keep the peace.

It wasn’t only the drinking that drove me into the arms of another man. Sober and temperate, Donald will always be a momma’s boy.

My pathetic ex-husband refused to get help for his addiction. Donald was a functioning alcoholic like his father. His three older brothers drank but were smart enough to drink at home and sparingly.

Even early in our marriage, Donald liked to drink in low class dives. I had a bad feeling about that; why not drink in nice bars.

Matthew says I am attuned to such things, more so than him. I followed Donald once to see if he was cheating on me.

I waited in the shadows of the parking lot. Donald came staggering out of the bar with a woman; a woman old enough to be his mother.

The barfly stopped to smoke one of those long thin cigarettes. She held it between her fingers trying to emulate the graceful movements of the old time movie actresses when smoking was thought to be sexy.

I watched as the anonymous old floozy inhaled and held the noxious smoke in her tar coated lungs before letting the smoke out, some escaping through her nose. This old Cyprian spit on the ground while reaching around under her dress to adjust the crotch of her panties.

The old trollop then grabbed Donald by the crotch and kissed his mouth. My husband actually let her. I was ready to vomit when she turned her head to cough and spit up some phlegm onto the ground before kissing my husband’s lips again.

They went to Donald’s truck where she gave him a blowjob followed by the old broken down lush, rolling down the window to spit his semen outside along with whatever other juices resided in her mouth. Donald put his arm around her shoulder and she cuddled up next to him.

Donald held her for a half-hour while they sat in the truck sharing a fifth of cheap whiskey. She smoked several more of those cigarettes in between sips.

Finally, the woman got out and my husband drove off to who knows where. The old lush smoked another cigarette before going back into the bar.

I sat in my rust bucket of a car trying to make sense of things while gathering the courage to go inside to confront the home wrecker.

Once inside the “Palace of Song”; that was the actual name of the dive, I sat at the bar across from the whiskey marinated barfly.

I don’t drink at all. I had to order something to blend in so I ordered Rum & Coke.

From where I was sitting I could see the bartender cleaning my glass on the stationary brush after dipping it into the sink on the side containing a greenish sterilizing solution. There were tiny flecks of who knows what floating in it along with a cigarette butt.

Next, the bartender put it in the other side full of gray rinse water before dumping it out to fill it with ice. He dumped the ice out and rinsed my glass in clean hot water from the faucet when he saw I was watching him.

“All new customers get their first drink on the house,” the bartender announced, smiling magnanimously, “I own this landmark establishment and the laundry mat across the street. I see that you are married,” he added, glancing at my wedding band and engagement ring, “Are you meeting your husband here?”

“You might say that,” I replied, wishing the bartender would go away. He was hitting on me. I realized I said the wrong thing and must have given him the wrong impression because several of the men at the bar were watching me intently when I walked in. They were listening as intently to the exchange. One of them got off his stool and sat down next to me.

“Yes, I am meeting my husband. We are going out for dinner when he gets out from work.” I lied to no avail. The man sitting next to me tried to start up a conversation. I ignored him. I was a married woman who didn’t belong here.

I never go to bars, but I continued to watch my husband’s choice in women to cheat on me. Eventually, Romeo took the hint and left; another Romeo took his place and tried the same.

Noticing I was staring, the lush walked over and asked, “Why are you staring at me? What’s your problem, huh?”

I had to think fast, “Excuse me for being rude. I was taught better than that. I was wondering if you were she. The resemblance is uncanny. My mother used to take me to the Community Theater on Delaware when I was a little girl,” that part was true.

“What do you mean,” she asked.

I’m sure I saw you on stage. I’ll never forget my first and favorite musical, “Oklahoma”. What a voice that actress had, even better than Shirley Jones. I thought it was you; I mean that actress was prettier. That wonderful inspiring actress was blonde, and you are a blonde. Oh, I know that was a long time ago but…..”

The old floozy smiled and I was thinking, ’good she bought it.’

“I can act, sing and dance,” interrupted the man sitting next to me. “I can be anybody you want. Let’s pretend I’m your husband. Bartender, buy my wife a drink!”

The bartender brought me a chit and put it next to my untouched drink before scooping up several dollars from the pile of bills in front of the second Romeo to pay for it.

“No, I never sang in Oklahoma, but I do remember the Community Theatre on Delaware. I sang there in a musical during my senior year of high school. The musical was “South Pacific.”

I am a singer by profession. I have starred in numerous engagements in Las Vegas before I returned back home to sing locally. You were too young to go to those places, honey. I’m sure your Mother wouldn’t take you there.”

“Why don’t you sing for us, Nancy?” Romeo two said, interrupting again. Can you sing “far away”?”

“Buzz off, Fred. Can’t you see we’re having a conversation and the lady is not interested?”

“It’s a free country, Nancy,” the man replied taking my chit and going back to where he was sitting.

I stayed for almost two hours trying to make a graceful exit as Nancy told me her life story, embellishing it a bit I’m sure.

Nancy’s age was from sixty five to seventy. She was thin to the point of emaciation. Nancy’s dress was much too young a style for her and had seen better days. I could tell that she tried very hard to keep neat and clean despite smelling like booze and stale cigarettes.

She was wearing far too much face powder and ridiculous amounts of rouge on her cheeks. There was a tooth missing in her dentures when she smiled. Nancy was smiling now that she had a sympathetic ear.

Nancy’s thinning dirty gray bleached blonde hair was pulled back in a short narrow ponytail and she had feathers in it.

