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Candice Parker - Part 4 Chapter 11 - Veronica in Wonderland The following morning, Candice awoke to the beeping of her alarm clock, which she hadn't set. Startled, she immediately sat straight up. She instantly and clearly recalled every word that was said, every secret that was shared, every weakness that was exposed. "The wine hit me pretty hard, but the tea must've kept my memory clear," she opined. She had been undressed by Ms. Rockwell, who saw her drunk and naked. Candice smiled, as she realized that Ms. Rockwell had neither taken advantage of her nor left her downstairs. Instead of feeling ashamed, Candice was thrilled to have found a new friend... and possibly a mentor, which she desperately needed. After a quick shower, she sprayed herself with Chanel Chance eau de parfum, did her makeup, and got dressed, as fast as she could. While her nails remained the bright orange-red she had painted them two days ago, she went with a deep pink lipstick and blush to soften her look. She kept her eye shadow conservative, but gave herself a thick black coat of liquid eyeliner on her lids, with subtle wings. A light coating of black mascara completed the look. Knowing that she would be meeting with Ms. Rockwell in a more official capacity today, Candice chose a stylish, cobalt blue, sleeveless dress with a high neckline and a knee-length, straight skirt. Underneath, she wore a powder pink bra, panties, the obligatory gaff, and a half slip. These undergarments weren't lacy, but they were silky and very comfortable. However, the front center of the bra and the front waistband of the panties did have matching bows, providing a subtle touch of femininity. She chose a long, thin, gold necklace with a heart-shaped pendant to drape over the deep cobalt background of her dress. She wore long, dangling, gold earrings to match, with little hearts at the tips. Taking a cue from Ms. Rockwell's previous look, she wore her hair up to show off the earrings. For her septum, she selected a gold, hinged twelve-gauge ring. On her left wrist, she wore a thin, gold watch; and on her right wrist, two gold bangle bracelets. Her only finger ring was a golden band with a single deep blue sapphire in the setting, which she wore on the pinky finger of her right hand. To accent her bare legs, she wore blue ankle-strap sandals with one inch platforms and four inch block heels. They had a single thick strap at the base of her toes, and two straps that crossed behind her heels and fastened around her ankles with gold buckles. Satisfied that she was presentable, she pranced her way downstairs, looking forward to a full breakfast. "Good morning, Miss Parker. It's nice to see you out of uniform, and so early at that," joked Mrs. Belfridge. While they still addressed each other in a formal manner, some of the staff had grown comfortable enough with their employer to engage in a bit of good-natured ball- busting, on occasion. That was a natural consequence of working together, just as Ms. Rockwell had warned. Candice giggled back. "And good morning to all of you, as well. Oh, Mrs. Belfridge, I apologize, but I won't have time to help out today. I have some matters to attend to later." "Will you be eating breakfast this morning, Miss Parker?" asked the cook. "As a matter of fact, yes. I'd like a huge stack of blueberry waffles smothered in whipped butter with blueberry syrup, a full plate of hickory-smoked bacon, and a whole pitcher of fresh orange juice, please. I'll be in the small dining room brewing my morning tea." Candice was a true tea connoisseur, and she always brewed her own tea, gongfu-style. She found that the preparation ritual kept her grounded, and she enjoyed brewing the tea as much as drinking it. Even when she was relatively poor, it was one luxury that she allowed herself, although she now could afford much rarer teas. Amazed, the staff members exchanged glances after Candice left the kitchen. "I don't know what's gotten into our young Miss, but I certainly approve," opined Mrs. Belfridge. The cook smiled and nodded in agreement. It was a rare opportunity to impress the boss with her cooking, and the cook did not fail. Candice couldn't recall any meal that she had enjoyed as much, nor had she ever eaten so much at once. Fully satisfied, and feeling a tad gluttonous, she returned to the kitchen to praise the cook before heading to her G.E.M.'s office. "Come in," replied Ms. Rockwell, to the knock at her door. Candice slipped in and closed the door behind her, as though she had just entered a secret clubhouse. "Thank you for getting me upstairs last night. I'm sorry I was so much trouble," she whispered. "No thanks needed. It's part of my job to protect the estate's public image," teased Ms. Rockwell. "I'm just glad that you survived two whole glasses of wine. You weren't being modest about your low tolerance. I also see that you're out of uniform. That dress suits you, though. I think that shade of blue is your color, if I may say so, 'Miss Parker'." Ms. Rockwell placed emphasis on addressing her boss in a playfully formal manner. "Thank