Ashlea grinned, her heels click-clacking on the concrete path up to her humble mansion. She'd spent the week doing good work – those layoffs had saved enough money to bump up her company's stock rise to 15% this year, both from not having to pay wages and not needing to pay for health insurance on the employees. Most of the layoffs were minimum wage workers, but they could just get jobs flipping burgers or something – everyone was hiring, and if they'd just saved their money they'd be able to afford a couple months without pay. And the rest were the most expensive people to keep in any business – the long-term hires with the biggest wages. She smiled, remembering how she'd had their employment contracts altered to remove the severance packages, saving even more money as a result – and besides, they were skilled employees. Someone would take them in after a month or two, and if they couldn't afford to go without a job that long, that's their fault, not hers. And most of them had been laid off only a few weeks before their contract-mandated pay raises to boot - it's just good business practices to avoid unneeded expenses! The company would hire on new workers at minimum wage, and get months more of work out of them before repeating the cycle, only the absolute best and brightest staying on past that until they got too expensive to keep on.

Plus, it's not like she was keeping all that money to herself – she was donating much of it to charity! Sure, the charity was one she had set up to further her business interests, but it was a charity! It gave a whole 6% of its funds to worthy causes – that's more than the minimum of 5%! - while the rest was cycled back into investments to help fund itself. Mostly other profitable companies, like oil companies and defense contractors, and occasionally small startups that seemed promising and needed to be acquired to... lose some of the things holding them back. So many people got too hung up on silly ethical concerns to really make a good, profitable business! And besides, the donations to charity gave her tax write-offs big enough to pay for those donations and then some, and somebody would've gotten rid of that rule if she was truly doing anything bad.

The private flight back from her shopping trip had gone smoothly too – a twenty-minute flight out to the “independent artisans” who had finally completed the last of the... “special toys” she'd commissioned. They'd managed to whip up some interesting spells, they said, things that would “have quite the effect”. Oh sure, the wizard's guild wouldn't let them work on certain spells, they had claimed, no way they could do what she was asking – but eventually she found one group that changed their tune once she'd flashed some cash. It's only illegal if you get caught, and it's harder to get caught when your payment doesn't have a paper trail.

Now she just needed to pick who to use them on. She grinned a little, considering who in her staff to start making her personal plaything – she'd made sure only to hire the most beautiful maids, firing anybody who could only maintain that beauty with too much makeup or glamour spells. Of course they'd drop everything at the chance to have sex with her – who wouldn't? A supermodel bod, with the brains to run a multinational corporation well on its way to joining the Fortune 500, any girl she wanted would want her to fuck them! And if they didn't, well...

She grinned a bit, holding the one box she didn't let her porters carry in for her.

She could fix that.



Ashlea gave a self-satisfied sigh, stashing the last of her toys in the second walk-in closet as she thought about her maids. Which one should she make into her personal sex slave first, she wondered? It'd have to be one of the maids who lived in the mansion with her, as opposed to one of the ones who commuted in... hmmm... maybe Kiara? She did like her rich, chocolate skin... she shook her head as she closed and locked the door, stashing the key. No, no. She wouldn't be the first. Second or third. Learn the ins and outs of her toys, then go for the big prize. Perhaps Lily? She was oddly mousy and shy for such a tall girl – there's definitely appeal there. Or perhaps-

“Ma'am? Your dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

Ashlea turned, giving a bit of a grin. Of course. Samantha. She looked her maid up and down, slowly and carefully – gorgeous long blonde hair, beautiful pale white skin, a full but not overly large chest, a pert slappable ass, sculpted legs without too much muscle – and, as she saw one time while the maid was changing, with pierced nipples hiding underneath the traditional French maid outfit.

“Thank you, Samantha.” She rose to her feet, composing her smile – no need to give the game away until her new sex slave couldn't fight back. “I would like to see you here tonight after my post-dinner bath. 8:00 sharp, and dressed to the nines. We have a couple things to discuss.” She waved her hand idly. “You are dismissed until then.”

Samantha paused briefly, but soon gave a slight bow as Ashlea left the room. “Of course, ma'am.”

Ashlea kept her face neutral until she was sure Samantha could not see it. The kinky bitch will probably enjoy being my sex slave even without the help of my new toys, she thought, grinning.

She took a breath, walking carefully down the stairs, gently trailing her hand along the guard rail as she felt for any stray dust. She'd been forced to fire more than a few maids over the years who couldn't keep up with the exacting degrees of cleanliness she required, nay, was owed in her home, and wanted to make sure to catch any of her current hires who were too lazy to keep to the quality she deserved. She took her time, carefully inspecting several things along the way to her dining room to ensure they were properly clean – the tops of paintings, behind ornate vases, everything. She had quite a few custom-commissioned art pieces decorating her home, a sign of just how wealthy she was, despite living in only a twelve-bedroom mansion. She'd fought long and hard, with backroom deals and corporate buyouts, to climb up to as high as she had. And some people had the gall to claim that hard work didn't pay off! Anyone could've done what she did, if they'd just had her drive and force of will!

She rounded the corner into the dining room, and saw the perfect case in point – Lily. Tall and strong, but with a timid elegance. Probably the most beautiful of her maids, her makeup expertly applied every morning, not a single smudge out of place by evening. Gorgeous red hair, straddling the line between wavy and curly, the perfect length to lightly graze against the tops of her shoulders. Her breasts were small, but well-formed, and her rear looked heavenly – and while Ashlea had never gotten a chance to confirm it, she was convinced that Lily at least had the confidence to go without any sort of intimate grooming. She'd overheard one day something about how she was still “all natural down below”. Or was it “unaltered”? Whatever. Same thing. Honestly, Ashlea was a little jealous – okay, a lot jealous – of how good Lily looked, and often found herself wanting to look as good as she did. She had no idea how Lily had gotten so good at makeup and mannerisms and just... everything! Lily could have had anything she wanted if she just reached out and seized it. But she just didn't have the backbone to do so! She tensed up at every little sound, and jumped at most of the big ones. If she could get the confidence to hold firm, the way she had about her bush, then her natural beauty would win her anything she wanted!