I found out that Miss Nancy Grace lived in a room above the bar and worked in the Laundry Mat across the street. Miss Grace wanted me to take me up there to show me her scrap book.

It was sad really. In other circumstances I might have gone. I felt sorry for this woman. I was ashamed of myself for labeling Miss Grace with names like lush, floozy, trollop or barfly. Nancy was a lonely, lost soul.

I was hurting myself yet I stayed to listen when I could have just walked out.

Before I left we went to the far wall. There was a large poster advertising her singing engagement. The poster is similar to what is seen now in movie theatres.

It was under glass and framed in dark oak. There were other signed pictures on that wall featuring local celebrities and some famous ones, when this place saw better days as a booming popular nightclub, and before that a landmark tavern and stage house.

The photos and plaques were dusty. The glass was oily and grimy, except for Miss Grace’s. The wood was clean and smelled like lemon oil and the glass was crystal clear. The glass seemed to sparkle, even in the dim light of the sparsely placed incandescent light bulbs in the high ceiling fans.
Miss Grace had such a faraway look on her face as she touched in reverently….remembering.

The Poster was a lithograph of Miss Grace when she was a woman about my age. Her arms extended in welcome to the audience with the outline of a full orchestra in the background, and Miss Grace was wearing a colorful flouncy dress with feathers in her full long blonde hair.

The lettering at the bottom gave the dates and places of her singing engagement, announcing in bold letters “Starring Nancy Grace”. Those years were the Pinnacle of her life, and now?

Miss Grace did sing in nightclubs and appeared in Las Vegas in some of the smaller Casinos for a time. Then in various lounges and finally as she got older, dive bars for pittance wages and drinks, but mostly for the chance to be in the limelight.

Nancy graciously sang the theme song of “Oklahoma” for me and I was surprised she knew the words. In her day Nancy must have had a fabulous singing voice. The cigarettes and booze had taken much of it.

Before I left Miss Grace showed me a much worn and faded color photo of her when she was a teenage girl. She was standing behind a table with a birthday cake on the table lit with candles.

Nancy was wearing a simple blue dress with a lace collar and her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

There was a young man standing next to Nancy. They were standing and looking at one another, arms straight out and fully extended. They were holding hands

It was obvious from how they were standing and how they were looking at one another that they were in love. Women know these things.

I could tell that young man absolutely adored Nancy…it was that obvious.

“I was eighteen when this picture was taken, Chastity, we both were. The photo was taken on Sunday, right after Church. Momma and I used to sing in the Choir.

It was my birthday and my Mom gave me a surprise birthday party. Charlie popped the question to me as I was getting ready to blow out the candles. I accepted. We were to be married in June.

The alcohol was starting to wear off and Miss Grace seemed a different woman now.

“Something came up and I…..I mean something always came up with me. I was getting one singing engagement after another and I was always out late singing or rehearsing, I….

We never….” Nancy paused and wiped a tear as she stared at that photo. I gave her some Kleenex from my purse.

Miss Grace wiped her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. She looked kindly at me. It was then that I realized that her eyes were the same color as mine, the same deep blue that my Master likens to priceless sapphires. Age and alcohol had not dimmed the brilliant blue color of Nancy’s eyes.

“I don’t know why you are here, honey and it doesn’t matter. You don’t belong in a place like this. I can tell. You have never done anything like this before. You haven’t touched your drink.

Miss Grace sounded more like a kindly Mother now then the low woman that I first assumed her to be.

“Look at you, dear. You didn’t even have the sense to take your rings off. Go home to your husband, honey. It can’t be all that bad. Go home, Chastity.”

I went into that bar intending to confront the woman and leave hating her. I assumed hating that woman would make me feel better.

Instead, I left the bar feeling sorry for her. I was feeling sorry for myself while hating my husband. Hating my husband didn’t make me feel better, just worse.

Miss Grace was a lonely old woman trying to relive her youth. She had no idea that Donald was my husband.

I went home to find Donald passed out on the sofa. I went to bed not bothering to cover him with a quilt like I always do.

I lay there thinking about my birthday next month. I couldn’t get that photo Nancy showed me out of my mind.

Clara would invite me over for cake. My favorite cake is chocolate and my favorite dessert is anything chocolate.

Donald’s favorite cake is white with strawberry filling and strawberry icing with fresh strawberries on top and that is what Clara will serve for my birthday.

Every year I was polite and would stay a couple of hours. Donald would spend the rest of the evening with his brothers while I would have chocolate cake and chocolate ice cream with my mother and family. Clara complained to Donald that I am antisocial because I left early; the same scenario every year.

I cried myself to sleep that night. Donald, who had a hangover, woke me up early the next morning demanding his breakfast.

My husband had no plausible explanation why his wedding band was not on his finger. He suddenly decided to catch breakfast on the way to work.

Later in the day Donald telephoned to claim that he left it on the sink in the construction trailer the day before when he was washing his hands and somebody stole it.

Until that night, I tried very hard to please my husband and be a good wife. I was polite and respectful to my mother-in-law. I pray Clara’s soul rests eternally in peace. The woman found fault with everything I did. Donald, the baby of the family could do no wrong.

I am not a confrontational woman. I have been described as a cheerful, friendly person, although I am secretly shy and admittedly passive. I go out of my way to please everybody. I was taught it is better to give than to receive. Clara was a lost cause.

