“I can’t believe a house like this has such a shitty security system,” Kathryn remarked, stepping over the threshold. “You’d think they’d pay for something that coulda given me a decent challenge.”

“Stupid rich bitches,” Stella cackled, following her inside with an empty duffel bag in each hand. “So convinced that nothing like this could ever happen to them!”

They’d entered the house to find a vast hallway - Kathryn was pretty sure it was big enough to fit her entire apartment - with a black-and-white linoleum floor patterned like a chess board. Open doorways led off to different rooms in the huge house, and there was a wide staircase with a golden banister on the opposite end of the room. In the centre of the hall was a small wooden table, atop which stood a little sculpture of a nude woman in a graceful pose. Stella approached it, wrinkling her nose. “Tacky,” she muttered, “but probably worth something.”

Handing one of the duffel bags to her partner, she unzipped the other, grabbed the sculpture - which caused her hand to dip, as she had clearly underestimated its weight - and stuffed it inside. Without another word, she made for the nearest doorway and went through to raid the room beyond.

Kathryn followed, curious to see the spoils Stella would discover. As she traversed the chessboard floor, she cast a glance back at the front door of the house, her brow creasing slightly. It really had been very easy to disable the security system... too easy?

She’d always had a knack for getting into places - she’d picked her first lock at the age of three, broken through her first electronic lock at eight, and hacked her first CCTV system at eleven. She’d applied to numerous security companies as soon as she left school, believing her innate understanding of security systems combined with her self-taught skills would be enough, but with no references or formal training, no prospective employers would take her seriously, and she was left unemployed, broke and despondent.

It had been her longtime fuck-buddy Stella who’d suggested she use her talents for crime - “If the good guys don’t want ya, be a bad guy,” she’d joked. “At least that way you get those dollar bills.” Afflicted as she was with a modicum of conscience, Kathryn had taken a little more persuading, but her dire financial situation had been enough of a motivating factor. She had to admit, so far it had paid off fairly well. The partners-in-crime had a good system - Stella chose the target, they staked it out for a few days, Kathryn determined whether she thought she could get them inside (which she usually could), they raided the joint, took as much as they could carry, went back to their apartment, had sex, took their findings to a fence a few pieces at a time, got a fairly substantial amount of cash, and had sex again. Simple, but effective.

It wasn’t the first ‘rich bitch’ house they’d looted, and Kathryn really had been anticipating more of a challenge. She thought wealthy people were supposed to be paranoid about protecting their valuables. She’d expected the security system to fold before her superior skills, but she hadn’t expected it to fold that fast. Something about that disturbed her slightly, but she couldn’t put her finger on why, exactly. Shaking her head dismissively, she decided Stella was probably right. The assholes who lived here probably didn’t expect anyone to actually dare to break in.

Strolling into the dining room, she found Stella holding two ornate crystal glasses she’d found in an oak cabinet against one wall. “Y’see, this is why we can’t have nice things,” she said bitterly. “Because these upstart cunts bought ’em all.”

“Right, because we could’ve afforded to buy those anyway,” Kathryn sniggered.

The brunette grinned amiably. “Fair point!”

As the blonde thief collected up some fancy-looking candlesticks on the mahogany dining table, her accomplice stowed the antique glasses in her bag, enveloped in some bubble wrap she’d brought. She then reached out with a gloved hand and carelessly knocked down a large picture frame, checking behind it for a wall safe. (Stella habitually sought out wall safes in rich people’s homes - if they had one, that’d be where the owners kept their most precious valuables, or most of their cash.)

Kathryn flinched as the frame shattered on the tiled floor. “I’m gonna, um, go upstairs.” Stella grunted in response, examining the clearly-blank wall for any sign of a hidden door.

Shaking her head exasperatedly, the young criminal left the dining room and made for the winding stairs, hearing another crash as she walked away. Burglary was one thing - she was able to tell herself it was imperative for her survival - but she balked at her partner’s petty vandalism. She wished she had the guts to stand up to Stella about it, but at least she could avoid causing any unnecessary damage herself.

“What?” Stella called after her.

She froze, one foot on the bottom step. “What, what?” she shouted back.

Stella emerged halfway through the dining room doorway, holding another picture frame, which displayed a painting of a lighthouse at sunset. “Did you say something?”

“Just that I’m going upstairs...”

“No, after that.”

“No,” Kathryn said, nonplussed.

“I coulda sworn...” Stella glanced around the hallway, looking confused, and then shook her head and smiled. “Guess I’m going crazy!”

“Crazier,” Kathryn replied drily. Tutting and grinning, Stella ducked back into the dining room.