But it seemed all she wanted was to serve her, with how carefully she clung to Ashlea's approval. She was still nervous, even after months of employment, doing everything as perfectly as she possibly could, as though she didn't have the good looks to make a mistake or three. Look at the spread she'd set up on the four-person dining table – barely a fork out of place, with the perfect space laid out for her dinner dishes in between them! And yes, the forks weren't in perfect alignment, but only an eye as trained as Ashlea's would've spotted that anyway, and still Lily seemed just shy of trembling like a leaf! Poor girl. Once she got the first kinks of her new toys worked out training Samantha, and then captured the prize that was Kiara's exotic body, Ashlea would do her best to make sure that Lily gained some confidence even while being her slave.

“The table looks perfect, Lily,” she said, giving a warm smile as she slipped into position, Lily expertly tucking the chair into place as Ashlea sat down, before moving in with the first covered tray. “Now then – what has my chef cooked up for me today?”

Lily pulled back the lid, exposing the first dish in a small plume of steam. “For the first course, a hot quinoa salad, featuring chickpeas, cherry tomatoes, and fresh-picked mint.”

Ashlea demanded only vegan cuisine – it broke her heart thinking about the horrible things being done to animals to create the food she ate, and besides, those large factory farms were horrible for the environment, or so she'd heard. She wasn't completely convinced that global warming really was a thing, but hey, she saved some animals and maybe made the environment better by eating vegan, so why not?

“Oh, this looks lovely. So, where are my ingredients sourced from today?”

Lily took a small steadying breath – oh the poor girl, so nervous about even this! - before replying. “The quinoa arrived from Kenya two days ago, and the tomatoes were flown in from Campania, Italy this morning. The mint was grown in your personal garden, while the chickpeas were sourced out of Myanmar.”

Oh, splendid! Sure, getting special flights in from various countries to have her food arrive exactly when she needed it wasn't cheap, but she could handily afford it – and besides, it was just more authentic to have real Kenyan quinoa and Italian tomatoes, as opposed to something grown in the Americas. They probably weren't even native here! Shame the mint didn't last long enough to be sourced from the Andes, but a personal herb garden was still quite decadent, so she allowed it.

She selected her salad fork, smiling to herself before settling in – there was just one thing missing. “So, why is the news not playing?”

Lily winced ever so slightly – ah. Perhaps that was why she was so timid. The TV had been left off, and Lily hadn't had a chance to fix that before Ashlea settled in for dinner. Ashlea preferred to watch the evening news as she dined, catching up on the goings-on of the world over a long meal before settling in for the night. As such, she required her staff to have the news playing before she began to dine – something that had not been happening as often as she'd liked.

“I... am sorry, Ashlea,” Lily said, her voice barely above a mumble. “The story that was being covered was... uncomfortable.” Lily's hands tensed, moving towards the front of her skirt before returning to their proper place – she had a habit of fidgeting with the front of her maid uniform, one that Ashlea had been making an effort to train her out of.

Ashlea frowned, gesturing Lily over closer. Tentatively, Lily took small steps closer, until she was in arm's reach, still doing her best to stand prim and proper. Ashlea gave a soft smile, reaching up to place a hand comfortingly on Lily's shoulder, the poor girl startling briefly before accepting the comforting touch. “The news can be difficult to watch sometimes, I understand. But it is important, especially as someone of my standing, to keep abreast of modern events. So, Lily, please turn the news back on.”

Lily swallowed, before giving a timid nod. She walked over slowly to the TV, moving with hesitant but practiced precision, as she turned on the screen, and almost immediately Ashlea understood why Lily might be upset.

Fox News was covering a story about one of the greatest stains on modern America. It had apparently gotten started a few years ago, as men began to claim they were “women all along” or some utter nonsense. Perverts, trying to gain access to women's spaces in order to take advantage of those within. Worse still, straight men claiming to be “transsexual women”, in order to seduce lesbians they had felt they should have sex with! Despicable. Truly vile, to force yourself on someone who didn't want you.

After she finished making her maids into her personal harem and could spread her focus, she'd start throwing her money around doing something about that.

Lily was looking away from the screen, clearly trying to distance herself from the unfortunate stories being told, about men trying to trick the system into giving them advantages meant for women. Truly awful, how low men could stoop.

Ashlea kept eating, catching up further on the story, about how a woman was just trying to defend the sanctity of a women's changing room in a public pool, when she was accosted by just such an individual.

“How horrible... can't believe how low the trannies will stoop,” Ashlea said, before taking another forkful of her salad. Lily looked away further, taking a steadying breath, her back to the screen. She agreed, Ashlea was sure. Couldn't even bring herself to watch. Ashlea didn't want to watch, either.

But she needed to, to keep up with the news.

Mercifully, the story came to a close, the host pivoting to a new story about the police catching some criminal and how the public was up in arms about how they went about it. Being a police officer was a dangerous job, and sometimes the criminal was a danger to innocents around them! The cops had captured the suspect – another black man, of course it was, men were dangerous enough and black men twice that – after a protracted shootout that had injured three others. He had apparently died in police custody, and of course people who didn't realize how difficult it was to be a cop were blowing it out of proportion, claiming it was “police brutality”, as if the man hadn't done enough before being brought in. Firing on the cops who were just trying to protect the neighborhood!

Ashlea barely noticed as she finished her salad course, but she did, giving a small satisfied nod, gesturing Lily over to take the dishes away. It took her a second – she was still trying to avert her eyes from the screen, but the poor girl couldn't help but hear the awful things being said about the police, so she was still struggling. Ashlea resolved herself – Lily would be second, and would regain some backbone.

Except around Ashlea, of course. Lily would be perfectly sexually submissive to her. Duh.

“Please tell the chef the first course was quite nice, although the tomatoes could have been diced finer.” Lily gave a tentative nod, moving the empty plate to her serving cart. “Now, what is my main course?”