I stopped talking to Donald and refused to sleep in the same bed with him. I cleaned our house and cooked Donald’s meals ahead of time for him to heat up.

Donald eventually figured it out. He confessed everything and begged me not to tell his mother.

In the end I didn’t. What would be the point?

My Mom would find out and it would break her heart. Clara would twist things around and put all the blame on me.

I would have kept my mouth shut, regardless. Donald tried to make it up to me. I continued to freeze him out and refused to talk to him.

Donald surprised me on my Birthday. He was gone when I got up. I noticed my old sedan was gone while I looked out the window waiting for the coffee pot to fill in the sink.

There was a brand new emerald green Toyota Tacoma four wheel drive pickup up truck in the driveway with happy birthday written on the windshield in soap.

I went outside to look. There was a birthday card on the seat. Inside the birthday card was the invoice of a cash sale with my name. The truck was loaded and it was paid for in full. Even the title was in my name.

Donald’s mother was livid he wasted money like that. Never mind the fact that Clara leased a new car every three years while Donald and I drove old model cars or trucks that were mechanically safe and sound but nothing to look at.

I have to give my ex-husband that. He was very handy with his hands and kept our vehicles in top mechanical shape.

Donald begged me not to leave him when he returned home from work that day. I promised him I wouldn’t. I also accepted his gift.

We celebrated my birthday with my family later in the day. Donald was polite and personable and didn’t leave early. We celebrated with Clara the next day.

I quit painting after that birthday because of Clara. The ensuing nagging about neglecting my housework and husband wasn’t worth it. Besides, I couldn’t trust Donald to keep his mouth shut if I continued to paint.

Knitting and crocheting was Clara’s thing. I gave in to keep the peace and learned to knit and crochet. If nothing else they kept my hands busy and that seemed to placate Clara some about my new truck.

I cooked and cleaned for Donald but I wouldn’t let him touch me. We slept in separate bedrooms and my sex life was non-existent. I was no longer interested in sex with him.

In retrospect, sex with Donald was terrible. It was always in the missionary position with his full weight pressing down on me. There was never foreplay or after-play and he immediately rolled over and went to sleep.

I was a virgin when we were married and didn’t know any better. I have something to compare it with now.

I turned to food for solace and gained weight. My size became a wall between us, as did the wall separating our bedrooms.

I suffered in silence…I lied to myself, hoping that things would get better and that my husband would stop drinking.

My weight gain and new frumpy look seemed to please Clara as much as the knitting and crocheting. Clara was always obese and in the end her weight was her demise. After that she was less critical of me.

I love being around people. I took the job to get away from the both of them.

Things did get better. The people I worked with appreciated what I did for them; my opinions mattered to them.

Donald’s drinking got worse after his mother died and his first DUI following soon after.


I concur with everything Chastity has said so far. Her ex- husband is a weak fool. Donald-dunce had a beautiful caring wife at home. From last reports Donald has signed up for AA, has found God and is a model inmate.

Chastity is mine. I am enjoying all of her wonderful womanly qualities including the slutty and sexy ones. Slutty in the sense of Chastity’s ability to totally surrender and give in to her inhibitions and enjoy all aspects of sex, light bondage included…slutty in a good way and only between us.

Slut is a term of endearment and only spoken in private. Master and slave are merely titles. We are much more than that. We are closer than most married couples can only hope to be and intimate as only this kind of relationship allows.

Chastity lives her life to please me. I live my life to treasure and protect her.

Chastity is sweet, intelligent and loyal. My little slut’s artistic abilities for painting and drawing are astounding. I am not one for empty praise. Chastity will attest to that.

I delight in just holding and kissing her. If you think I’m soft, tough shit. Where is it written that a dominant man should be cold, cruel and aloof?

Granted, Chastity is my beautiful submissive slave slut, but I won’t share Chastity with anyone now, not even with the Community to which I am a member.

Chastity secretly loves the attention of being put on display because it pleases me. At first she was embarrassed but now Chastity outshines them all. At the Community gatherings it is look but don’t touch…. unless it is with one of the women I have broken, as is my right.

I lament the fact that Chastity gave up painting for all those years. Chastity has a photographic memory for places she visits. I find it astounding that she can paint from memory and get all the details and colors so precisely.

My little slut delights in painting outdoor scenes. Chastity’s watercolors are magnificent and I encourage her to paint. There is a winter scene Chastity painted of an endless frozen lake with two people skating hand in hand. I’m enthralled with that watercolor painting. It now hangs in our bedroom.

Chastity remains my Masterpiece….mine.


I was initially hired as a receptionist with Wright Insurance and Securities. They are a small company employing twenty-five. My main job was to answer the telephone. I was to screen calls and take messages for everybody. I was also to bring coffee or lunch to Mr. Wright. I became Matthew’s personal secretary a year and a half later because of a costly mistake.

Among themselves, Mr. Wright’s employees refer to him as “the Major”, but never in front of Mary. In front of Mary it is always Mr. Wright and always in a respectful tone.

They joked that you towed the line and did things the Major’s way. If the Major makes a bad decision, the Major takes the blame. When you did what you were told and produced results, you were paid well. They recognized that team work and the Major’s way ensured good results.

As a matter of company policy, Mr. Wright personally does the hiring and firing. Matthew was out of town for two weeks when I was hired. Mary is unofficially in charge when the Major is away.

For some reason Mary took an instant liking to me. Normally, Mary is in charge of insurance claims.

I was one hour early for work my first day, and what an interesting conversation we had.