you. I also appreciate... well, everything from yesterday. I really needed the 'girl talk,' even if I didn't realize it before. I feel better than I've felt in a long time." "Believe me, we both benefited. Although I have to admit that when I awoke this morning, I wasn't sure whether to think of you as my current employer, my future maid, or my new friend. Not that the three need be mutually exclusive, but I should be more careful, from a professional perspective. I've been the General Estate Manager for only a few weeks, and I've already gotten kinky and friendly with my employer. Under normal circumstances, I'd consider my behavior disgraceful. Throughout my career, I've always been completely professional, until now." "Please don't regret yesterday, Ms. Rockwell. I'm so glad you didn't resign." "From a selfish perspective, so am I. But after yesterday, I'm... conflicted." Unlike Candice, Ms. Rockwell barely slept last night, after bonding with Candice all day Sunday and then tucking her into bed. Employee, employer, big sister, potential lover, dominatrix, best friend, surrogate mother, kink mentor... who was she to Candice at this point? Ms. Rockwell had a difficult time categorizing their relationship, which weighed heavily on her normally well-ordered mind. "Then I got here just in time!" Candice smiled. "We were so busy talking about other things yesterday, that I never got around to telling you something important." Ms. Rockwell raised her eyebrows. "Another secret?" "Mmm-hmm." Candice playfully nodded. "Girl, you have far too many secrets for someone so young. You're not supposed to be so mysterious until you reach my age." "Come on, let's go." "You can't tell me here?" "It's something that I have to show you, in my bedroom." "Sweetie, I've heard that one before." Candice laughed. "No, nothing like that. It's business. Oh, wait, that sounds even worse!" "As much as I enjoy watching and listening to you put your foot in your mouth, maybe you'd better just go ahead. I'll follow you up in a couple of minutes, so that we don't look like teenage lovers, in case the staff sees us." "Oh, good idea!" Candice quickly left and scampered upstairs. Ms. Rockwell was becoming strongly attracted to her, as Candice's behavior seemed to be getting cuter by the hour. It wasn't just the multiple bottles of wine she had consumed yesterday, nor was it the lure of her employer's vast wealth; she had developed genuine feelings for Candice, despite being nearly twice her age. It was getting very difficult to focus on work, and she wasn't used to being off of her game. "Perhaps this whole thing is a bad idea after all," she thought. More and more, signing that resignation letter seemed like the appropriate thing to do, and the sooner, the better. Still, her curiosity had to be sated, so upstairs she went. The door was open, and Ms. Rockwell entered Candice's enormous master bedroom for the first time since the grand tour. Candice was standing just inside, and she immediately took her G.E.M.'s hand while closing and locking the door behind them. The bedroom was so spacious that Ms. Rockwell joked, "Maybe I should've worn track shoes instead of these heels." "Shhh. This way," playfully whispered Candice, as she led her past the bed, past the master bathroom door, and into a large walk-in dressing area with multiple closets. "Let me guess; the new maid uniforms that you picked out arrived for me to inspect?" "No ma'am, but the new uniform samples that the shop helped me design should be delivered in a day or two so that I can model them for you. That'll be so much fun! As we hire new staff, we'll take their measurements and have each uniform 'maid' to order." Candice over- emphasized the intentionally cringe-inducing pun, causing her G.E.M. to roll her eyes. "Anyway, this has to do with that 'kinky punishment' stuff we detailed in our maid contract Sunday morning. Remember, you mentioned that we'd need a private place for you to discipline your maid when she inevitably messes up?" "Yes, of course I remember. Unlike a certain maid, I can handle my wine." Still holding hands, Candice led her to the back of a shoe closet and pulled aside one of the racks, which, at first glance, had appeared to be fixed in place. She then knelt down and pulled back a section of the baseboard to reveal a latch. Upon pulling the latch, a panel of the wall slid open to reveal a secret door. Candice punched in a secret code on the security panel, and the door opened. Taking her G.E.M.'s hand again, Candice led them down a short hallway to an elevator, which took them down to the second level of the basement. They walked down yet another hallway to another security door. After the door beeped and opened, Candice motioned to her G.E.M. "After you, Mistress." By this point, Ms. Rockwell correctly had assumed she was being led to a hidden BDSM playroom, but what she saw was on an entirely different scale than what she had imagined. "GODDAMN!" "I know, right?" "H-How? How can this exist? This isn't a playroom or even a dungeon. It's a goddamn BDSM amusement park!" "The previous