A new cart rounded the corner, as Ashlea's sole black employee pushed it into view – Kiara. Not as tall as Lily, but still taller than Ashlea, the exotic woman's rich ebony skin blended beautifully with her maid uniform. Of all the people she wished she could get to wear a kinkier maid outfit, Kiara topped that list. And why wouldn't she? Those gorgeous black curls – bouncy but not too tight! – that impressive chest, muscular legs and delightfully strong ass, full lips, deep brown eyes, Ashlea wanted her bad. But of course, Kiara had ignored any attempts at fraternization with her, maintaining that professionalism that had led to her being picked out of the pool of black applicants as Ashlea's diversity hire. Half of the rest of them couldn't even keep their hair in check! The nerve of them.

With curt professionalism, Kiara moved the plate into position, before removing the cover and revealing-

“Your main course tonight,” she said, only the barest hint of an accent slipping through her speech, “is stuffed smoked eggplant with rice, seitan, chiles, and edible marigolds.” She pulled back, placing the lid on her serving cart, as Lily took the opportunity to escape back to the kitchen with her own. Poor girl... she felt so much for the women and police society had turned against, Ashlea was sure. As Kiara returned to standing at the ready, Ashlea plucked up her next fork and her knife, carefully carving off a piece to sample.

The news continued on, turning from directly what had happened in that dangerous shootout to focus entirely on the public outcry. “Despicable. The police got a dangerous criminal off the streets, and this is how the people repay them?”

Kiara did not comment, standing stoically at the ready. Ashlea turned her head towards that rich chocolate beauty, considering. “You lived in just such a neighborhood, didn't you, Kiara?”

Kiara tensed, almost imperceptibly. “I did, ma'am, once.”

“It's astounding to me, that they want to let such dangerous criminals walk the streets, in places just like where you grew up.”

Kiara paused, clearly considering her words carefully. Ashlea paused, considering that – Kiara didn't sympathize with the man who died, did she? Sure, both were black, but he was a violent criminal, and she was a perfect example of what her race could be! Clearly she despised him, and was trying to think of how to phrase it tactfully.

“They should focus their efforts on better resources for the community,” she eventually said. “You can't built a good house on bad foundations.”

Ashlea paused briefly, considering that. Kiara did have a point there – trying to built a good neighborhood without rooting out the problems first was doomed to failure. “Quite fair. Still, without removing criminals, those good foundations can't be built. They'll always get in the way, and they're making their people look bad!”

Kiara took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Ashlea turned a bit more fully towards her maid. “Yes? Is that all you have to say, Kiara?”

Kiara nodded, small and measured. “Yes. It is.”

Ashlea's face pulled into a disgruntled frown, an arm giving an agitated wave back towards the TV. “Surely you'd have more to say about... those sorts, getting in the way of good upstanding credits to your people like yourself?”

Kiara frowned, ever so slightly. “Nothing I would feel comfortable saying here, ma'am.”

Ashlea sighed a little, before turning back to her plate. She wouldn't get any more out of her, it seemed. She felt upset. She was hoping for a good back-and-forth, some solid discussion on what merit black men brought to society. And Kiara had nipped that in the bud. She turned back to her plate, noticing once again how the third of her three forks – the one for the dessert course – had been left slightly out of alignment.

“Kiara, who set my table this evening?” she asked, her voice clipped slightly in annoyance, even her own naturally steely will unable to keep the emotion out of her voice.

Kiara took a measured, steadying inhale, pausing for a second before replying. “I did, ma'am.”

Ah. Of course. Despite her skill, Kiara did still slip up from time to time – of course that was why the fork was out of alignment. “My dessert fork is not properly aligned with the rest of the table setting, Kiara. I shall make a note of that in your review at the end of the month.”

It was always the little things with Kiara. Sure, when others made a little mistake from time to time, she could ignore them, but when Kiara just kept making these tiny mistakes, Ashlea could not help but notice the pattern. Once Kiara was under her thumb, Ashlea would have to train every single last one of those errors out of her until she met the standards she needed to.

Kiara, for her part, tensed ever-so-slightly, but maintained her professionalism as best she could in spite of it. Ashlea considered bringing that up, but decided against it – it would get recorded in the review, though. “I expect better next time.” And with that, she returned to her dinner, as the news moved on to the next story.



Ashlea gave a relaxed sigh as she sank into her Jacuzzi™, going over her plan one last time. She'd close the door. Distract Samantha with something needing to be cleaned. Then grab the collar and put it on her first sex slave.

The various toys were several kinds of devious and pricey, but that collar was by far the most expensive due to the multiple layered enchantments that had to be placed on it. First and foremost, only someone who had touched the collar before it was put on could work the strap – you need insurance to make sure nobody else could muck with your plans if they discovered it. Second, whoever wore the collar would be forced to follow any order given by whoever put it on them, if it was physically possible for them to perform that order – and most cleverly, the command would last until the collar was removed, instead of decaying over time like most commercially available magic kink collars. The wearer would be constantly turned on, as well – what's the point of a sex slave if they weren't always in the mood, after all? – and would be automatically rewarded with extra pleasure for following commands willingly instead of automatically, and punished for trying to disobey a command they could complete. Or, if she so chose, punished anyways with just a snap of her fingers. From there, simple... what was the word... Pabloian? Pabloian conditioning would make them steadily more submissive and subservient, learning that following commands meant pleasure, until she could remove the collar and they would follow her every whim even without it, freeing the collar to be put on a new victim.

She'd then command Samantha to not make a sound, to want to be fucked by her, and from there, Ashlea would spend the night... breaking her new toy in. She allowed herself a dark little chuckle. A simple plan, of course, but a simple plan has fewer steps to fuck up.

She looked at the clock – ah. 7:50. Enough time to get out, towel off, start but not finish getting presentable – she'd seem weaker then, drop Samantha's guard. And then she'd get her prize.

She rose up from her tub, flicking the switch to activate the drain, before reaching for her towel to dry herself off. She frowned a little – her gorgeous white monogrammed towels were starting to stain. Again. She'd have words with her laundry staff about this – how hard could it possibly be to keep her towels from getting stained? They must make something for fixing that – she'd fire the whole laundry staff if that's what it took for her to get competent help around here!