“Mr. Wright dislikes four things. We call them the four venial sins. First and foremost Mr. Wright detests a liar and that is grounds for termination. He hates late. Be punctual and show up for work early or at least on time.

Matt, I mean Mr. Wright hates disloyalty. What goes on in this organization stays in this organization. It also includes disloyalty to one another, such as gossip. That will not be tolerated.

Mr. Wright hates casual dress at work. Our building is comfortably climate controlled. Men will wear a suit and tie. Short hair and clean shaven are mandatory.

We girls will wear blouses, skirts or dresses. Long hair will be neatly pinned up off our necks. Look around to see what the other girls are wearing and dress accordingly. The more conservative and business like the better.

That is about it for now, Chastity. There is coffee, Danish and a fruit salad this morning. We are having a little get together for you to meet the staff. We are like a big family here. ”

Mary was right about the big family part with Matthew being the utterly charming and strict Patriarchal figure.

It was a nice little get together though. Everyone made me feel welcome. It is funny how you can sense that people like each other and enjoy working together.

Mary and I went into the bathroom together after my little get together.

“I have been working here since Matt graduated from college, Chastity. That was 16 years ago.

In those early years it was the two of us in a small store front office. It was hot in the summer and cold in the winter; we were on a shoe string budget. Eventually when he could afford it, we bought a new furnace and air conditioner.

I knew him before that. Matt and I go way back.”

“That would make Mr. Wright forty now, “I said.

“Close, Mr. Wright is thirty-nine. I am in charge when he is away with the Reserves. Changing the subject; you may have noticed all the girls here have long hair.”

There were 9 women working here. Five were married, three were single and one engaged. I wondered why all the women had long hair and why their hair was pinned up in different style buns. I found it odd that none of them wore their hair down.

My hair was styled in a short wedge cut on my first day. It was a hairstyle made popular by Dorothy Hamill the Olympic Skating Champion from the seventies. I love to ice skate and winter is one of my favorite times of year; especially around Christmas.

“We girls have a little contest among ourselves if you get my meaning,” Mary advised as she took her silver hair down, “I have the longest hair of all the girls here.”

Mary’s silver hair is very long. It is waist length and blunt cut straight across the bottom. She always refers to the women working here as girls and it is proper considering Mary was in her sixties on my first day.

Mary also had a trim but full figure with a surprisingly youthful and fit appearance. Only one other woman here is the least bit overweight. Needless to say I was self-conscious about my weight. Between that and my hair, I stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Therefore I am one of the judges. Mr. Wright is the other and he looks forward to it every year. There is a cash prize involved. The men have a contest of their own. It is a guy thing and they don’t talk about it. We aren’t allowed at theirs or them at ours.

Before you go home today I will give you my stylist’s business card. Susan is the best and specializes in long hair. Have you ever had long hair, Chastity?” Mary asked as she started to brush her thick, soft hair; getting ready to put it up in a bun again.

I really wanted to fit in and make a good impression, “Would you like me to brush it for you, Mary?”

“That would be lovely, Chastity. Thank you for asking. We girls must stick together you know. All of us here trade our long hair secrets and a few of us get together after work to try out different styles.

Mary’s hair actually felt good in my hands. It was soft and thick, obviously well cared for, and oh so long and silky.

I’ve never touched or played with another woman’s hair like this before. The experience was pleasurable bordering on erotic….make that totally erotic for both of us. Mary’s eyes were closed. She was smiling and enjoying it. I was stroking Mary’s hair as I brushed it. I couldn’t help myself. It felt so good between my fingers, so silky and soft. For the first time in my life I wished mine was longer.

“No, while I was growing up my mother always kept our hair in short curly perms. Mom hates long straight hair on women or girls. I never considered growing it long. My husband has not expressed an opinion one way or the other about my hair. I keep my hair short because it is convenient.”

“It is your choice, dear. You do look cute in that style…. just consider it a friendly suggestion.”

Everyone here seemed so nice and the pay was good. Nevertheless I was a little apprehensive about meeting Mr. Wright. I didn’t want to let Mary down. Mary stuck her neck out when she hired me.

Perhaps I was a little scared. Mary warned me that Mr. Wright was strict and unyielding. His instructions were precise to the point and must be followed as he gave them.

I handed Mary the hairpins one-by- one as she put her hair back up in a sort of figure-eight bun while she explained step-by-step how it was done.

When Mary pinned up her hair to her satisfaction, “Mr. Wright is a much disciplined man, Chastity. He is a Major in the Army Reserves. He has also seen combat.

Granted, he can be intense at times, however he is a fair man.
Always forward telephone calls from his family, and especially from his sister or nephew.”

Despite everything I was told about him, my initial apprehension was unfounded. Yes, Matthew can be intense and intimidating but there was something about him that made me want to please him. He was very charming the first morning I met him.

I found out months later that Mr. Wright takes very good care of his people. Loyalty works both ways with him. I helped him with the arrangements after John Dryer’s wife had a miscarriage.

I also took Mary’s advice about what the other girls were wearing. I was surprised to observe that many were not wearing pantyhose but stockings and a garter instead. It made sense, especially when they went to the ladies room. They didn’t have to struggle pulling the pantyhose up and down. Mary was one of them.


I had been working for Wright Insurance and Securities for eleven days when Mr. Wright returned from his trip. I was quite proud of myself; I was on a diet and had lost ten pounds.