owners, Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, were a lifestyle Dom/sub couple. Apparently, this is how kinky billionaires play, and now I'm a kinky billionaire. After we finalize our contract, we can play here in private." "Candy... this is the largest open space in the entire mansion. It dwarfs the ballroom. How can it be hidden? How could someone not accidentally discover this?" "Because we're underneath the 'official' basement." "But... this had to have been built when the mansion was built. You told me Mr. Simmons' grandfather built this mansion. Was the whole family kinky? Is the blueprint for this mega-dungeon on file in some government office?" Candice smiled. She loved the fact that she could surprise and impress Ms. Rockwell to the point of cursing. "When his grandfather had this area built in the mid-1800s, along with all of the secret access points, its official purpose was as a combination wine cellar and storage area for commodities, such as precious metals, which he horded. I suppose his paranoia was justified, with the Civil War looming. During prohibition, when his father owned the mansion, part of this floor was sectioned off to serve as a luxury speakeasy and for illegal gambling events for friends of the Simmons family." "Amazing! And for two hundred years, it was owned by just three generations?" "Right. Both his grandfather and father waited until their fifties or sixties to have a child, and they each had only one son. Mr. Simmons' grandfather was well-connected in addition to being rich. He wanted to keep this lower basement a secret, given the political climate, so after the mansion's construction was completed, he was the only one with copies of the official blueprints. I suppose that was easier to do back then. At some point, his father had elevator shafts installed, which Mr. Simmons modernized decades later. The family 'conveniently' owned the elevator company, and managed to keep those renovations off the books. Someday, I'll take a visit downtown to see if the city archives have any blueprints on file. If they have anything at all, I'll bet this area isn't included. Anyone who would've been involved in the construction or who gambled here is probably dead by now, so we very well could be the only two human beings who know about it." Ms. Rockwell roamed the dungeon, admiring the collection of equipment as Candice continued playing tour guide. "Mr. Simmons said that when he took over the mansion decades ago, he and his wife quietly refurnished the sub-basement, turning most of it into this. Initially, they were going to use only a small part of it, but as you can see, their collection of BDSM furniture and equipment grew to the point that it took over nearly the entire area. The elevators have to be serviced every so often, but that can be done without revealing that the lower basement exists. That's why the hallways are there, separating the elevators from the actual floorspace. Unless you know otherwise, it simply looks like the hallway connects the elevator to the emergency stairs. There are two other access points on other ends of the sub-basement, making it easy for us to sneak in and out from different parts of the mansion. My estate still owns the same business that services elevators for private homes and small offices, guaranteeing discretion. It's one of the few holdings that Mr. Simmons didn't liquidate before leaving his estate to me, and he left me a lot of information and advice on how to be discreet about these things. These days, it's more difficult to hide maintenance records, but even though the elevators might be known to some, the sub-basement isn't." "Their taste in bondage furniture was just as as impeccable as their taste in office furniture. Candy, the finish on this metal work is superior to any other I've seen. The craftsmanship on the leather pieces, and the choices of the woods used... this equipment puts those old Rolls-Royce coach builders to shame." She should know. Over the course of her career, Ms. Rockwell had ample opportunity to inspect quite a few luxury cars, and quite a bit of bondage equipment. "Why do I have the feeling that I'm going to be making a lot of mistakes in my first term as a maid?" Candice playfully asked. "Honestly, I don't think I've ever been as impressed with anything in my entire life. Even the flow of the floorspace is perfectly thought out. All of the stations are exactly where they should be." "You haven't even looked inside the storage closets, yet. We have acres and acres of toys... whips, chains, gags, shackles, collars, and a lot of strange devices that I had to look up on the Web just to find out what they're for. I still haven't had time to go through all of it, but everything I've found is squeaky clean, aside from a bit of dust. No doubt, cleaning everything was Mrs. Simmons' job, as the submissive partner, but they hadn't used this room for years. All of it was covered with plastic sheets when I came down here for the first time." "Candy... actually, 'Miss Parker' (I'm on duty, after all), despite my state of amazement, I need to get back to work before I'm missed. I appreciate you