She grumbled, wiping herself down before dropping the towel on the floor just inside the bathroom door. A maid would get that. That's what maids are for. She paused... yes. This would be good enough bait for getting Samantha to turn her back. And from there... mmmm. That supple ivory-skinned body would belong to her.

She took her hair-drying towel, bending over so her long auburn locks dangled down, perfect for wrapping the towel around to help them dry. A quick coil later, and she stood back upright, plucking her terrycloth bath robe off its hook and draping it about her shoulders. She hummed thoughtfully, before adjusting the way it hung off her shoulders, showing off her cleavage a little more – might as well get her maid in the mood to be collared. With piercings like what Sam had, of course her maid would be into being her sex slave – only the kinky people get nipple piercings, and dominant people don't become maids. You pick the job you're best suited for, and maids are meant to serve. Only those who actually liked serving would ever take a job like that.

She walked into her bedroom, making sure everything was in place – the collar in an easily accessible drawer... yes, move it to the one nearest the bathroom. The closet full of sex toys is... closed and locked, and she has the key in her bathrobe pocket. The towel was on the floor in the bathroom, but close enough to the door that she could approach on carpet that would muffle her footsteps as she approached from behind. Nothing could go wrong. She settled in on her bed – no reason to start doing her nails yet, not with Samantha's arrival only a few minutes away. She could do that in the morning... oh, or better yet, make Samantha do it. Yes... and then she could reward her attention with a good hard fucking with a favorite strap-on... mmmm... start breaking her into that ritual until she does it automatically. Perfect. Doing her own nails was such a bother anyways.

Three quick, quiet knocks came from Ashlea's door. She glanced at the clock – 8:00 and two seconds. Exactly on time. Perfect.

“Come in,” she called out. The door opened smoothly, its hinges making not a peep – at least some of her maintenance staff could do their jobs properly, Ashlea thought. Samantha stepped through the door, prim and proper.

“Good. Right on time. Close the door, please, Samantha – this shouldn't take long.”

Samantha nodded, standing at attention, as Ashlea rose to her feet. She walked over with a touch of a sashay to her hips – something to attract her maid's eye, get her in the mood. Ashlea smiled, praising Samantha with flowery words about how good a job she was doing, how she'd noticed the initiative she'd put into her work – empty words, to flatter and erode her defenses. If any of her maids hadn't been doing what she was praising Samantha about, she'd have fired them weeks ago. Still, the common masses enjoyed getting praised for simple work, so why not butter her up a little. Use her name, to show the importance – Samantha had said something back when being hired about using a nickname, but that hardly mattered. Nicknames were for friends and should never be used in a formal setting, no matter how much you insist it's what you prefer to be called.

“In fact, you've been doing such a good job, Samantha, I'm going to give you a raise.” Ashlea smirked a little bit. Not entirely a lie, she mused – just that the pay raise wouldn't be monetary. “We'll negotiate the exact terms of that raise tomorrow, once we've both rested.” Also not technically a lie – although she wasn't sure how much “rest” Samantha could get with magic thrusting vibrators stuffed in her ass and pussy both for the entire night, and she never said Samantha would get a say in the negotiations.

“Oh! But before you go, I did leave a towel in my bathroom – it's beginning to stain.” She gestured with performative absent-mindedness, making sure to not seem too casual – hold back just enough that she doesn't realize she's up to something. “Take it to the laundry room and make sure they know this is unacceptable – I want my bath towels to be a flawless white.” She brought her hand back to her side, turning towards the vanity. “Dismissed.”

Samantha gave a small nod, and a similarly small bow, before making her way to the bathroom. She was doing a good job hiding how turned on she must be, Ashlea mused. Kinky bitch had no idea what was coming. Ashlea kept her stride measured and even as she approached her vanity, carefully opening the drawer and plucking out the sturdy woven collar.

She felt the tingle of magic again, as the enchantments on it linked themselves to her. Whoever touched it first would become the holder of the lead, so to speak, while whoever wore it was bound to their will. The vanity had made a small sound, but Samantha didn't react – what would be surprising about her employer deciding to use the vanity to freshen up the final bit before bed, after all?

She strode barefoot on soft carpet, her footfalls all but silent, as she came up behind Samantha. The maid had bent down to grab the towel that had been left in an unceremonious pile, showing off the hint of her perfect shapely rear beneath her skirt... mmmmnnn. In just a few seconds, it would belong to Ashlea.

Samantha stood up, and turned, and walked straight into the collar with a yelp of surprise, hands coming up to her neck. She tried to back up, but Ashlea quickly pulled it around her slave-to-be's neck, fumbling with the securing strap and the D-rings.

“Ma'am! What are you trying to do to-”

“Shut up.”

Samantha's voice died mid-sentence, her eyes going wide with shock that quickly morphed into anger as she clawed at the strap around her neck. “Hands down, stand still. And don't give me that look,” Ashlea ordered, grinning as Samantha's face softened from one of anger to one of fear, Ashlea watching with satisfaction as the maid's hands slowly, shudderingly dropped out of the way, the strap of the collar sliding through the D-rings until it was nicely secured. “That's better. Good girl, Samantha. Good girl.” She allowed her predatory grin to come back, as Samantha's cheeks slowly filled with color.

“That collar cost me quite a pretty penny, you know,” Ashlea said with a grin. “Took me quite some time to find someone willing to make it, even with all the money I could give them!” She traced her fingers along the fabric, feeling the magic coursing within it. “Still, you get what you pay for... and what I paid for was a powerful enchanted collar, strong enough to break the will of whoever wore it, to turn them into my own personal sex slave.” Samantha's eyes grew wide, that fear and horror ever more present on her face.

Ashlea reveled in it.

“Now don't fight me on this,” Ashlea commanded, grinning, as she lifted Samantha's frilled skirt out of the way, a hand reaching under it to tease at the blonde maid's pussy beneath her soft undergarments, feeling her twitch and squirm against her touch. She looked up from Samantha's groin, catching the look of fear and desperation that filled her face, and gave a scoff. “Oh, you could at least look like you enjoy this,” Ashlea said with a wicked grin. Slowly at first, but irresistably, Samantha's face softened in fits and starts into a look of arousal, as Ashlea replied with a wide, toothy smile. “There we go... knew you were a kinky bitch, into this sort of thing... bet you fantasized about this all the time, didn't you.” Samantha rapidly shook her head, unable to make a sound aside from hot and heavy breaths, even as Ashlea slipped a hand inside her panties, feeling the damp arousal blooming on Sam's gash.