My husband was laid off again…oh well, that’s the nature of construction. I was working 40 hours a week. I was buying our groceries and putting money aside for a new wardrobe.

Donald didn’t like the fact that I was bringing home a paycheck and neither did his mother. He wanted a stay at home wife to ignore, having gone back to his old ways.

I was still cooking his meals ahead of time, things that he liked. I was eating lots of fruits, vegetables and nuts; he called it rabbit food. I didn’t force him to eat it. There was no junk food in the house. He complained about that. I rewarded myself with one small piece of dark chocolate every other day. Donald hates dark chocolate.

That morning, I stacked all of his papers and correspondence neatly on the front left side of Mr. Wright’s desk along with an insulated carafe of ice water in preparation for the daily morning meeting. Mary gave me four pages of cheat sheets on my second day and I memorized verbatim.

I knew what Mr. Wright looked like. He was so handsome to almost being pretty. That was balanced out by his ramrod straight posture, his high and tight military haircut and his piercing green eyes. I have never met a man with green eyes until Matthew. They are like hot green flames when he looks at me and I just melt.

He has an entire wall in his office full of photographs of him with his family. One photo in particular stood out among the rest.

Matthew was at his parent’s lake house two summers ago when his nephew Adam was three years old. He was fishing with Adam at the dock and Adam had just caught a fish. He was holding it up for Uncle Matt to see.

It was obvious that Adam was proud and excited about that small sunfish, as if Adam had just caught the Loch Ness Monster.

What was more obvious was how much Matthew loved his nephew….the pride and the love was there on my Matthew’s handsome face.

Adam sent a postcard from Florida while the family was on vacation. It was in the stack of mail.

He would be starting Kindergarten in the fall and was very excited about the prospect. At five years of age Adam actually wrote it out himself and explained in the postcard he sent two of the same postcards, the other to his Uncle’s house to cover all the contingencies.

That is one of Matthew’s expression; “cover all contingencies and then go back and recheck the ones you might have overlooked.”

As a rule, the morning meetings are short, no more than 10 minutes in duration. I am told it is to insure everyone is at work on time. I think it is an inspection of sorts.

Matthew went to college on a military scholarship. He was away at Fort Drum for winter maneuvers when I was hired.

As another rule, he meets with his people as needed privately throughout the day. I sat in my assigned chair on the right side of his desk with my note pad waiting for him to arrive.

His desk is the centerpiece of the office. It was an antique made of the native teak. It was nine feet long and four feet wide. The hardware is all blackened iron and there are eight heavy iron rings on the sides.

At first I assumed they were decorations, however, on closer inspection, I realized they would also serve as handles to move the massive desk. The desk once belonged to a British Colonel stationed in India at the turn of the century. How Matthew acquired it is a story in itself.


“Baby face”…that was my first impression of Chastity when I walked into my office to find her waiting nervously with her legs crossed. I was greeted by a very pretty blonde woman with a baby face and striking blue eyes; eyes the color of deep blue sapphires.

I was thinking, ‘Chastity what an interesting name for a woman ….Chastity sucking on my cock or being fucked in the ass.’

Chastity bound and kneeling at my feet. What a delicious blonde morsel when I whipped her in to shape.’

I trust Mary’s judgment. I knew that Mary took an instant liking to Chastity and Mary has good instincts.

I have broken down the inhibitions of many strong assertive women and turned them into submissive sluts. They were then passed on to members of the Community for a handsome fee.

I will borrow them from time to time. They will be used for my pleasure and then will beg for more. If they please me I might take them home for the weekend.

Breaking a strong, independent woman is always pleasurable and satisfying. Unfortunately afterward, they need a strong hand and constant discipline and a cold aloof dominant for them to remain compliant.

Any sign of affection or weakness breeds contempt with most of them. Their type of personality responds best to harsh and humiliating discipline to keep them from backsliding.

Naturally passive women are best in my opinion. They respond well to dominants’ because it is in their very nature.

They tend to be more complicated.

Broken down gradually, the passive woman responds well to affection and positive reinforcement discipline. They become comfortable with their passivity when it is constantly reinforced or redirected and then reward with honest praise.

In my experience passive women tend to be less analytical and more creative and imaginative. They are more willing to try different things without strong coercion or threats of punishment.

Once properly broken, the passive woman will go out of her way to please you, particularly if she feels wanted and is appreciated for her total submission.

Firm but fair discipline is crucial so that the passive woman’s natural inhibitions are redirected to be pleasurable. This type of personality thrives on security, acceptance and loving affection.

They tend to be shy. Shy but not withdrawn is particularly desirable, especially with the intelligent ones. I am not talking specifically about book learning or a formal college education. They are both desirable but not necessary.

But I’m getting off point. I was thinking, ‘Something must be done about Chastity’s hair. It is girlishly cute when it could be long and sexy. With long hair Chastity can be cute as well as sultry and sexy.

I imagined Chastity with pigtails; braided pigtails or loose pigtails would be cute with Chastity’s baby face. A ponytail would be cute on her; just add the right makeup, some curls and the ponytail becomes sexy as hell.

Long unbound hair framing Chastity’s face will be sultry and sexy; particularly when it falls over her face while Chastity is kneeling at my feet and looking up at me with her peek-a-boo deep sapphire blue eyes.

Last but not least, I imagined Chastity with her long honey blond hair worn up in a bun or french twist; bound, confined and tamed into shape, the sign of a submissive woman.