Venturing upstairs, Kathryn made for the master bedroom. From their days surveilling the house, she knew the owners were a childless husband and wife, so there must be valuable jewellery around somewhere. Sure enough, as she entered the bedroom, she saw an antique white dressing table with various objects on its surface, including a maple jewellery box. Crossing to the table, she picked the box’s basic lock with her trusty hairpin.

A faint buzzing sound came from behind her, and she spun around, startled. But no-one was there, and the sound was gone... or was it? Concentrating furiously, she thought she could make out an almost inaudible hiss - it sounded almost like... whispering.

Or maybe it was just the staticky sound that some devices made if they were left on standby. That was more likely. Why would it be whispering, anyway? There was no-one here except her and her accomplice downstairs - she was certain of that. She couldn’t distinguish any words, anyway. Yeah, it was just some hissing computer or TV somewhere in the house, nothing to concern herself with. She was just imagining the whispering. Let’s not tell Stella about that, she thought with an embarrassed smile. Can’t have her thinking I’m going as crazy as her...

Still hearing the indistinct murmurs, but disregarding them completely, she turned her attention to the jewellery, picking up a pair of diamond earrings. She found herself thinking about the earrings her own mother had left to her, the only memento she had of her. What if the woman who owned this house had inherited these from someone she’d loved, too?

She frowned. “Stop it,” she told herself. Back when she and Stella had begun their crime spree, she’d often had these pangs of guilt, but had trained herself to suppress them. Suddenly though, she couldn’t really remember how.

She tried telling herself that the rich bitch hadn’t inherited these earrings - it was far more likely that she’d bought them in an extravagant spending spree, or bid for them at auction. But now that Kathryn had made the comparison with her own most precious keepsake, she couldn’t get it out of her head. Slowly rolling the earring between her thumb and index finger, watching the gemstone sparkle in the sunlight, she couldn’t stop imagining what it’d be like if she returned home one day to find her Mom’s earrings gone, stolen from her. She could practically feel her heart ripping in half at the thought of it.

Get ahold of yourself, she thought furiously, returning the earring to the mound of glittering bracelets, bangles and necklaces inside the box. Look at everything they have. They deserve whatever’s coming to ’em. They’re richer, luckier, better people. They deserve this...

She caught herself. ‘Better’ people? No, no they’re not. They’re not better than me...

But could she say that with any real conviction? Maybe the wealthy couple weren’t great people. They were unlikely to be saints who used their excessive wealth to help others. But they weren’t the criminals here. Kathryn was the one who’d broken into their home, not the other way around. So how could she claim they weren’t better than her? They were likely to be less guilty than her, anyway...

“Better people,” she mumbled, staring dejectedly at the heap of jewellery. They deserve this. All of it. I shouldn’t... I can’t take it from them...

She shook herself again. This was a dangerous line of thought. This was a line of thought that led to stupid decisions, like leaving valuables unstolen, or leaving DNA evidence at a crime scene... or turning oneself in. Even those thoughts did little to dislodge the dark throbbing mass of guilt growing larger and larger in her chest.

She had to talk to Stella. Stella never felt any qualms about their crimes. Her attitude was exactly what Kathryn needed right now.

Padding across the soft carpet and out into the hallway, Kathryn opened her mouth to speak at the sight of Stella, but stopped short. Her partner stood at the top of the stairs, staring into space with glazed eyes, the barest hint of a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

Stella didn’t answer right away, chewing her lip as her frown deepened. “Does this... feel right, to you?” she said at last.

“How d’you mean?” Kathryn asked cautiously.

“I... all of a sudden, I just feel like...” Stella swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and met Kathryn’s eyes. “What we’re doing here - it feels wrong. We shouldn’t be doing it - robbing these people. I know I don’t usually care, I’m usually having too much fun to think about the consequences - but this doesn’t feel fun. It feels... bad.”

A small part of Kathryn was confused, wondering why Stella was suddenly feeling remorse over their misdeeds. But the rest of her felt an overwhelming sense of, if not relief exactly, then validation. If Stella, of all people, was having misgivings, then her own gnawing guilt couldn’t be ignored. And once she realised that, it was like a dam broke inside her, flooding her with a torrent of dread. What had she done? How could she ever make amends?

Stella looked as bereft as Kathryn felt. “I guess I never really thought about the people we stole from as, like... people,” she admitted. “But now I can’t stop thinking about how shitty it’d feel if someone did this to me...”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Kathryn blurted, and was shocked by how tremulous her voice sounded. “It’s awful.”

Stella glanced at the front door. “Should we leave, or...?”