“Naughty naughty, denying it like that... go ahead. You may speak, but only to tell me that you fantasized about me doing exactly this.” She snapped her fingers, sending a jolt of punishment through Samantha's mind, making the maid wince in pain. “Go on. Say it.”

Samantha inhaled, and Ashlea grinned, listening to the shuddery aroused voice slipping past her maid's lips. “I... fantasized... about you... doing... exactly... this...”

“Mmmm... that's it. Good girl, admitting it.” She curled, jamming a finger up inside Samantha's vagina, earning a quiet reflexive gasp from her new slave. “Now then... we're going to walk over to my closet, and I'm going to finger you the whole way there. Now follow me.” She gave a tug, curling her finger inside Samantha's folds, forcing those perfectly toned legs to move with jerky, uneven steps, teasing that sodden vagina on every step with the finger curled inside. “Once we get there, I'm going to unlock the door, find the toys I want to use on you, and spend the night getting started breaking you in.” Ashlea bit her lip, shivering in delight at the thought. “Mmmmnnn... perhaps I should start with one of the orgasm-blockers... get you properly worked up, just as my slave girls should be...” She grinned, mostly to herself. “If you're particularly good, I might even take it off in the morning.”

She unceremoniously tugged her hand free, feeling Samantha tense up against her before finally relaxing – well, as relaxed as a steadily aroused maid could possibly be, anyways. She reached into her pocket, pulling out the ornate key and slipping it into the lock. “Mmm... go ahead... you can do whatever you want... try to fight me... try to stop me... I'll make sure you won't want to by morning,” she said, a mischievous chuckle in her throat as the tumblers of the lock clicked and slid, the door finally swinging open with a bit of a creak. Perhaps her maintenance staff was less competent than she thought – might need to replace them too. She sighed, plucking the key from the lock as she strode into the room, looking around at the many drawers and cabinets, laden with toys. “Now then... what exactly do I want to use on you first...” Ashlea paused, giving some performative taps to her chin with a finger. “Oh, I have a great idea!” she proclaimed, mischief in her eyes as she started to turn around. “What do you want me to-”

A blur struck her as Samantha tackled her to the ground, Ashlea's hair towel coming undone in the fall as the blow knocked the wind out of her. She struggled, trying to throw Samantha off of herself, as she felt a padded strap pulled tight around her neck.

“Shut the fuck up.”

SilenceSILENCEsilenceSilENcEyell and screamSilence.

A barrage of thoughts crashed into Ashlea's mind, as Samantha's command cut through everything, the blonde's hands moving quickly to strap the collar in place, Ashlea's hand rising towards her neck to fight back and-

“Do not take off that collar, ever. No matter what.”

Don't take it offDON'T TAKE IT OFFdon't take it offDon'T TAKe it oFFoh god get it off GET IT OFFDon't Take It Off.

Ashlea's hand stilled, half-raised towards her neck, a wave of fear and dread washing over her as she tried to struggle free. No... no no no no no what just...

“Don't move until I tell you to.”

Don't moveDON'T MOVEdon't moveDon'T MovERUN RUN RUN RUN RUNDon't Move.

Ashlea tried to yell. She inhaled to make a noise, and a sudden stabbing pain shot through her temples as the collar pulsed against her neck. No... no! How did it go wrong! She should be the one in control, the one breaking Samantha into her pretty little plaything, not this!

Samantha lay there, breathing hard, pinning Ashlea's unmoving body to the ground. Slowly, though, Samantha rose up, shifting to sit astride Ashlea's waist, keeping her hips pinned to the ground as her hands held down her shoulders. “You... you goddamn bitch. You're so up your own ass that you think I wanted any of that?”

What? But... but she admitted it! She said she wanted it, said she fantasized about-

“Fucking rich bitch bastard! Why would I want anything to do with someone who couldn't even get my name right!” The maid reached down, grabbing Ashlea by the leash-ring on the collar and yanking her upward. “It's not Samantha, it's never been Samantha! My name is Sam! I told you that on the first day! I told you that every day for a week!”

Ashlea scowled, fighting as hard as she could to try and speak, but the stabbing pain drove through her temples again and ended her attempt. That was just a nickname! Nicknames are for...

“But noooo, you kept calling it a nickname! You said you'd call me by "my full name", no matter what! Eventually I just shut up because it was easier than dealing with your bullshit, but finally you pull this! I've had enough! My FULL FIRST NAME is SAM!”

Sam sat, straddling Ashlea's body, panting and breathing heavy, still gripping that leash-ring with two fingers, keeping Ashlea's shoulders off the ground.

Ashlea's cheeks began to flush as she felt a tingling in her groin – why... why was this turning her on? She was supposed to be in control... she hated being in this position... and yet she was getting-

The collar. It forcibly aroused whoever was wearing it. And she was wearing it.

Sam glared at her, voice filled with mockery. “'Knew you were a kinky bitch, into this sort of thing'. That's what you said, didn't you? Even while you kept ordering me to look turned on, just to satisfy your sick fantasy?” Sam kept her grip firm, keeping that secure tug on the collar. “Well, do you want to know what I was really always into?”

Ashlea lay there, horror setting in. No, no, no, no, this can't be happening, this can't be-

“I wanted to bend you over, then fuck your ass with the biggest cock I could get my hands on, until you gave me everything you had. Fuck you until you begged for more, and only giving it to you once you'd finally given up everything that gave you power over me, and I could be rid of you for good.”

Ashlea's eyes flew wide, the implicit promise shaking her to her core, even as the collar kept forcibly turning her on more and more... keep it together, Ashlea, it was definitely the collar doing that, it wasn't anything else that was making her-

“And then you just so happen to give me the chance. You told me to do whatever I wanted. You told me to stop you. Well guess what. I just did.”