I also imagined her with a simple long braid; the three strand braid or a slave braid down her back caressing her ass cheeks, another reminder of a woman’s submission.

All the women in my organization comply. The generous prize money involved is meaningless to me. It is a matter of control enforced with dominance followed by compliance to be rewarded by loyalty.

There is also an incentive for the men as well. Call it a yearly bonus for both.

Wealth not well spent is the futility of one’s mortality. One might as well cast stones against the wind. I am speaking in general now. Dying with the most toys but not sharing them is still dead.

I am sure most of the husbands and boyfriends of my female employees approve of their woman’s long hair....assuming they know what to do with it.

A submissive woman will grow her hair and keep it long for her man, or she will cut it short…in submission. If their husband’s or boy friend’s preference are for short hair, tough shit…not while their woman works for me.

I have a knack for ferreting out these types of submissive women; there are no other Alpha males in my organization. The women in my organization are the type I prefer….money well spent.


“You must be Chastity,” Matthew said as he walked into his office and closed the door behind him. He then offered me his hand and helped me out the chair.

“Oh my God, he is gorgeous,’ I thought as he kissed my hand, ‘nobody has ever kissed my hand before.’

“I just talked to Mary and she is very pleased with your work. She and I go way back and I value her opinion. But my manners, won’t you please sit down?” he asked smiling, and when I did, “How do you like working here so far?”

We sat for a half hour talking about me. His green eyes were mesmerizing. I was lost in them as I answered his questions.

Finally he said, “Well, I can see why Mary hired you. I had my doubts about your lack of work experience, but your enthusiasm and positive attitude more than makes up for it.

Thank you, Mr. Wright. I promise that I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t…… now down to business. I have a lot of work to catch up on plus all this mail,” he said looking at the postcard and smiling with the same look on his face as in the photo.

“Sushi for lunch, do you know where to get it?”

“Yes, Mary left me with instructions. Park on the east end of the building of the Sushi Bar on Arsenal Street in the spot reserved for the owner. Tilt my rear view mirror all the way to the right so that they know that you sent me. Remember to bring the small green cooler and fill it with ice.

You want six of salmon, four of octopus, six of smoked eel and three mackerel. The wasabi must be freshly made as must the double ginger. Your credit card is on file and I will sign my name and bring back the receipt.”

“Very good, Chastity.”

“Do you want fresh squeezed orange juice, or mixed pink and yellow grapefruit juice from the drive-through juice bar on the way? You may also request low sodium tomato juice, no sugar added cranberry or white or red grape juice.

They all are in glass bottles, never plastic or cans, in the refrigerator in the break room. You require fresh ice water on your desk at all times.

“Grapefruit juice and ice water will be fine.”

“I am to hold all telephone calls and messages while you eat as business can wait; emergencies aside of course. You will take telephone calls from your sister and nephew.”

I am impressed, Chastity. Welcome to the team. Mary has prepared you well considering you have only been with us eleven days. Did Mary give you a list to memorize?”

“Yes, ask me any question.”

“Later, perhaps. We have the morning meeting to attend to.”


I had been working there for eighteen months. I absolutely loved my job and the people there. I went out of my way to make myself indispensable to everyone and I received my first raise.

Nothing had changed much between Donald and me; it was status quo, but he was back to work and dead tired from all the overtime that he was working. Donald was eating his meals home at the dinner table and then drinking himself to sleep on the couch while watching television.

I had lost weight and was down to one hundred thirty-five pounds.

My hair was growing out nicely under the care of my new stylist, Susan Banner. She was amazed how fast it had grown in the past eighteen months. I attribute it to my vegetarian diet, vitamins and exercise.

My bangs were gone and Susan cuts it precisely straight across the bottom. It now just touched my shoulders. I wear it up in an elegant french twist or in a small bun at work.

I was dressing better than ever, including makeup when I leave the house. I was finally doing something for myself….well maybe a little bit for Matthew.

Ok, I admit it. There was some harmless flirting going on behind his office door. I liked touching him, but no sexual touching was going on. My hand might linger on his or his on mine when I handed him something.

In time, it became a silent game with us to see if he noticed any little change in my appearance.

He noticed everything. From the slightest change in my eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, blush, lipstick or lip liner….everything.

To say that I was flattered is an understatement. It is very gratifying that a handsome single man was noticing me. After 12 years of marriage my husband couldn’t answer what my favorite color is let alone the color of my eyes.

Green is my favorite color…..however Donald is my husband for better or for worse and I must not forget that.


Matthew was away again on Reserve training when I met with Mary in his office on Tuesday morning. I could tell from the look on her face that I had done something wrong or made a costly mistake.

“Did you send both copies of the Johnson papers on a registered and overnight mail on Friday? The Johnson paperwork is time sensitive. We need the postmarked receipts. Do you have the receipts?”

‘Oh my God, I thought panicking, ‘I left them in my truck in the storage box between the bucket seats. I was wrapped up in the office baby shower that I organized for Marcy that day. I picked up the balloons first instead of going right to the Post Office, and I found the most darling wrapping paper for the baby sweater I knitted for Marcy, and I…….’

Mary must have seen the look on my face, and interrupted my thoughts, “You forgot, didn’t you,” and I nodded my head wondering in how much trouble I was.

“Where are they now, Chastity?”

“They are locked in my truck. I am sorry, Mary. I was so wrapped up in Marcy’s baby shower last week I forgot to mail them. “

“That’s not like you, Chastity. You are so consciences. You know our motto here; cover all contingencies and then go back and recheck the ones you might have overlooked.

