The Chronicles Of Power

Molly sat hunched on the edge of her bed, feeling as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. The past few weeks had been good—almost genuinely good. She had even worked up the courage to give Lucy an intense orgasm while she was suspended from the ceiling. Only two months remained on her contract. After that, she would be free of both the house and her gambling debts, and she could finally repay her parents. Things might begin to feel normal again. All she had to do was hold on a little longer. Until the previous evening, she had believed she could.

Late that night, cheerful voices had drifted through the house, and one of them had turned Molly’s blood cold. Penelope was back. Ma’am’s niece had returned from her trip through Europe. The last time they had seen each other, Penelope had abandoned Molly naked in a parking garage, where two men had nearly assaulted her before Stephen arrived and frightened them away.

Now Penelope had spent the entire evening entertaining Sir and Ma’am with stories from her travels: how beautiful Paris was, how stupid people could be when they didn’t understand English, which shops were worth visiting, what she had eaten, and which hotels had failed to meet even the most basic standards. Sir and Ma’am had listened with rapt attention while Molly quietly kept their glasses filled.

Throughout the evening, Penelope had kept glancing at Molly, each look accompanied by a small, malicious smile. Every time, the stone in Molly’s stomach had grown heavier and colder. When they finally retired for the night, Penelope had leaned close and whispered, “Tomorrow, it’ll be you and me. And a few others. We’re going to have so much fun.” Tears had run down Molly’s cheeks as she washed the glasses and cleared everything away.

It wasn’t only what Penelope did to her that made it so unbearable; it was why she did it. Penelope acted out of simple cruelty. She enjoyed watching Molly blush and shrink with shame. Molly’s tears made Penelopes eyes shine and her smile deepen. Later, Molly had nearly dropped a champagne flute when she saw Penelope pass the kitchen window outside, her pale face briefly visible in the darkness.

Sleep had been impossible. And a few others. The words had circled endlessly through her mind. Who were they? What was Penelope planning? She sighted, got to her feet, and had just enough time to get dressed before the familiar knock came at the doo. It was Stephen, carrying the day’s schedule.

He had been so gentle with her in the parking garage. On the drive back to the house, Molly had watched his sad, concerned eyes in the rearview mirror. It was the first time in a very long while that she had felt someone truly cared what happened to her. By the following morning, Stephen had returned to his usual cold, mechanical self, but she had never forgotten the softness she had seen in him.

She opened the door and curtsied. As always, Stephen’s gaze rested slightly to one side of her head as he held out the schedule. Then something changed. He turned almost imperceptibly and looked directly into her eyes. One corner of his mouth twitched, the faintest fragment of a smile. “I hope this helps.”

Molly accepted the papers, bewildered. Stephen was already a machine again. He turned and continued down the corridor toward Lucy’s room. Once the door was closed, Molly felt the schedule between her fingers. It was thicker than usual; several additional sheets had been tucked beneath it. She sat down at her little table and began examining Stephen’s gift with growing interest, a letter. And a photo.

After lunch, Molly reported to Penelope’s room as instructed. Penelope was dressed in her usual blend of luxury and studied informality, every piece fitting her perfectly. Her blond hair looked almost painted on, so smooth that not a strand seemed capable of falling out of place. She moved around the room like a cat, her steps slow, soft, and graceful. Molly stood in the middle of the carpet like a frightened mouse, entirely at the predator’s mercy.

Penelope came up behind Molly and ran her fingers over her freckled cheeks, giving them an occasional pinch. “I had a wonderful time in Europe,” she said in a slow, dreamy voice. “I visited a few clubs in Berlin.” She tugged lightly at Molly’s bun. “Special clubs, where naked slaves did everything I asked.” Penelope settled into the armchair and crossed her legs. “I whipped them bloody, I ordered them to suck cock, and I made them beg me to shove a dildo up their asses.” She giggled. “I even pissed on them.” Penelope licked her lips. “And I thought about you the entire time.”

She rose again and took something from her bag: a long, menacing whip. “I brought home a souvenir from Berlin. I thought we could play with it for a while.” Penelope drew the tip across Molly’s lips. “Later, we’ll have a few specially invited guests. They have no idea what’s waiting for them, but I promised them a surprise and told them to arrive already aroused.”

Penelope moved so close that her chin nearly touched Molly’s forehead. “And you’re going to agree to everything with a smile. If you so much as dare to object, I’ll make sure you’re thrown out of this house. You can forget your bonus.” She was almost trembling with the pleasure of having that much power. “I own you,” she whispered.

