Heritage Ch. 01

Author's note: This is a D/s love story with a slow plot and character development and I am planning on submitting one installment weekly. I'd like to show a side of consensual power exchange that I consider real life compatible through the journey of two people finding their place in life, building a strong and lasting bond and reaching a peace of mind through and despite this aspect of their sexuality. If you are curious then please stay with me, read on and check back for weekly updates. Most of all: enjoy!

Chapter 1. Trapped

My Dearest Isabella,

By the time you receive this letter I shall already have crossed the veil that conceals life eternal from our limited mortal point of you. I want you to know, my child, that I did so with a sweet peace of mind along with the deepest conviction of having lived a fulfilling and content life.

I apologize to you for not having informed you about my condition prior to travelling abroad, but my wish was to die the same way I enjoyed living: in a silent and yet splendid way without the burden of weary and tearful farewells.

The only concern I am left with to take care of now is the well fare of my loved ones. My dearest Isabella, I have loved you like my own daughter since the day you became entrusted in my care thus I am hopeful that you will grant my final wish. Please accept and honor my heritage with the solemn grace and gratitude that I have never ceased to admire and respect in you despite our differences.

I hope that my final gift will assist you in enjoying and embracing life in all its imperfect glory. Remember that I love you and be happy, my little dove, for it is a unique and beautiful journey you are just about to embark on!

With never ceasing love,

Your Aunt Catherine

Her voice almost broke by the time she finished reading the signature out loud, the confusion still clearly visible in her soft brown eyes, even though hidden behind a blurry curtain of unshed tears. The pleading look on the face of the heartbroken young woman sitting in front of him struck the long forgotten cord of compassion within Bruce Smith.

Taking the wrinkled piece of paper from her and handing her a spotless white handkerchief instead, he examined the letter, narrowing his piercing blue eyes and forgetting about the heap of sobs and tears next to him for a moment. Worded with an air of almost careless elegance and self-esteem ... "undoubtedly Catherine" he murmured his appreciation under his breath, engulfed for a moment by cherished memories of days long passed.

A highly unladylike loud blowing of a slightly pointed nose dotted with strawberry freckles all over soon tore him though from his reverie. His experienced eyes travelled over the young woman with a thoughtful expression.

At the age of 23 Isabella Daniels was not exactly fitting her aunt's description of her as a sight of blooming feminine grace and beauty, however she couldn't be considered the ugly overweight duckling she had been as a teenager either. A pair of lovely brown eyes hid somewhere behind that moist and rumpled handkerchief, with moderately plucked eyebrows and rich lashes enhancing what Catherine lovingly used to call her "natural charms". Her face bordered on heart shaped, framed by shoulder length dark brown hair, curling around her neck in a rather unruly manner. She wore a pair of blue jeans, nicely accenting the generous curve of her hips and round rear along with her strongly built thighs and a soft looking beige wool cardigan to shelter her from the chilly spring weather of Upstate New York. It covered most of the simple white button down shirt, that kept tickling his imagination every time she shifted in the recliner, allowing her well endowed bosom a gentle sway. The overall impression even raised the suspicion of her being able to look presentable, granted without flushed cheeks and lips that looked swollen enough to be begging for a kiss.

Scolding himself mentally for such imprudent thoughts, a deepening frown spread across Mr Smith's forehead as he dragged his attention back to her eyes again. The big brown twin pools of melted chocolate were accented by a rosy shade and dark circles that spoke of the sleepless nights and the tiresome days Isabella had been through since receiving the news about her aunt having passed away a mere week ago.

Bruce knew in his heart that it wouldn't be easy. As trusted lawyer and personal confident to Catherine Beaumont for many years he had experienced the despair of the woman whom he considered the strongest person he'd ever known when her only sister died along with her husband in a terrible car accident on an icy Christmas night, leaving her to raise 7 year old Bella all by herself. He was there to experience first hand, even if only from the background, how the society lady who once yearned for nothing but attention and admiration took upon herself the responsibilities and joys of motherhood for the orphaned niece who became the daughter Catherine was never granted to have.