I’ll telephone and tell them they are on their way. You leave right now and mail them. We are going to take one hell of a financial hit and Matt is going to be angry when he finds out.”


“When I returned, I met again with Mary in Matthew’s office and she didn’t look happy.

“I made the call and couldn’t get anywhere with them. It’s a good thing that Matt holds the rank of Major. I was able to get through to Matt. He then telephoned them directly.

“What did he say? Is Mr. Wright going to fire me?”

“I doubt it, but he is angry and frustrated. Matt told me that he is very disappointed with you.”

Hearing Mary say that Matthew was disappointed in me hurt and upset me more than anything. I wanted his approval and there was talk that after the Johnson deal went through Matthew was considering hiring a personal secretary. I wanted that job and now I blew it.

Mary continued, “Matt will be back Sunday afternoon around 3:00 PM. He wants to see you in his office. He should be calm my then. He mentioned something about discipline and duty. If you want to save your job do exactly as you are told.

There is one other thing, Chastity. Nobody knows yet so let’s keep it that way. Don’t say anything about this to anybody.”


I made Donald a nice breakfast Sunday morning. He and his brothers would be going to the football game and leaving around one in the afternoon to be there for the 4:00 o’clock kickoff. Most likely they wouldn’t be home until around midnight or later.

Donald’s brother Mark would be the designated driver. If only Donald could be more like his brothers and not his father.

Donald will come home drunk as usual and then go right to bed. He is working double shifts taking advantage of the overtime and Sundays are his only days off.

After breakfast I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon getting ready. I spent extra time with my hair, curling it like Mary showed me before putting it up in a loose curly bun.

I made sure that my makeup was perfect before I left the house. Mary gave me a key so that I could get into the building. I was an hour early waiting in my chair on the right side of Matthew’s desk when he walked in.


I was angry with Chastity at first and then disappointed. Chastity’s mistake was an expensive proposition. I could absorb it of course. It was a careless mistake but not intentional. Chastity’s intentions are always good.

From a woman’s standpoint the baby shower was lovely.

However, the baby shower was not an excuse for dereliction of her job duties. I find this aspect of Chastity, Chastity’s thoughtful and kind, generous ways delightful. I weighed that against her mistake. In this Chastity is so much like my sister, Laura. They both try so very hard to please.

I also weighed the fact when she is alone with me, Chastity flirts so nicely.

I decided to turn this unfortunate incident into an opportunity. I would move to the next logical step. I thought about it in detail. I explored all contingencies and went back to explore those I might have missed.

If my instincts are right about Chastity the money can be damned. I’ll take the blame if it comes to it and it can be blended into the books. Nobody will know but the three of us. I know I can count on Mary to be discrete….we go way back.

I will dangle a carrot in front of my little soon to be personal secretary and see what happens.


Matthew walked into the office and locked the door behind him. There was no need because nobody else was in the building. Matthew never locks his office door.

He hadn’t bothered to change out of his uniform. He was dressed in his camouflage fatigues. His green eyes were like hot green flames. Matthew was scowling as he stared at me, shaking his head. I sat with my hands folded on my notepad.

I was afraid to meet his eyes and I was nervous.

Matthew went to his desk and sat down. He looked through his mail, ignoring me for the moment. How I wished there was a letter from his nephew, he looked forward to those.

I felt very small and helpless sitting there….waiting for him to speak.

Finally he did. Matthew stood and offered me his hand as he always did to help me up from my chair when I was ready to leave his office.

He then let go of my hand and picked up the chair to toss it to one side, barking, “Stand up straight and look straight ahead. Don’t move and only speak when spoken to.” He had never used that commanding tone with me before.

I did and Matthew took my pencil and notebook and tossed them on his desk. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as he leaned close and whispered, “I’m very disappointed in you, Chastity.

I have many women serving under me in the Reserves. What you did here is the equivalent in the Army of dereliction of duty. Woman or man, that soldier would be reprimanded and could be punished severely for such an offense.

Their conduct reflects on their Commanding Officer. Your conduct here reflects on me and the people you work with.

We are a team here. What do you have to say for yourself, Chastity?”

“Please don’t fire me Mr. Wright. I promise to pay back all the money.

“You have no idea how much money that is, do you? Or how long it would take to pay me back?”

“No, but you can take 25% of my pay until I do.”

Matthew walked behind me and whispered the amount in my ear. I could feel his hot breath on my face as he kissed the side of my neck. He lingered there, his handsome face pressed against mine. I had butterflies in my stomach and not because of the money.

“I have something else in mind but I need to think it through,” Mathew said quietly, standing straight to run his fingers through the curls in my bun, “Something that will be beneficial to the both of us.

Despite your mistake, Mary and I agree you are a valuable employee and an asset to the organization as a whole.

Mary thinks the world of you, Chastity, as I am sure you do of her,” Matthew continued to play with my hair; “You are our unofficial good will ambassador and organizer of cheer.

The baby shower you hosted for Marcy was as Mary put it, “was a lovely gesture”, and I will be the first to admit that you can’t put a monetary value on those things. However, mail outs are part of your job.”

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry, Mr. Wright.”

“The logical thing for me to do would be to make you my personal secretary. But that would mean that I would have to absorb the cost out of my own pocket to cover the shortfall. I will look like a fool if I do otherwise and give you that position.