Kathryn considered the option for a second, and dismissed it. “I mean, just ditching the stuff and getting out of here doesn’t seem like enough. We broke in - we violated their home.”

“I broke shit,” Stella mumbled, looking quietly distraught.

“Exactly. We should make amends somehow. We shouldn’t run, we should... uh, we should...”

The solution came to Kathryn all of a sudden, and with it, a tidal wave of relief. Everything was going to be alright. She knew how to fix it. She knew how to gain absolution for her crimes.

“We should stay,” she declared, beaming at her bewildered partner, “and apologise. We should clean up the mess, put everything back, and then wait for them, and beg them for forgiveness - for the chance to earn their forgiveness... by becoming their servants!”

Stella’s eyes widened, and for a moment Kathryn worried she might reject the suggestion. Then she smiled ecstatically. “That’s a fantastic idea!! We can make it up to them by doing anything they want - everything they want - for however long they want!”

“Yes. Yes! We can stay here, be their live-in maids and cooks and, I dunno, dog-walkers or something...” She choked with laughter. “I, I mean, we wouldn’t - ‘servant’ isn’t even the right word, we’d be more like their slaves.” As soon as she said the word ‘slaves’, warmth spread through her body. ‘Slave’ felt right. It felt perfect. It was exactly what she’d be for the people she’d wronged so badly, for as long as they wanted or needed her.

Stella looked similarly enthused. “We’d better get to it,” she announced, hurriedly making her way back down the stairs. “You put everything back. I’ll see if I can find a broom, or a dustpan and brush or something, and deal with all the stuff I smashed.”

“On it!”

They set to their tasks, both markedly cheerier than they had been a couple of minutes ago.

***

A short while later, with the stolen goods returned to the spots from which they’d been taken, and the broken glass and picture frames in the dining room all swept up, the two reformed thieves reunited in the entrance hallway. As Stella exited the dining room, she and Kathryn failed, yet again, to notice the small, round speaker mounted above the top corner of the door frame, which had been emitting subliminal messages ever since they’d entered the house. Undetected by Kathryn, the secondary security measure had kicked into action when she’d disabled the main system, slowly brainwashing the two intruders until they were ready to submit to the homeowners’ authority indefinitely.

The speaker, one of many secreted around the house at high vantage points, was jet-black, aside from a tiny silver logo. Even if the young women had seen it, it was too far away for them to make out the words ‘ESTRO, INC’.

Approaching the front door, Stella dropped to her knees on the right side, so she’d be on the homeowners’ left when they entered. Kathryn knelt next to her. “Good call,” she praised her partner. “This’ll work much better if we’re literally begging for forgiveness on our knees.”

“I know, right? Plus, we’re at a perfect height.” Stella smirked, nudging her. “I was just thinking, wouldn’t that be an even better way to work off our debt to them?”

Kathryn shot her a look, her eyebrows raised high. “What - offering our bodies to them? Whoring ourselves out to them? Being not just their slaves, but their sex slaves? Letting them use us and fuck us whenever and however they want?”

There was a brief pause.

“That’s an awesome idea, Stel!” Kathryn cried, clapping her hands together. “Oh man, they’re gonna be so happy. I mean, we’re so good at sex, after all...” She smiled coquettishly.

“We are!” Stella chuckled. “And we’re super hot, too...”

“Super hot. Plus, no-one takes it up the ass quite like you.” Kathryn winked at her partner.

“Mmmm, I can’t wait to be their little anal slut,” Stella moaned, clutching at her clothes. Unable to resist the sight of her so titillated, Kathryn leaned close and kissed her passionately, their tongues entwining.

They parted after a minute or so, staying on their knees, Kathryn’s head resting on Stella’s shoulder. Both of them were idly pawing at themselves, still so turned on by the prospect of willingly surrendering themselves into sexual slavery.

“D’you think they’ll ever let us go?” Kathryn asked eventually. The question was utterly nonchalant, devoid of fear or trepidation.

“I hope not,” Stella laughed. “And why would they? A couple of gorgeous slavegirls who’ll cook and clean and tidy and fuck as much as they want? Who would ever give that up?”

Kathryn grinned contentedly, sitting up straight again as the anticipation reinvigorated her. She couldn’t remember ever being so happy. She finally had a future - she didn’t have to keep struggling through life, robbing the rich to feed herself. She could simply look forward to a life in service to her social, financial and moral superiors.

There came the sound of a key clicking in a lock. The two former criminals exchanged a glance, and an excited giggle, before bowing their heads deferentially at the front door as its handle turned, ready to serve their new owners.