Prologue

March 19, 1991

 

Victoria was sick all morning. The baby had dropped, and it was like she couldn't pass a bathroom without peeing. Victoria's back was twisting one way or the other and in need of a massage. The wind was blowing; it was colder than forecast. Why was she surprised? It was March in Louisville. She had to sit down, or she would fall. As she sat, her water broke; no matter what, her baby was coming soon. She kept asking herself, how was she doing this alone? Damn you, Jeremy.

Victoria doubled over in pain and screamed, "Oh Shit!" Two ladies came running out of the restaurant and kneeled over her. Is your baby coming now? She asked. Victoria screamed at her, "If not, this will be a world record fart. Please call nine-one-one now!" She heard the ambulance siren and smiled; I'm sorry, I never talk like that. My husband is dead, I'm having a baby, and I don't have any place to live or a job."

Another pain slammed her down on the ground. "We need to get her to the ER," said the lady named Joan.

"Pull your car around here," her sister Mary said. "I'll stay with her."

Another labor pain doubled Victoria over, "Oh my God, I am going to die!"

"No, you're not," Mary told her. "Millions of women have given birth without dying."

Joan pulled the car up. Mary helped Victoria into the back seat and climbed in after her. Joan stomped on the gas and took off for the hospital.

Victoria screamed and arched her back, "It's coming."

"We're almost there, honey, hang on," Mary encouraged her. "Don't push; take deep breaths, honey. Your baby's gonna be a beautiful child."

"How do you know?" Victoria asked.

"Oh honey, look in the mirror," she said, smiling.

Joan pulled into the hospital, found the ER entrance, and pulled up to the doors. Jumping out, she ran into the entrance and grabbed a wheelchair. Rolling it outside her back door, she helped Mary get Victoria into the wheelchair and trundled her into the ER.

The nurses relieved them of Victoria and wheeled her into an examining room. Three minutes later, a doctor arrived and disappeared into Victoria's examining room. A nurse came out, and Joan asked if everything was Ok. The Nurse said she was in excellent hands, and they would be aunts in a few brief minutes. They looked at each other and giggled. They were going to help Victoria, but it couldn't seem like charity.

Vanessa Rae Brown was born at 5:30 PM on March 19, 1991; her mother celebrated her arrival with the two ladies who helped her get to the hospital. Joan and Mary entered the room at 7:00 PM with flowers, candy, and bottled water. They hugged Victoria, and each held Vanessa for about five minutes before handing her back to Victoria.

Joan waited until the Nurse returned Vanessa to the Nursery, then took hold of Victoria's hand and began the offer. An offer that saved both Vanessa and her mother. "You don't know us, but we can and want to help you and Vanessa. My name is Joan Peoples, and this is my sister Mary. We have an enormous house with plenty of room, and we're rehabbing it for a profit. We'd be willing to have you live there, for the next year or until we sell it. You would cook, keep the kitchen clean and sanitary, and do our laundry. Handle the baby with our help. The house will sell for three hundred fifty thousand dollars less than our cost. The three of us share the profits equally; one-third each. Our expenses include the utilities, food, interest on our renovation loan, and any costs incurred for the baby. I understand we are strangers, and if you've made other arrangements, we accept you want to stand on your own. Otherwise, we need you as much as you need us. Neither of us can cook, and our laundry is always behind.

Victoria looked from one to the other, and tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She swallowed hard and gulped in some air, took a deep breath, and talked.

"I am alone. My parents and my husband are dead. I didn't have any options going forward because my base housing ran out two weeks ago, and I got an extension until the baby was born. I can get a job, but my baby's care is essential to me. If I accept your offer, there is one more thing I can do for you. I am an accountant, and I have my degree from U of K. I can do your books, make you legal, file your reports and returns. If that is acceptable to you, you have a deal and two new members of your family, and I will always be in your debt."

"Honey, you'll earn your way. Mary and I will have a niece to spoil at Christmas, and we'll both delight in your child." Mary had tears in her eyes as she spoke her heart to Victoria. "Victoria, I had given up having children a long time ago. You will bring joy to us wherever we go." They hugged each other. Joan gave Victoria their construction line phone number, and Victoria said she would call them when discharged.