trusting me enough to show me all of this; and with your permission, I'd like to come back later and make a full inspection." "Well, of course. After all, this will be your second office, in a way." Not facing Candice, Ms. Rockwell raised her eyebrows and smiled to herself, both in anticipation of said inspection, and in response to Candice's growing enthusiasm about their immediate future together. The girl was becoming more comfortable being in her presence, and trusting her more and more. If this arrangement was going to succeed, the two would have to develop a great deal of faith in each other in a relatively short time. "Perhaps this whole thing is a good idea after all," she thought. The two ladies headed back to the elevator. "Speaking of your office, we still need to finalize the details of the contract for Mr. Adams to approve. That was the other reason I came by to see you, but I needed to show you this first." "That's right. We nearly finished it yesterday before our little 'girl talk' diversion, so we have only a couple of loose end to tie up. I'll have an early lunch, and then we can meet at one-thirty. How does that suit you?" "Well, I'll have to juggle my schedule, but I think I can squeeze you in." "I'm so flattered that you're willing to make time for me in-between your chores." Later that day, they completed the contract, and a copy was sent to Mr. Adams, who gave it a final examination. Reluctantly, he deemed it to be as legally safe as possible for his client, and on the following day, the two ladies met with Mr. Adams at his office to sign the agreement and have it notarized. Ms. Rockwell elected not to involve her own legal counsel. Despite the fact that Mr. Adams was Candice's attorney, both parties agreed that he would keep the original at his office, and in the event that any disputes arose, the two parties agreed to informally meet with him first, before taking any formal legal action. He also would arrive at the mansion to check up on his client once each month, and speak with her by phone every two weeks in-between. At least at this point, Ms. Rockwell trusted Mr. Adams far more than he trusted her, but she understood that he simply was looking after his client's best interests. Having set a date for the contract to take effect, the next order of business was to dismiss the entire staff. Candice was going to miss them, but she knew it was necessary. A staff meeting was called for Friday morning. Chapter 12 - New World Order "Ah, good morning Mrs. Belfridge." "Good morning Ms. Rockwell. It seems that you've all been waiting on me." "No, not at all, Mrs. Belfridge. Apparently, we all decided to get going quite early this morning. We weren't scheduled to start for another twenty minutes or so, but now that we're all here, we can start the meeting early, if there are no objections." There were none. Candice, Ms. Rockwell, and the five remaining staff members were seated at the table in the large conference room in which Candice had held her first and only official staff meeting several weeks ago. However, as this was Ms. Rockwell's meeting, the G.E.M. sat at the head of the table, at Candice's insistence. For her part, Candice had brewed one of her favorite Chinese white teas for the staff, and encouraged them to serve themselves as they entered. Unlike the last time she had used this room, Candice felt completely relaxed; her G.E.M. was running things, now. Candice sat to her left, and Mr. Wilson to her right, directly opposite Candice. Ms. Belfridge sat beside Candice, with one of the other maids beside her. The cook sat next to Mr. Wilson, with the most junior maid sitting next to the cook. The pecking order zig-zagged down the table, purely by coincidence... or was it by instinct? "I apologize for taking so long to call this meeting, but I wanted to take a couple of weeks to get a feel for everyone's roles before I made any official decisions regarding restaffing the mansion. After careful consideration, I have decided to completely restructure the internal staff positions, outsourcing all of the full-time positions, similar to the gardening and other staff maintaining the exterior grounds." The staff couldn't contain their collective shock. "The bad news is that all of your positions are being eliminated. The good news is that Miss Parker has prepared a very generous severance package for each of you, as thanks for staying on through the transition." At this point, Candice rose and hand-delivered envelopes to each of the five staff members. "This severance package will be in addition to any retirement benefits that you already have earned while working for the estate. I'll answer any questions you have, but I ask that you please inspect the contents of your envelopes first. In the event that any of you decide to continue working elsewhere, both Miss Parker and I will be glad to provide positive references." After about half a minute, the most junior maid exclaimed, "Continue working elsewhere?! I'll never have to work again!" The cook turned her head to the maid and agreed. "Ain't that the truth! Ms. Rockwell, are you sure these numbers