You don’t want me to look like a fool, do you, Chastity?” Matthew asked while taking the pins out of my bun so that my thick blonde curls danced about my face and shoulders….what was he doing?

“No, Sir. Thank you for giving me a second chance,” I answered relieved that I wasn’t being fired. His hands felt good in my hair.

“I will have to think about it and work out the details. There are many ways besides money to pay for mistakes.

The only thing for certain is that I will demand your absolute obedience without question. I will educate you my methods.

I will teach you focus and discipline so that nothing like this happens again. Are you up for that?”

“Yes, anything you say, Mr. Wright.”

“Excellent, we will start with discipline. I want you to stand in the corner by the jade plant and face the wall. Do you have your watch on?”

“Yes, but….”

“There will be no but, Chastity!” he barked, tugging at my curls lightly and then holding my hair to walk me there.

“This office has its own set of hidden fiber optic security cameras. Mary and I are the only ones who know about them and now so do you. The jade plant is covering the floor safe, another secret. You are going to stand here

I’m telling you this because despite everything, I feel I can trust you.

I’m exhausted from worrying about this affair, exacerbated by two weeks of maneuvers and not being able to do anything about it hands on.

I am going to take a nap to clear my mind. When I awake, you will have my final decision. You are going to stand here on this spot and wake me in two hours.


I stood there wondering what if? My imagination was running a bit wild. What would it be like to make love to him? He is so imposing and commanding. He had his hands in my hair so familiarly, taking it down and playing with my curls.

Matthew kissed my neck and…and I was certain he was going to kiss my lips. Did I want him to kiss my lips…? I’m a married woman.

As I was thinking I kept checking my watch. Soon it was only five minutes to go. He wouldn’t be angry for five minutes would he? I turned to look.

He looked peaceful sleeping there. I was wondering what he was dreaming about? Is he dreaming about me? I have erotic dreams about Matthew all the time. I don’t know where I get such subliminal ideas.

In one of my dreams I am with Matthew in an infinitely endless sunlight lit meadow. There are wildflowers of every variety and color as far as the eye can see decorating a carpet of four leaf clovers.

We were sitting underneath a huge apple tree beside a sparkling brook flowing with the coldest, pristine and clear water imaginable. The fruit of those blood red apples were hard and crisp and as sweet as honey. We were gloriously happy and content…we had everything we needed.

Matthew was wearing blue jeans with a white tee shirt and was barefoot. He was resting his back against the trunk of the apple tree.

I was lying beside him, naked, save for a fine sterling silver chain around my neck. My head was resting in his lap and he was running his fingers through my hair.

This was a reoccurring dream, one of many. In this dream he would get up and disappear into the meadow. Somehow when I tried to follow him, the silver chain would not let me past the safe and sheltering boundary of the tree’s shading branches. Matthew would always return to make love to me.

In another dream, Matthew and I were skating inside of a planet size dome cut from a brilliant blue white diamond; we were inside of a magical musical snow globe of shooting stars is the best way to describe it.

We were dancing on skates; dancing like figure skaters on the flat surface of a sparkling green emerald. We were gliding effortlessly under a moonlit sky of shooting stars to the music of unseen pixies and winged fairies

Such were some of my sleeping dreams about being with him. I kept my mind busy recalling them while I waited in the corner by the jade plant. I passed the time remembering dreams as I day dreamed about being with him.


Chastity’s creativity and imagination was suffocated in that marriage. Her sexuality was being stifled and dulled because of her husband’s lack of manhood and attention.

Fortunately, the fairies and angels of her dreams were the oxygen of her precious soul.


I touched his handsome face for the first time, letting my hand linger there, “Mr. Wright. It’s time to get up.”

Matthew opened his green eyes and looked at me, sighing. There was no longer any anger in them. He took my hand and kissed my palm.

“Did you do exactly as you were told, Chastity? Or did you get curious and turn to look?” and I was thinking, ‘How could he possibly know that?’ But I answered truthfully because he hates a liar.

“I was in the corner but turned to watch you sleep for the last five minutes,” I answered, looking down.

“We will be working very closely together and you will be required to work longer hours, Chastity. There will be some travel involved during the week. You will be making more money of course.

Therefore you will learn to hold position and do exactly as you are told. I will be a hard taskmaster until you learn to comply and know my mind. It will be for your own good.”
He let go of my hand to stand and stretch.

“Do you still want the job?”

“More than anything, Mr. Wright,” and he still had not commented about the five minutes.

“More than anything, Chastity?”

“Yes, and I owe you five minutes in the corner,” I answered trying to guess what was on Matthew’s mind.

“Excellent. Put your hands behind your back and cross your wrists. Very good, now go back to your corner,” he pointed.

I put my hands behind my back and nodded my head in acknowledgement. Mathew followed me to the corner.

“Embarrassment is always a good teacher, Chastity,” he explained while arranging my curls forward so they partially covered my face.

“There perfect. You are a pretty woman, Chastity, with the great potential to be a very beautiful one. Nevertheless you will not question my methods.”

“I will not question your methods, Mr. Wright” I repeated, smiling. He said I was a pretty woman. This is like our flirting game taken to the next level.

Matthew took my crossed wrists and held them in place in one of his much larger hands. “This is the second time you have guessed my mind, Chastity, excellent.

I have one small task for you this afternoon. I want you to go to Genesee Hardware on Ellicott Street. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes, Mr. Wright.”

“When you get there you will go through the second door on the left. It is the one

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