As the sisters left the hospital, Mary turned to Joan and said, "You want to bet where we're going now? To get baby stuff and furniture." Joan had a big grin on her face, and her heart sang with joy. Her family was expanding twice its size. She was also going to buy earplugs. No matter how good the baby might be. They cried loud when they needed attention or food.

During Vanessa's first five years, the family moved to six different homes. They bought them from whoever held the title, rehab them, and sold the house for a profit of between sixty and seventy thousand dollars. They had no mortgage or rent because they lived where they worked. Each house provided utilities, meals and a roof over their heads. Then, one day, Victoria called a meeting.

"Today is our fifth anniversary as a family, and Vanessa will reach school age this fall," she began. "I need to find a permanent home for Vanessa and me. I finally received my Death Benefit Check. It's for one hundred thousand dollars, but I would prefer we all continue to live together; however, I understand if you wish to dissolve our arrangement."

Mary and Joan looked at each other and smiled in a way they always did when they were one or even two steps ahead of Victoria. Joan handed Victoria an envelope containing a picture of a house about three blocks from the best school in Louisville; it overlooked a golf course and was in a gated community. It would require rehab, but not so much they couldn't live in it while they finished. They each had more than enough money to split the closing three ways. Victoria smiled broadly, too; her dream and her family were intact. 1996 would end on a high note, and Vanessa would be in one place her whole life.

As Vanessa grew, she was a cute little girl. Her raven hair, gray eyes and tanned complexion caused people to turn and stare. She was enthusiastic, with a ready smile for everyone, well-mannered, and always learning. Victoria was aware Vanessa was intelligent. She had her tested when she turned six. The Superintendent accompanied Vanessa's teacher when Victoria came to the conference to discuss her results. Victoria thought her analysis of Vanessa's intellect was incorrect and asked why the Superintendent was in attendance. The teacher told her that in the entire history of the School District, no one had achieved Vanessa's results. Vanessa's IQ was 174. The meeting lasted two hours, and they drew up a game plan.

The School District would support an advanced program besides her standard curriculum. Victoria was adamant, though; nothing would interfere with her social interaction. Friends were an essential element in Child development. When Vanessa was seven, Victoria enrolled her in self-defense classes. The instruction ranged from basic striking protection to advanced judo, jujitsu and karate. Initially, Vanessa was unenthusiastic about self-defense. Everyone liked her, and when someone picked on her, she had several protectors rush to her defense. Elementary school was a breeze for Vanessa, and she was studying algebra and geometry with teachers in the High School.

When she was in fifth grade, she was walking home after soccer practice with some friends, and a bunch of older high school boys decided it would be fun to strip the soccer uniforms off these girls and send them running naked. As they approached, a police car pulled up and suggested the boys find another form of entertainment. He told the girls he would follow them home. And when Vanessa ran in the door breathless and frightened. Victoria asked why she was so upset?

Vanessa looked at her mom wild-eyed and said, "You were right, mom."

"Really?" her mother replied. "That happens so rarely these days; I am waiting with bated breath to find out about what I was right."

Vanessa put her hands on her hips and responded sarcastically in return, "You're just so funny, NOT! You've been pushing me about the self-defense lessons. Tonight, I understand what you've been trying to tell me. I could have been in real trouble walking home tonight."

"So, does that mean you're going to quit wasting my money and pay attention to your instructors?" Victoria asked.

"Yes, mom," Vanessa answered with a whiney voice.

"Well, I guess we'll see," Victoria responded.

Vanessa grew to be a young lady at thirteen. She had beautiful raven hair, gray eyes, and bronzed complexion, along with her intellect, intuition and indomitable spirit. Seldom would she settle for second place. Vanessa finished first in the Karate Class. She was always the one in the middle as they took turns trying to outpoint her. Her future was being marked in Louisville. She became well known, both socially and politically.