What? No, no, she never told her to-

… oh god.

Oh god, she did. She meant it as a tease, about how thoroughly she was in charge, but... but she did. But... but how did she even get the collar off? It wasn't supposed... it...

That horror shifted to utter dread as she remembered her exact specifications. Exactly what she wanted the collar to be capable of.

The only people who could remove the collar were the people who touched it before it was put on... and technically, Sam – no, Samantha, she was not going to bow to those wishes no matter what! – had touched the collar, however briefly before Ashlea fastened it around her neck. She could take it off. And then she had ordered Ashlea to never take the collar off, so directly and unambiguously that she couldn't use the same loophole! She was trapped! She'd be-

Sounds. Footsteps, several of them, charging up the hallway. Ashlea's hope soared – of course! Samantha yelled, someone would come in here, find out what happened, and she'd be free!

Ashlea heard the door burst open, panicked footfalls slowing as they reached the narrow doorway. “Sam!” It was Kiara! Perfect! Ashlea watched as she rounded the corner, looking into the closet – sure, her gentle curls were now tied back in secure dreadlocks, but she'd save the conversation about professionalism for later. That burly black woman would tear this offender right off and-

“Sam, what's going on? Did she hurt you? Are you okay?”

What? No, no no no no no, she had to help get Samantha off her and-

“She tried... she tried to.” Sam breathed deep, steadying herself. “You were right, Kiara – you were more right than you knew.”

Ashlea's blood ran cold. What? That... that bitch! Ashlea had hired Kiara out of the ghetto! She'd picked her out of a hundred applicants, she'd gotten her trained up to a perfect high-class maid, she got to spend all her days in a mansion, why would she ever-

“... oh god...” A horrified hand raised to her face. “You mean she really did try to...”

Samantha gave a nod. “Yeah. She tried to rape me. More than that, this fucking collar I've got on her?” The pale-skinned maid tugged on the leash ring, forcing Ashlea more upright. “She put it on me. Makes you obedient. I couldn't make a damn sound until she slipped up.”

Another of the maids moved quickly – it was Lily, quickly moving to hug Samantha. No, no, no! No, that... there's no way! They couldn't have all been in on it! “Oh my gosh... I'm... I'm so glad you're okay, Sam.”

Ashlea winced as another jolt of pain shot through her temple as she tried to rise up – she'd told them! Told them all, over and over, full names only! There's no way that-

“Well, something you want to say, you bitch?” Samantha said, glaring down at Ashlea, still keeping a solid hold on the collar. “Come on. Speak up. Say it, but no yelling.”

Ashlea took in a gasping breath of air, finding her voice again. “I told you all... over and over... no nickna-”

A resounding slap echoed through the room, Ashlea's cheek suddenly stinging powerfully as her head whipped to the side. She... she'd been slapped!  Samantha slapped her! “H...how da-”

“You shut the fuck up again.”

Ashlea's voice died on her tongue, as she swallowed, glaring holes into the girl astride her, while trying very hard to ignore how aroused the collar was making her.

“From now on, you will only ever call me Sam, even in private, even when I can't hear you. Not Samantha, not Sammy, not Sammy-girl, Sam.”

The force of the order slammed into Ashlea's mind, as she tried desperately to resist – no, no, her name wasn't Sam, it was Sam-... it was Sam-... it...

“Every... single... goddamn day... every day you called me the wrong thing. Well, now you never will again. You'll never torment me with that again.”

Sam-... Sa-... Sam's words crashed into Ashlea, wiping away any ability to say anything else. To do anything else to the girl who had her pinned to the ground. Any hope she had of salvaging the situation was dying by the second, as she lay there, unable to move, Sam's surprisingly strong body keeping her in place, her loose bathrobe falling open as she-

“... fuck, how wet is she?”

Oh god... no, no no no no, it was the collar, she wasn't getting off on this, she wasn't! She didn't want to be pinned down by Sam and-

Sam turned, looking between Ashlea's spread legs, looking at her bared and glistening folds. Her face shifted to confusion, then one of smug triumph, as she turned back to look at Ashlea, tugging lightly on her collar – the collar, the collar! – again.

“Ashlea. From now on, you may only speak to answer a question that you cannot answer with yes or no.” Ashlea shuddered, the command imprinting itself on her mind, the collar throbbing against her neck. “If yes is an adequate answer, you will nod your head, and if no is an adequate answer, you will shake your head.” The words etched themselves into Ashlea's mind – no, her very soul – as she shuddered beneath Sam's spread legs. “To anything else, you will speak only loud enough to be heard by whoever asks you the question, and you will answer promptly, politely, truthfully, and completely.” Ashlea's mind clamped down, lies... the very concept of lying, of even holding back – fleeing from her. Sam paused, clearly having some additional thought. “… Unless I command you do otherwise. Is that clear?”

Ashlea nodded. She nodded before she even thought to resist, and she quickly shoved that thought aside before the collar stabbed her with pain again.

Sam grinned. “Good. This applies to any question asked of you, not just by me. Got it?” Ashlea nodded again, a shudder running through her as new commands were etched into her soul. If she could just get the collar off, the commands would go away – Sam had proven that – but the second command given to her kept her from doing that. She couldn't. She had no chance to escape.

“Now then. What is my first name?”

“Your first name is Sam.” Ashlea's voice was filled with fear, fear she desperately tried to turn into anger.

She almost didn't completely fail.

Sam grinned. “Good girl,” she said, her voice laden with mockery. A shudder ran through Ashlea's body, those words feeling like a stroke across her sex, a touch to her nipples, and yet everywhere and nowhere at the same time – she... she was aroused because of the collar, it wasn't anything else, she had to remember-

“What does this collar do?” Sam tugged on the collar, grinning.