aren't typos?" "Miss Parker and I both checked the packages several times. The figures are accurate. However, you have Miss Parker to thank. She, and she alone, chose the amounts of the severance payments. They were deposited into your bank accounts this morning, just before the meeting. You still have final paychecks coming for this pay period, as well." Mrs. Belfridge finally collected herself. "You'll have to excuse my facial expressions of the past five minutes. This meeting has been quite an emotional roller coaster, for lack of a better term." Trying to calm herself, she poured herself a cup of tea. "Indeed," agreed Mr. Wilson. "This is hardly what I was expecting when I awoke this morning. Suffice it to say that your good news more than compensates for the bad." Ms. Rockwell nodded and smiled. "Also, while I apologize for the abruptness of this news and the short time frame in which you'll need to vacate the staff quarters, the estate will pay for your moving expenses, and I'll personally make all of the arrangements for you with the moving company. Are there any questions?" The second maid spoke for the first time. "Maybe it's not my business, and not that I'm ungrateful, but why?" All eyes, including Candice's, were fixed on Ms. Rockwell. "Obviously, neither Miss Parker nor I have anything against any of you. You've all been excellent at your jobs, and you've been willing to work overtime during this transitional period. Both of us appreciate that. However, as attached as Miss Parker has become to you, she hired me to run things my way. I think I can make the overall operation of this estate more efficient by taking a more modern approach and outsourcing these jobs. Not only will it will reduce costs over the years, but I think that I can be more efficient by managing independent contractors than constantly hiring and managing individual staff members. Also, that gets the estate out of the business of running health care and retirement benefits programs, which will be handled by the contractors, going forward. The estate already is doing that with the groundskeepers, so I'm simply expanding that policy to the mansion's interior operations." "Well, I wish you two the best, and I sincerely thank you, Miss Parker. Before Mistress Simmons recruited me, I always wanted to open my own restaurant, but I didn't have the capital to get started. Now, I do; and I won't have to go into debt." The cook was trying her best to hold back tears of joy. "Just promise me that I'll be invited to your opening night!" demanded Candice. "At the risk of getting ahead of myself, you're all invited, if I make it happen!" replied the cook. Ms. Rockwell was determined to keep the meeting on track. "Are there any other questions? Mr. Wilson?" "No, no, this is rather self-explanatory," said Mr. Wilson, glancing down at the severance documents. "And, like the others, I'm also very grateful." While she didn't bring it up, Candice noticed that Mr. Wilson seemed a bit dejected, although he tried to sound positive. "Well, if any of you think of any questions later on, please contact me directly. Effective immediately, all of you are hereby relieved of your duties. Officially, you are Miss Parker's guests until you move out. Meeting adjourned, and congratulations." Ms. Rockwell smiled and nodded to everyone on her way out, whereas Candice hugged everyone and stayed to chat for a bit with the cook and Mrs. Belfridge. The others went back to their quarters, presumably to contact their relatives regarding the good news. Unknown to the others, who were too busy with their own excitement, Mr. Wilson went for a slow, somber walk around the entire estate. Only Ms. Rockwell noticed him, through the window of her office. He had the look of a man who had just been laid off, without pay. Chapter 13 - Enter the Ronin Four days later, Mrs. Belfridge and the most junior maid had already moved out to stay with their respective families. The cook and the other maid, not having any local family, still were making arrangements for temporary apartments, until they decided where to live. Ms. Rockwell was busy typing a message to Henry Fernandez regarding the possibility of some unconventional job listings, when there was a knock at her open doorway. "Mr. Wilson, please come in." "I hope this isn't a bad time. Would you have a few minutes to spare?" "It's not a bad time at all. Please have a seat, and feel free to close the door, if you think it necessary." He did. "So, Mr. Wilson, what's on your mind? I can't help but notice that you're the only one who doesn't seem excited to be leaving." "You're quite perceptive Ms. Rockwell." "If there's a problem that any of you need help with, I'm here to help you make arrangements, and so is Miss Parker." "I'm afraid it's nothing like that, but I don't want to waste your time, so I'll be direct. Is there any possibility that I might be allowed to stay on here as a butler?" Ms. Rockwell slowly got out of her chair, walked around her desk, and sat in the other guest chair next to Mr. Wilson. She crossed her legs, rested her elbow on an arm of the chair, and rested her cheek