Neither to have nor to hold ... the old friend reflected at the days of Bella's departure with sadness. How a chubby and clumsy 18 year old girl with complete lack of self confidence could manage to break a woman of Catherine's personal power and strength he could never quite figure out, but then again, he had never been a parent, never had a child to love and care for and have walk out of his life with an accusing gleam in her eyes. He had been there all along, witnessing the depression as it slowly crept into his admired friend's life, taking complete control over her actions and draining the joy of life from her eyes. She looked more vulnerable than ever back then, so fragile, clearly in need for support and care, desires her pride wouldn't allow her to ask for, not even at such a devastated state of mind.

It was the moment. It should have been his moment. His opportunity to claim and take what he longed for but never had the courage and opportunity to make his before. He hesitated. The moment passed. Another took the price he could only continue dreaming about, so he remained what he had always been, the cherished and trusted friend. The confidant to learn first about her inoperable tumor, the first in the line of many who tried to talk her into an alternative therapy in vain. The lawyer to set up her testament, to arrange her final journey to Hawaii along with the peaceful and lonely funeral she requested on the island. He was the one to debate with her night after night about her insane plan and even the person to set it into motion according to his adored friend's wishes by sending her letter to her beloved niece.

Taking a final glance at a more than fallen apart Bella he shook his head quietly, no, it certainly wouldn't be easy.

He took a deep breath standing and stroking his hand over his graying beard in a thoughtful gesture before stepping close to her and cupping her chin with gentle fingertips. Looking into her sorrowful eyes as he tilted her face upwards he saw something that reminded him of Cathrine. Not the strong and elegant lady people admired and men of power yielded to, but the heartbroken mother who lost her only child and blamed herself continually for it. He shook the sensation off blinking a few times and cleared his throat, starting to pace the room and growing more and more stern with every step taken.

"It was her final wish. You must obey." he concluded his line of thought out loud.

The young woman shook her head fiercely with stubbornness taking over her desperate features.

"I cannot. It's impossible uncle Bruce, why can't you see that?" she took a deep breath of her own to clear her mind and organize the arguments she had been reciting all along the plane ride. "I never stopped loving her nor being grateful for what she had done for me, but I have my own life now. It was my choice to walk down a different path, if she could respect it back then why should she have changed her mind now?"

"Decisions and opinions often become reevaluated when a person faces critical juncture in life." came his rational reply in a much calmer voice as he sat down again next to her, taking her right hand into his and carefully disengaging his soaked handkerchief from it. "Your Aunt wanted what she thought to be the best for you. We can agree at least on that, right?" he asked with the faintest of all smiles earning a small nod form her along with a heavy sigh.

"It was Cathrine's dream, and has become her heritage. Everything else except for the old house and the publishing company is to be sold in the benefit of the Beaumont Foundation. You'd only have to hold a representative position, a couple council meetings and dinner parties a year, that's all I'm ... I mean she is asking for." he corrected with an emphasis that made the young woman cringe.

"I love that house ..." she breathed barely above a whisper. She had practically grown up in the spacious country house, it had become a place of warmth and shelter to her over the years, a home she longed to return to one day, the very home she had dreamed about housing her own family when she was a little girl. "I love that house." she repeated softly before her face turned hard along with her voice. "But I definitely don't want to keep the company!" she stated with anger surfacing in her tone.

Bruce simply shook his head. "It's part of the heritage and your aunt requested a special clausure that would ensure that you could only have the country house if you accepted the rest of the responsibilities that come with her final wish."

"But it's completely unfair! She is seriously and terminally ill and no one tells me! She travels thousands of miles to die without as much as a good bye call, just to ensure that I wouldn't be able to attend her funeral ... and then .. and then ..." her emotions took over and the damn broke, with powerful sobs taking her strength to speak for a few minutes again.

