Phone Sex Escape -6-

Six

Johnathan

Arriving back from a business trip, I was a man on a mission. Walking into my home, Maria barely had a chance to grab my luggage before I retreated to my office to cool down. I would need to deal with Haven, but I needed a drink to calm down before that. After the updates from Maria, I knew that something was off. My wife never spent that much time in her bedroom, and though she didn’t like Maria, she never spoke to her with disrespect. Haven always put on a front around the hired help and unleashed her anger on him in the bedroom. Not that I didn’t like submissive, but most of the time, she acted dead.

“Miss Haven is getting her hair done. She called a, what are those things called? Oh, an uber. She said she had an appointment and needed to keep it. I tried Mr. Johnathan, but she has a hard head when it comes to rules, Maria said. 

Exhaling, I stopped in my tracks, my fists clenched at my side. I told Haven that she wasn’t allowed to leave the house but leave it to Haven to push my buttons. “When my wife gets home, send her to my office. You are not to alert her to my disappointment in her actions. Let her think that everything is fine,” I said before slamming my office door, the picture on the wall falling to the ground. Once again, I had shattered our wedding picture with my anger. Thankfully, after the first two times, Maria purchased more frames than she needed. She would change the photograph out before I saw the damage. Not that I would care at this point, but she was efficient. 

Three hours later, Haven St. Cloud walked into the middle of a mess. Her hair perfect. She took the time to get her nails and toes done at the same time. It was the look on Maria’s face that shocked her. If fear had a look, it was the maid’s face when she set her purse down on the entry table. 

“Mr. Johnathan is in his office and wants you there right away,” she said. There was almost a comical tone to her voice, making Haven hate her even more. 

“Yeah, whatever. You need to get a new hobby and stop making my husband the center of your fucking world,” Haven said, walking off before Maria could respond. 

Forgoing the knock, she walked into her husband’s home office, stood in front of his desk, and watched as he looked out the window.

“Do you know how pissed off I am right now,” I said. Rather than being a question, it was a direct comment. “I told you point black, do not call an uber while I was gone. I’m not sure why you find it within yourself to disobey my orders,” I added. Exhaling as I turned to face my wife, she did look lovely with her hair fixed, but she needed to learn that behaving is something I will always demand. 

“I can’t believe you would get mad over a salon appointment. I was never in danger, plus, don’t you want your wife to look nice when you come home?” she asked. 

Her words were laughable. Haven could care less if I looked at her, and we both knew that. She wanted me to avoid her at all costs, so this little charade was bullshit. 

“Do not insult my intelligence with lies. Go to the bedroom, shower, and remove the nail polish from your fingers and toes. Do not come out until your hair is wet, and your face is scrubbed clean of the makeup,” I smirked. Yes, that was drastic, but she would learn her lesson or find out that I have no desire to raise a spoiled child. 

“I will not. I paid a lot of money for all of this. You can go to hell, Johnathan,” she said, walking away in defiance. 

That was all it took to break me. Standing before Haven had a chance to exit the room, my fist knotted in the back of her hair, dragging her to the bathroom. If she weren’t going to do what I ask, I would make sure to do it for her. 

“You don’t fucking listen to me. I swear to god, I am speaking to a child,” I said. I pulled her through the house, Maria scrambling to get out of the way. I didn’t stop until I reached the shower—scalding hot water on, the steam now filling the bathroom with an eerie fog. “One more warning. Wash it off, or I will,” I said. 

“Fuck you,” Haven screamed, her spit hitting him in the face. 

“You fucking whore,” I snapped. I pushed her headfirst into the hot water. Her screams filled that house with fear. My arm burned, but this slut would learn her place in my home, or she would die. Honestly, I didn’t care anymore. She was a liability to men, such as myself. 

“JOHNATHAN, STOP THIS NOW,” she screamed. Her hair matted to her head, her makeup running down her face. The tears were real. 

I dropped her to the floor as she scrabbled out from the hard spray of water. I knew she learned that I wasn’t playing with her anymore. She would do as I say or learn to regret it later. “Get the polish off and get dressed for dinner. You have thirty minutes. Not thirty-one, but thirty,” I said, leaving, the door shut behind me. 

Crying from the other side of the door didn’t phase me. My wife was disrespectful, and she would find out just how a man, such as myself handles women like her. 

I stopped in the kitchen doorway. Maria was quickly stirring the pot on the stove. I knew she was scared. “My wife is taking a shower and cleaning herself up. Please have dinner on the table in thirty minutes. There is a bottle of wine on the counter to go with the meal. Chill it, but do not open it,” I said. She didn’t need to respond, and she knew it. I would use her mouth later for some tension relief, but she had a job to perform right now. 

Exactly twenty-nine minutes later, Haven arrived at the table, her face bright red from the water and her nails lacking polish. It wasn’t that I don’t enjoy a woman who is well taken care of, but she knew better than to deny me. I do not want my wife to take public transportation, and she knew that. 

“Did you learn your lesson?” I asked. 

A simple nod was sufficient as we ate in complete silence. When I want something done, Haven now knows that she will do it or suffer. 

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