on her fist. "Why would a millionaire want to work here as a butler, Mr. Wilson?" Initially, she wondered whether she had another submissive on her hands, but she waited for his explanation. For the next half hour, James Bartholomew Wilson proceeded to tell his life story. He had married his high school sweetheart immediately after graduation, but they both were from poor families. She secured a job as a maid in a mansion, and she was able to get him a job there running errands, part time. Eventually, he impressed his employer, and he was hired on as a full-time butler. His wife hoped to earn enough money to put herself through school to become a nurse, but she was diagnosed with cancer and died in her early twenties. Mr. Wilson found it too depressing to remain in the mansion, so he joined the United States Navy, mainly for a change of environment. While the change helped him through his grief, it also gave him a chance to see the world, and he realized that he was too young to give up on life. After his tour of duty was over, he decided that he actually preferred being a butler to any of his other options. Besides, living in a luxurious mansion, even in the servants' quarters, certainly had advantages over sleeping aboard ship for weeks at a time. While his previous employer had no openings, he did contact some of his friends on Mr. Wilson's behalf. Mr. Wilson was referred to Mr. Simmons for an interview. He immediately was hired, and he continually had worked at this estate until four days ago. While Mr. Wilson occasionally dated women, he never remarried, and he focused all of his energy and attention on his job. Without going into details, he explained to Ms. Rockwell that he had proved that he could be counted on for discretion in very delicate situations, and he became Mr. Simmons' "right hand man" in addition to being promoted to head butler for the mansion. He also held licenses as an armed guard, locksmith, and chauffeur. "So you see, Ms. Rockwell, I have nowhere to go, and nothing else to do with my life. While I have several licenses for the sake of convenience in performing my duties here, I'm not an expert in those fields, and I lack the business acumen to start my own company. I have no living family, and I've already seen the world. I'm... well, I'm used to being counted on. Mr. Simmons relied on me, and that made me feel... not just useful, but valuable. To be candid, I already have a couple of million dollars in my retirement fund. Even while Mr. Simmons was alive, I didn't need this job for the money anymore. It's just that I enjoy it. It makes me feel good to be needed, and I've always taken pride in my reputation for reliability and responsibility. Now, I suddenly feel pointless... like a ronin, if you're familiar with the term." "I am. You and I are more alike than I realized, Mr. Wilson. Like you, I no longer have to work, and in that regard, I practically told Miss Parker what you just told me. Running things is what I do. I'm good at it, and I enjoy it. It's what gets me out of bed in the morning." "So I don't sound crazy to you? You do understand the need to work, beyond simply earning one's keep?" "Very much so. I also know what it's like to lose someone. My fianc?© died several years ago. Without my work, I don't know how I would've coped." "I'm sorry to hear that, but thank you for telling me. I realize that what I'm asking doesn't fit into your plans, as you've described them; but after all of these years, I feel a connection with this estate. At my age, starting somewhere else would feel awkward. I was hoping that I could be useful to Miss Parker, and to you, just as I was to the Simmonses." Ms. Rockwell stood. "Let me discuss this with Miss Parker and get back with you. In the meantime, I'll suspend your departure deadline." "That's all I can ask. Thank you!" After Mr. Wilson left her office, Ms. Rockwell closed the door and went back to her desk. "Even putting sentimentality aside, he could prove to be a valuable asset for us," she thought. "But, we'd have to completely bring him on board. He'd need to know everything, or his value would be diminished. We'd have to show him that we trust him, but Candy might not be comfortable with exposing our little secret." There was a knock on the door. "Come in." Candice quickly darted in and closed the door behind her. She had been crying and her makeup was smudged. "Oh, that poor man! We have to let him stay! We can't just let him go after he shared all of that! I had no idea!" She started sobbing again, and her G.E.M. handed her a tissue. "Candy, were you eavesdropping behind the door that whole time?" "sob... sniffle... No, I was watching you guys on my cell. I relayed the A/V feed from the security command center... sniffle, sniffle" "What?! You were spying on me?!" "Yes. sniffle..." "Goddamn it Candy! What the Hell?!" Ms. Rockwell angrily whispered. Candice finally stopped her sniffling, but now she was scared because she was in trouble with her Mistress-elect. "I'm sorry. It's not like I'm always watching you or anything. I saw him come in here, so I knew something was up. He didn't seem