Ashlea tried to resist, tried to not give away the secrets, but a jolt across her temples loosened her jaw as she began to talk, far more levelly than she wanted to, giving away the collar's secrets. “Whoever is wearing the collar feels turned on at all times, and will automatically obey the commands of whoever put the collar on them, to the best of their abilities, for as long as they wear the collar, or until the commands are taken back. Following commands willingly is sexually stimulating to the wearer, as is being told “good girl”. Attempts to resist commands feel like being stabbed in the head. The person who put the collar on the wearer can trigger the punishment response at any time they want by willing it and snapping their fingers, though both willing it and snapping their fingers are necessary. If a later command contradicts an earlier command, the earlier command is ignored in that regard until the new command is fulfilled. All of these effects only last while the collar is being worn, but the collar can only be removed by someone who touched it before the collar was fastened on, including the wearer if not otherwise instructed not to.”

Sam smirked, as Kiara looked on, Lily simply blushing at the kinky discussion being had. “So following any commands feels good to you?” Kiara asked, an eyebrow quirked curiously. “From anyone?”

Ashlea blushed, wanting to resist – but the tingle of pain quickly kept her from that course, as she nodded, meekly.

Kiara gave an evil little smirk. “Say you're a naughty girl.”

Ashlea tensed, that shooting pain stabbing her in the temple again – but she bit down, and managed to resist, her breath shaky, the words trying to form on her lips – no, she could resist, she could hold back, especially with the earlier command to stay quiet fighting against it, she could-

Sam spoke up. “Say you're a naughty girl.”

“I'm a naughty girl.” The words formed on Ashlea's lips, no matter how hard she fought, a whimper rising in her throat.

“Oho. So you can resist other commands, but cannot resist mine.” Sam grinned, leaning in. “Well, I should fix that.” She turned Ashlea's head, forcing her to look her in the eyes. “Ashlea. From this moment on, you must follow any command either Kiara or Lily gives you, exactly as if I had given it to you.” She paused, thinking. “Unless a command contradicts a command you were given earlier, in which case you must state the contradiction as plainly as you can, instead of following the new command.” Sam grinned at that, looking around at both Lily and Kiara. “Seem fair to you two?”

Kiara smirked, giving a nod, as Lily's cheeks continued to grow pinker at the thought, clearly thinking something over instead of leaping immediately to Ashlea's defense.

Ashlea's heart sank. What did she ever do to Lily that could possibly turn her against her? Was she not kind, and caring, and yeah occasionally she needed to speak up when talking, but that's hardly-

Lily gulped, before speaking up. “Cluck... cluck like a chicken.”

Ashlea couldn't fight it back, her voice slipping past her lips - “I have been ordered to “shut the fuck up”, and thus cannot cluck like a chicken.” No... no! No, how could... that rule couldn't work that way, could... could it?

Lily steeled herself, seeming emboldened. “Never... never call anyone a... a tranny. Ever again!”

Ashlea gasped, feeling the compulsion set in, rules etching onto her soul. W...what? She... she sympathized with those freaks? She... no, she couldn't be, she... no, wait, he must-

“A...and only ever think of me as a woman! Never ask about what I used to be called! My name is Lily, and that's all!”

The rules burned into Ashlea's soul, as she writhed, her ability to resist completely overridden by Lily's command, piggybacking on Sam's clever rule. She couldn't resist hi... couldn't fight against what h... what she said.

“Woah, Lily... growing some backbone, girl! I like!” Kiara smiled, giving the tall woman a pat on the back, as Lily released a held breath, smiling.

Sam grinned, turning down towards Ashlea. “You heard her. You will call her Lily, you will only ever think of her as a woman, you will never ask what she used to be called, and you will never call anyone a... tranny,” she spat the word out, like it was poison on her tongue, “ever again.” Ashlea shuddered, the rules digging even deeper into her mind, etching themselves solidly in place where she couldn't peel them away – not as long as that collar was on her.

Kiara smirked. “You wanna say the same things, Sam? We're all friends here...” She chuckled. “Well, friends and one bitch who has to do what we say.”

Sam smirked. “Good point.” She sat upright, pushing Ashlea back down to the floor. “Ashlea. I am not a woman.”

Ashlea gasped. What? She... him too? Just how many tra... how many trann... how many were there in her maids?

“I'm nonbinary. You will not call me a man, you will not call me a woman, you will not think of me as a man, you will not think of me as a woman, you will not use the words “she” or “her” or “hers” or “he” or “him” or “his” to talk about me, or think about me, ever, no matter what.”

Ashlea shuddered, whimpering silently, as she felt the commands take hold of her mind, unable to resist as Sam's words settled over her.

“You will use “they” or “them” or “theirs” instead.” Another rule, another layer, another binding on her soul. “Do you understand?”

Ashlea nodded, eyes tearing up as she felt her morals stripping away. But... but tran... transgenders, she could think that – were awful! They were men trying to steal their way into women's spaces, or... or women, trying to get what men had taken from them! They... they couldn't be...

“Good girl.” A shudder passed through her, as the collar forced her to feel pleasure at submitting to what Sam was saying. They... they shouldn't be able to do that. She should've had them... he... hhhhhi....hhhhhhthem right where she wanted, but instead...

“Wh...what should we do about her now?” Lily asked, concern evident in her voice. “If... if someone else finds a loophole and lets her get that collar off, then... she won't be happy about this.”

Kiara shrugged. “I mean, what if we just tie her up in all this kinky shit and lock her in here? She's got the only key, and we can make her have to stay here.”

Ashlea shuddered at the thought, panting softly, her arousal still simmering away, feeling her wetness drip down from her folds – no... no they couldn't, they woul-

Sam smirked a bit, eyes sweeping around the room. “Ooo, that's a fun idea, isn't it. Hey, Ashlea. What exactly was your plan with me, and all this? How were you going to keep me from running off?”

Ashlea swallowed – oh thank fuck, that was allowed, she could delay at least a little – but the command drew the words from her once she was finished with that, no longer able to hold it back. “I bought a hood that would gag the wearer and make them unable to use their vocal cords. I was going keep you in this closet at night, with that hood on you, fucking you every night with the other toys in this room, until you were my willing sex toy as well, due to being too used to the pleasure of obeying to not follow my commands to stay. While I slept, I would have used toys on you that continued fucking you until morning, while also keeping you from cumming or needing to use the restroom. During your shifts during the day, you would have been ordered to say you bought the collar as a new accessory. Then once you couldn't resist me even without the collar, I would've done the same to Lily, and then Kiara, and then the rest of my female staff.”