Molly drew a deep breath, raised her head, and looked directly into Penelope’s eyes. Then she lifted one hand and gently pushed her away. “No.” Her voice was perfectly calm. “No, you don’t.”

Penelope stumbled backward, completely unprepared for the resistance. Confusion and fury passed across her face at once. “What? How dare you?”

Molly took a photograph from her pocket. “This was taken last night.” She held it up in front of Penelope’s eyes. It showed Penelope standing beneath a bush in the garden, smoking a joint.

“But how—?” For the first time, Penelope sounded afraid.

“And I know you have more in your bag.” Molly nodded toward the floor and began walking slowly around her. “I also know exactly how Ma’am feels about drugs. If she finds out, she’ll disinherit both you and your family.” Molly took the whip from Penelope’s hand and tested its weight. “Someone Sir and Ma’am trust completely is going to tell them everything. They’ll find the drugs in your bag, and you’ll be forced to take a drug test. There’ll be no way out. Your life will be ruined.” Her voice grew clearer and stronger with every sentence.

Penelope had gone deathly pale. “Y-you wouldn’t. You can’t—”

“I would, and I will,” Molly cut in. She allowed the words to settle between them. “Unless you do exactly what I tell you.” The moment she said it, the stones in her stomach seemed to dissolve. Something light and powerful lifted her from within. Before Penelope’s eyes, Molly appeared to grow.

Penelope’s gaze moved restlessly, as though she were running through a thousand possible escapes. Each one must have led to the same hopeless conclusion. Her shoulders sagged. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“Okay, Miss Molly,” Molly corrected her.

Penelope swallowed. “Okay, Miss Molly.”

Molly’s first order was simple. “Go into the bathroom and wash off all your makeup.” When Penelope returned, pale and strangely indistinct without it, Molly reached up and mussed her immaculate hair. “Take off your clothes.” Some resistance remained; Penelope hesitated. Then Molly cracked the whip against the wall, and the hesitation disappeared. One piece after another fell to the floor under Molly’s watchful gaze.

Penelope stood naked before the fully dressed Molly. Without the clothes, the makeup, and the perfect hair, there was nothing remarkable about her. She was an ordinary college girl, and all the authority she had carried into the room seemed to have vanished. Molly let the whip trail across Penelope’s breasts. They weren’t nearly as firm or perky as Molly’s; they were perfectly ordinary breasts, almost a little saggy. Molly had imagined Penelope’s pussy would be flawlessly shaved, as carefully maintained as everything else about her. Instead, it was covered in stubble and looked carelessly tended. Penelope’s face had turned red, and she kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

Molly allowed the silence to stretch. She had all the time in the world. She felt goose bumps rise along her legs, her pussy growing wetter and her nipples hardening. But there was more to it than arousal. Power had filled a space inside her that had been empty for years—the same dark hollow that had followed her through life and eventually driven her into a ruinous addiction. For the first time, the emptiness had gone quiet. Molly felt whole. She felt happy. She had found her calling.

The realization made her sway. The power was intoxicating. She sank into the armchair and used the whip to indicate where she wanted Penelope: on her knees between Molly’s thighs. “Look at me.” Molly’s voice was ice-cold. As their eyes met, Molly struck Penelope’s buttocks with the whip. First the right, then the left, then the right again. Penelope tried not to react, but her face twitched with every blow, and when Molly began landing three quick strikes on each buttock, her features twisted in pain. The red-haired, slightly curvy maid cracked the whip through the air above the wealthy young woman, who knelt like a dog between her thighs, naked and trembling.

After a while, Penelope’s ass glowed bright red, and Molly’s arm began to tire. The sight of Penelope’s face and reddened ass made her juices flow even more. Molly smiled and lifted her skirt, her black panties were soaking wet, she pulled them aside. Her large red clitoris protruded like a little cock, and she was wetter than she had ever been, steam rising from her. Molly took a hard grip on Penelope’s disheveled hair and pulled her toward her crotch, the sensation was wonderful. “Suck me. Suck my little cock, you slut.” Penelope didn’t hesitate, she immediately drew Molly’s clitoris into her mouth and let her tongue flutter over it. Molly barely had time to enjoy it, she came at once. An orgasm born from pent-up anxiety finally giving way to freedom. She had found herself. She knew what she would do with the rest of her life. She was flying like a bird in the sky.

She let the orgasm subside, but she still held Penelope’s face pressed against her pussy. “That was the first one,” she said, grinding Penelope’s head hard against herself. “The first of many”.