too happy about being dismissed, even with that bonus." "Girl, how many secrets do you still have? You have a 'security command center' that I don't even know about?" Ms. Rockwell flashed air quotation marks at Candice. "I"m sorry. Mr. Simmons had every room in the mansion wired for audio and video, just in case. There's another secret room connected to my bedroom with multiple monitors, speakers, and computers." Ms. Rockwell put an elbow on her desk and held her forehead in her palm. "Jesus fucking Christ, girl! And I suppose you just happened to have a convenient app on your phone for that?" "Well, no, not exactly," Candice sheepishly replied. Ms. Rockwell looked up from her desk and stared down Candice, making her visibly nervous. "I had to write the code for the app myself. Mr. Simmons was a bit old fashioned, so his rig was set up to watch only from that room. I converted a router to send a signal to my phone anywhere in the mansion, but now I can also access it online, from anywhere in the world." "You wrote the code?" "Well, yeah, that was my job before Mr. Simmons died." "You were a professional computer hacker?" "Yes ma'am." "And you're just now telling me this?" "... ... Yes ma'am." "And you want to be a maid?" Foolishly, Candice made a lame attempt at deflection. "Um, shouldn't we be focused on Mr. Wilson?" "That's it! I'll show you some focus! Come with me, young lady!" Now in full Mistress mode, Ms. Rockwell grabbed Candice's hand and marched her upstairs to her own bedroom, locking the door behind them. Without saying a word, she pulled a large, wooden paddle out of a dresser drawer. Still grabbing Candice's hand, she sat on the end of her bed and pulled Candice over her lap. "Mistress" Rockwell then pulled up the skirt of Candice's dress, pulled down her panties and gaff, and went to town on the defenseless girl's backside. Candice was too shocked and excited to say or do anything. She took the first few licks like a good little trooper, but Mistress didn't stop. After fourteen or fifteen, the paddle stung her butt so badly that she lost count and started crying. She didn't dare say anything, knowing that talking would only make it worse. After thirty-three swats (neither woman knew the actual number), Mistress gently lowered Candice to the floor at her feet. She rose from the bed and walked to an end table where she picked up a box of tissues and brought them to her sobbing little maid-to-be. "Here." Candice hesitantly took the tissues and started wiping her eyes. "Now, stand up, girl." Candice braced herself on the end of the bed and stood. Mistress knelt down and pulled up Candice's gaff and panties. With her bare hands, she expertly tucked away the girl's little package, secured her gaff, straightened out the rest of her attire, and stood, as though she had done it many times before. "Candy, I know I'm jumping the gun by a few days, but you really pushed my buttons. Don't you EVER spy on me again, young lady! Do you understand me?" "Yes, Mistress," Candice sobbed. "While I'm not officially your employer until the first of the month, I'm not waiting until then to become your Mistress, because you're overdue for some discipline. Effective immediately, you'll address me as Mistress or Mistress Rockwell at all times. Until further notice, you're not allowed to leave the mansion, make any phone calls, or access the Internet with without my permission. I don't want you causing any more trouble between now and July. Starting next week, you'll be far too busy with your chores to spy on anyone, being the only maid." "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before." Mistress snapped up the paddle from the edge of the bed. "What did you just call me?" "Mistress! I meant Mistress! I'm sorry!" "All of the other employees will have the option of addressing me as 'Mistress' or 'ma'am' interchangeably, but not you." "I understand Mistress." "For your sake, I sincerely hope you do. Now, go to your room and fix your makeup. Of course, it won't be your room in a few days, so enjoy it while you can. I'll be there shortly, so leave the door unlocked." "Yes, Mistress." Candice obeyed her newly self-appointed Mistress and scurried away. Ms. Rockwell had taken a calculated risk by "opening her Christmas present early," as she characterized that scene in her thoughts. Fortunately, she correctly read Candice, who played along with the impromptu punishment scene; although her tears were real. That paddle stings, and she hit the girl hard. She actually wasn't that upset with Candice for spying on her, but she was quite frustrated that Candice conveniently was forgetting to share certain information with her. Having physically established her dominance, the new Mistress was feeling a rush of erotic power, but she resisted her very strong urge to masturbate. There was a mansion to straighten out, and it was time to get working. Candice had just finished fixing her makeup when her Mistress walked in without knocking. She instinctively curtsied. "Mistress." "Now, show me this 'security command center' I've heard so little about." Candice led her Mistress to another