Ashlea swallowed again. Her whole plan, laid bare, to the three wo... the three wom... the three people who would've been affected first.

Kiara glared at her, as Lily looked away, a hand rising to her lips in horror. Sam's face, however, was set and stern. “That plan means you are a very naughty girl, Ashlea.” They raised a hand, then snapped their fingers.

A shooting pain stabbed through Ashlea's mind, as the punishment effect bounded through the collar and into her head. No! No, no, no! She was owed this! She earned this! She put in the work, she found the artisans, she paid the money, she earned her harem of sex slaves! She should-

“And naughty girls get punished.” Sam rose up to their feet, grinning wickedly, their command keeping Ashlea pinned to the floor. “But some quick pain isn't enough, I don't think..." They turned towards the other two, sweeping their arms wide. "Do you agree, girls? Should a wannabe rapist get worse than just some quick pain and it be done?”

Kiara scoffed. “Fucking duh.”

Lily gave a tentative nod. “Y...yeah, I think so.”

Sam grinned, stepping over to nudge Ashlea with a foot. “Ashlea. You are not allowed to leave this room, this closet, unless one of us is accompanying you. If we must leave you, you return to this room as soon as you reasonably can without drawing suspicion. While you are in this room, you must never willingly try to leave on your own, or do anything to get the attention of anyone outside the room, for any reason. Are we clear?”

Ashlea shuddered, giving a nod. She understood the new rules being forced upon her, as much as she didn't want to. There was... there was just nothing she could do. This room was now her cage, and these three her jailers.

Lily blushed, speaking up. “A...and... and you must call me “Mistress Lily” when we're... when we're in private. Or... or if it's just any of us four.”

Ashlea winced, another jolt of pain as she tried to resist – but L... but Li... but Mistress Lily's command closed around her mind, and she was as helpless to resist as against any other.

Kiara chuckled. “Damn, girl. Get a taste for power and you really do want to go all out, huh?”

Sam smirked as well, nudging Ashlea again, harder this time. “Stand up. I rescind my order about not moving.” Ashlea shuddered, slowly rising to her feet, one hand rising to her hair towel, the other drawing her bathrobe around herself as best she-

“Ditch the bathrobe and towel. You're not allowed clothes unless we say so.” Kiara's words lanced through Ashlea's mind, her hands slipping away as she was forced to lay herself bare, the bathrobe slipping off her shoulders, a hand hesitantly trying to cover her bared- "If you are naked in our presence, you are not allowed to cover yourself with anything.  And when we allow you to wear clothes, you're only allowed the clothes we say you're allowed." No, no, no, this was all going so wrong!  Her hand slid away from her chest, her tits on full display, her other hand trembling slightly as it pulled away from her groin. “And call me Mistress Kiara, too. Unless someone who ain't here right now can hear you.”

Sam grinned, emboldened by Mistress Lily and K...Ki... Mistress Kiara's words. “Well... you may... no, must call me Mastress Sam.”

Ashlea held her breath, waiting for Sa.... for Mastress Sam to say something else... but... but they...

“All the time?” Kiara asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Or just “Mastress”, that works too, but yeah.  All the time.” They shrugged. “Though... Ashlea, you are allowed to call me Sam if someone other than us three comments. If they do, you must deny ever calling me Mastress.”

Ashlea whimpered silently – no, no, no! She... she had to call Mastress Sam Mastress Sam all the time? And... and only if someone commented could she stop?

“I am allowed to change this rule whenever I wish, though, if I decide you should always call me Mastress Sam without exception.”

Kiara chuckled, as Lily's face split in a shy, embarassed smile... no, no, they'd all... this can't...

“S...same... if... if I decide... you always have to call me Mistress Lily... then you have to always call me Mistress Lily, even if someone else is there!” Mistress Lily swallowed a little, before stammering out a quiet “but... but not yet. Just... just leaving it open.”

Mastress grinned, nodding. “Seems fair. Now then... you are allowed to speak, but not yell, Ashlea. If you are speaking to one of us three, you must do so politely and deferentially. I otherwise rescind my order about shutting the fuck up. Are we clear?”

Ashlea blushed, giving a small nod to Mastress Sam. “W...we're clear, S...Ssssss....” The pain tingled at her temple, threatening to stab deeply as she tried to resist – until she hung her head, cheeks burning. “Mastress Sam.”

Sam grinned brightly at that. “Oh, good girl!” A shudder wound its way through Ashlea's body, as her pleasure lightly spiked – it... it felt good... it was the collar, but it felt good... she wanted to fight it, but fighting it hurt...

And going along... it felt good...

“But of course, we have a long way to go yet.” They grinned, looking Ashlea over, considering what to do. “Hmmm... I think I will call you “pet”. You do have that collar, after all.” They smiled, a closed fist coming down on their open palm as they reached a decision. “Pet, you said you had orgasm blockers. Find one and hand it to me. Whichever is closest.”

Ashlea blushed brightly, her hands moving as she turned towards the shelves, starting to open them up as she dug around, looking for whatever she could find... she tried to not look – if... if they were all buried in the back somewhere, then... but no, she had to actually find it, the pain at her temple told her, not just look for it. She needed to succeed, and... and she knew they were in the room... she knew which shelves and drawers they were in...

“Oh, but if you have any orgasm blockers that go in your ass, skip those. I want to fuck your ass myself. Grab me a fancy feeldoe or strapon or something while you're in there, too.” Ashlea whimpered, hope dwindling fast as her fate was laid out clearly before her, Mastress Sam laying down the rules while Mistresses Lily and Kiara went along with their plans. "And not the one you most want me to use - grab me the biggest dildo you think you can take up your ass!" She shuddered, the commands forcing her hands as they moved towards the cabinet that contained what her Mastress sought... if... if only someone else would come in and-

Mistress Kiara smirked a little. “I'mma give us some privacy, I think.” She strode out the door while Ashlea wasn't looking, but she could hear the bedroom door lock with a sharp click.

There would be no rescue.

Her fate was sealed.