Bruce looked at her with sympathy, not quiet understanding where the feeling came from. She was about to inherit a well established publishing company of adult entertainment that will probably grant her financial independence for the rest of her life, so she was not exactly the person whom he ought to pity most in the world. And yet, under all the stubborn and rebellious exterior he sensed a connection between them that was likely to be responsible for his reactions. They both had lost the most influential and probably most important person in their lives, and neither was willing to admit it. She was not his Catherine, but she was the closest thing to her that he would ever set his eyes upon again, he realized, as his hand soothingly started to stroke her hair on his own accord.

"Would you have listened?" he asked calmly, rocking and comforting her like the little child she once had been. "Would you have answered the phone, would you have opened her letter? Would you have come to her funeral?"

The sudden look she gave him was full of disbelief. How could he even ask such questions?!! But as the moments passed guilt slowly invaded her feelings and she rested her head on his shoulder again in defeat.

"Could I ever sell the company?" her voice was soft now, her breathing even and warm as it tickled the little hairs on his nape, drawing a low sigh of disappointment from him when she finally pulled back and sat up straight again.

"Theoretically, once you've accepted the heritage and the paper work is through with, you'd have full ownership of the house and the company, including the right to sell them if you want, as long as your duties as inheritor determined in her testament are fulfilled. The latter including representing the Beaumont Foundation, taking care of the country house along with its inhabitant and respecting the life time live-in right your aunt generously ensured."

Bella sighed with a combination of longing and desperation. Returning home would be wonderful, a bit of peace and calmness would certainly do good for her poor nerves, even if the house would appear empty without her aunt. She loved Martha, Catherine's dear old housekeeper like family and felt touched by the worry her aunt still seemed to have for her well fare. Whatever the outcome of this whole troublesome negotiation would be, she made a mental note of visiting her after things with uncle Bruce were settled.

Socializing had never been her particular area of interest and although she doubted to enjoy it much, attending a few charity events each year would probably not kill her either. However, despite the respect and deep gratitude she felt for her aunt, she was positive that she wanted to have nothing to do with the smut industry.

It was the very reason she left and could never look at her aunt the same way again after she founded Velvet Inc. Even if it was a dream come true for Catherine to sell porn she still shuddered with disgust at the very idea. Spreading its wings worldwide and waving a global network of story sites and forums, Velvet Inc. started to flourish over night via the internet into a golden hen over the passt few years. Grant it a hen she'd rather seen roasted.

"So you're saying, if I accept and care for the things listed, I'd be free to sell the company?" she asked slowly for clarification.

"I'd advise you not to decide in haste, but yes, the possibility is there."

"Where do I sign?" she asked eying the thick bundle of papers on the large oak desk. She felt worn out from the flight and the stress of the passt week, besides which she trusted uncle Bruce. He wouldn't let her sign anything that wasn't safe to do, after all, now that her aunt had passed away he was also her lawyer and definitely not the kind of businessman who could have been called his own enemy.

Standing and moving behind his desk he took on his professional attitude, pointing at the dotted line for Bella to sign.

"Thank you uncle Bruce. I still feel trapped by her" - she remarked as he walked her out of his office a few minutes later - "but you made it easier to accept." she placed a chaste kiss on his bearded cheek and smiled for the first time since he had seen her again. It was but a small smile, however, the sincerity it carried seemed to enlighten her features with a radiant glow that sent a shiver running down his spine.

Just then his secretary informed them that her cab had already arrived and the intimacy of the spell he had felt for a moment had been broken.

"Your aunt has acquired a pet of sorts a few years ago. Take good care of him too." he added with a wink as she stepped into the elevator nodding slowly.

"What kind of a pet is it?" she asked curiously. She had literally begged her aunt for a puppy for her 8th birthday, but she claimed to be allergic so Bella got a very cute brown white stuffed replacement instead, whom she'd named Fluffy and still carried around in her suitcase whenever she left home for more than a few days.

Bruce answered with a wry smile as the door of the elevator closed between them:

"A clingy one."

*

Copyright E. Solvay 2006

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