Fate, however, is a subtle and crafty mistress. She has a way of making sure her game plan takes place. Vanessa's destiny included a remarkable life and true love. Her status quo must change. Joan died during Vanessa's freshman year, and Mary followed six months later. Vanessa would need the remaining time to grow. Her mother would have to adapt; Vanessa had so much to learn. She would never meet her one true love until she left Louisville. Vanessa would never leave Louisville if her support team remained in place. She would never experience the joys of a submissive life and learn to be a dominant professional woman and a submissive lover in Louisville. Her children would never be born, and her grandchildren would never carry on the legacy. Vanessa Brown's life will be complete. From submissive lover to astute Clinical Psychologist, she will forge a path through business, parenthood, danger, adventure and life-altering moments. She will flourish as a lover, wife and mother and build a remarkable legacy in her later years. She will struggle to trust, and submission will be her safe harbor.

Few people will affect so many and create a professional and personal tower of power while maintaining her love's submissive persona. Vanessa is a dichotomy. Not only for those who misunderstand; but also for those who lack the vision to succeed. She will discover the why of her lifestyle and the reason for her being. Her children will love her, reject her, despise her and worship her all in the same lifetime. Her grandchildren will grow to hate her and then create monuments to her memory. Vanessa Brown is an enigma of being worshipped, while feared and adored. She is about to begin her remarkable life. Will she realize what she seeks, or does Vanessa even understand where to look?

 

Chapter One

 

Jerome Mahoney pulled into the parking lot of the office building and chose a spot near the back. He would reread his grandfather's journal one more time to make sure he understood what he needed to do.

My boys didn't enjoy driving on Route 33, especially when they had to go through the little towns with one or two traffic lights. I chose each of those drivers for the five trucks specifically for this run. They had experience. Each was a leader of a specific Ohio Gang. They had learned they couldn't allow their foot to slip from the brake or press the accelerator past a certain point. There were no headlights even in the gray light of the Ohio night; they only had the filtered moonlight to see the unexpected stop or unremembered curve.

I was in the lead truck. We were about a half-mile away from the dock. I had ordered a forty-four-foot tug; there would be no crew; Theo and I were the ones. I was controlling everything. I had placed a gun in the Glove Box; I reached in a pulled the gun out. I sprang the magazine, checked the ammunition, and cracked the heavy steel back into the chamber.

I played here as a boy. I swam in the lake, ran through the fields, and dried off in the pastures. The trucks pulled into the warehouse, about 200 feet from the loading area. Each driver pulled up to the dock, locked his door, and set the special alarms they all had on their vehicles. The former gang bosses then grabbed a two-wheel dolly and started unloading their trucks onto the tug. When finished, they all climbed on board the boat.

The white shaft of the moon shone on the tug and barge. I told my brother to pull up to the red buoy; the moonlight would be enough for them to see. I had posted lookouts on each road, in or out. I am not worried; all traces will disappear in an hour. We began our slow path over the water. I told them where to stop each time and recorded the Lat/Long location on the back page so you would find it. I paid off all the police, so they stayed away.

I called all the drivers, and they gathered in a semicircle facing me. They had each received a million dollars. I answered their questions. As I had planned, the oldest and most respected of the drivers asked the two best questions. "Boss, what can I say? You have made us wealthy beyond our dreams. But how do we stay safe, and what about income tax?"

I told them these were the last two questions I would answer. Question two first: when you return home, you will find a letter from my corporation. Attached to that letter will be an Employee Withholding form showing you made one million dollars as commission and paid the correct taxes, based on your family. As to your first question, I raised the gun and shot myself in the head. My brother Theo told them to leave immediately by separate routes. He would bring their directions to them when they got in their trucks. Theo came by, handed each of them the envelope, and while he climbed down from the cab, he flipped a switch on the back of the driver's side, starting a 30-minute timer. It connected the timer to explosives located underneath the cab and the gas tank. He told them not to stop but to get home to their families, so they had an alibi. I assume they did as they were told, and the trucks blew up 30 minutes from when they left.

When they had gone, I stood up and wiped the pig's blood off my face and neck. Theo and I cleaned up the tug of any evidence and pushed the barge into the storage area. I am finishing writing this so I can give it to my lawyer waiting on the dock. I will shoot Theo and myself. There will be no witnesses.

Whoever you are, you are my descendent, and you have inherited a fortune. The Law Firm has given you the journal and the map with the coordinates. All you have to do is recover the welded boxes, and the large welded container. I don't know how much it will be worth, but there are ninety, one-hundred-pound-boxes, plus the chest which weighs over three hundred pounds. That's all I have to say. This caper is payback for all the cops did to me. Raise Hell!

I lay alone in my empty bed, sheltering the memories that joined me there. Five years ago, my life changed. I became my destiny without understanding it was happening. Now my future was mine alone to manifest. Five years later, I just want to lie here to recall and remember our journey, my love.

Five years ago.

The air was fresher with the flowers he had provided. The wine and champagne tasted like the best because he bought them. I'm referring to Peter. Yes, he was a man and distinctively so. He didn't need the trappings that go with other successful Doctors. I see them in their Porsche and their Ferraris. Someone sexually manifested their demand, with cars inviting sexual conquest. Peter drove a Jeep.

OK, I'm silly. I was excited, though. Today, Saturday, January second, 2015, I am starting a new practice with my boss, Dr. Peter Miles. I am twenty-four-year-old Vanessa Brown. I have worked for and with him for the last eighteen months. He hired me right after I completed my Associate Degree program in Psychology. I never expected to be hired. I had worked at a diner through school, not some high-class Research Center. I had met two of the other candidates, both with Master's degrees. So, when he offered me the job, I asked him why he had chosen me over more qualified candidates? He reminded me he was deciding based on intangible qualities, not just scholarly accomplishments. A confusing answer, I thought; but I would not press my luck. I had the job. It was in my field. He appeared not to care about my looks, and the pay was good. Besides, if he wanted sex, I assume he could at least get it vicariously from his patients.

Yes, I am paranoid. I can look in the mirror and impartially judge my appearance. I am substantially above average. I have a splendid figure, work out, and I don't have to buy expensive clothes to look good. I am a virgin. How that is relevant is beyond me, but no one believes me. No, I am not a prude; in fact, I dated a football player throughout high school. I was naked in his car frequently, and he made me flaunt my nudity for truckers driving beside us or his friends. He never fucked me; in fact, he never even touched my pussy. I think he may have been gay and was afraid to tell people. Can you imagine riding in a car and having people see you naked? I was so horny; most of the time, my panties stayed soaked. After high school, I got a job at the diner in Columbus and started at the local city college. Now, after eighteen months in the multi-discipline practice, I was starting his new solo practice with him.

Peter initially worked for a group of doctors, all practicing various disciplines. As an MD, his medical training offers him the opportunity to choose his area of specialization. He emphasizes Sexual Psychiatry covering all sexual disorders and sexual problems. The practice can be uncomfortable for some people, especially those who share office space. Peter had been looking for an excuse to vacate his lease; so, he suggested to the Practice Manager he would market aggressively to secure new patients. The manager said the other tenants would not look favorably on additional "perverts" occupying the building.

Peter established an independent practice. I would have bet my bottom dollar; Peter would be very successful. I was familiar with most of his patients, and when he asked me to come with him, I didn't think twice, even though the multiple practice manager asked me to stay for more money. I liked Dr. Miles or Peter as he asked me to call him. Even though he ordered me around, and he treated only people with severe sexual dysfunction. It was exciting to work in a field that was newly discovered with very little competition.

Sexual dysfunction includes desire, arousal, orgasmic, and sexual pain disorders. Emotional conditions, which create physical manifestations, cause them. My boss is an expert in the field and has new patients coming in every week. I have an Associate Degree in Psychology, and Peter has told me I'm smart enough to continue my education. Get my BS/MS and take some of the load off him in time. That's exciting for me, and I think I may start taking a course or two online.