secret entrance to a relatively small room. The far wall was covered with monitors. There were two small leather chairs and a desk, with what appeared to be a very complex computer system, loaded with monitoring and recording software, some of it recently upgraded by its new owner. Candice showed her Mistress how every point in the mansion could be monitored, with both audio and video, including night vision. "Well, I won't judge Mr. Simmons. I'll assume he had good reason for setting up all of this. But as for you, young lady, this room is off limits to you until further notice... which means October, at the earliest. Understood?" "Yes, Mistress." "That reminds me. I might as well confiscate your cell phone now. Hand it over." Candice walked across the room to her purse and retrieved her phone, surrendering it to her Mistress. "Good. As per your employment contract, you'll be issued a maid phone on your first day, for internal communications. It'll be more of an electronic leash than anything else, and it certainly won't have any spying apps on it. If your attorney or accountant need to reach you, they'll call in on the mansion's main line, or directly call me on my cell phone." "Yes, Mistress." "You can keep your purse and wallet until July, but we'll lock them in a safe the night before, so that no one else can stumble across your identification. We can't have anything with your photo or real name lying about for another maid to find. As soon as the rest of the staff moves out, you'll move your essentials and toiletries to your assigned room in the servants' quarters. If you haven't already, start packing between now and then." "Yes, Mistress." "How does your ass feel?" "I'm very sore, Mistress. I looked at my bottom the mirror, and I'm all black and blue back there." "Excellent. I hope you've learned your lesson. Now, is there ANYTHING else that you need to tell me about yourself or this mansion before I completely take over operational command?" "Yes, Mistress." Candice proceeded to inform her Mistress of the multiple stacks of bars of precious metals, cases of gold and silver coins, and bags of precious gems that were stored in a vault in the basement. Mr. Simmons left detailed spreadsheets itemizing the contents, but at some point, the two would have to take a full inventory. When giving her Mistress the tour on her first day, Candice had shown her Mistress the trophy room with all of the Simmons family hunting and sporting gear, including several classic hunting rifles and shotguns made by Holland and Holland, Fabbri, Perazzi, Heym, Westley Richards, John Rigby, James Purdey, Beretta, and the like. However, there was a hidden stockpile of self-defense and military weapons, as well. "Those are exactly the types of things I'm talking about, Candy. Even if I don't need access to them myself, I still need to know that they exist. I might have to steer certain individuals away from certain parts of the mansion to protect our secrets, but I can't very well do that if I don't know the secrets. You need to trust me, understand?" "Yes, Mistress. There's one last thing. It's not something that I'm prepared to let anyone see right now, not even you. Mr. Simmons left me a large briefcase filled with data discs and papers informing me of all of the mansion's secrets, as well as a lot of personal information about his own life, and his family's history. Maybe someday I'll want to share it, but it's just too soon right now. But, it's something else that we need to keep locked up for the next three months." "I understand, Candy, and I respect your privacy where that's concerned." "Thank you, Mistress." "Now, sit down, if you can. We need to discuss the situation with Mr. Wilson. Emotionally, I think we'd both like him to stay, but we really need to decide whether it would be in our collective best interest. If we do allow him to stay on, we'll have to let him know about your maid fetish, our contract, and our unusual relationship." Candice gingerly sat down, keeping most of her weight on her thighs. "I know. Do you think he'd be creeped-out by us?" "Had you asked me that yesterday, Candy, I would've thought so. But after hearing him talk today, I think he's the type of person who'd give us a wink and a nod, and not only keep our secrets, but help us guard them." "That was my impression, too; but I'm a lot more naive than you, so I'll defer to your judgment when it comes to people. However, if you think he won't be offended by our kinks, then I do want him here. He's clearly a 'team player' type, assuming that he accepts our team. Also, he'll be able to take a little pressure off of you, when it comes to covering my true identity." "He would, at that. If he comes on board, we'd need to inform Mr. Adams and Mr. Wilson of each other's involvement," noted Ms. Rockwell. "Bringing in a fourth person is tricky. But I think it's worth the risk. Even if he's turned off by all of this and leaves, I think he's the type who'd keep it to himself." Candice still felt the sting on her backside, but she 'endeavored to persevere' (as the saying goes) with the conversation. "I certainly hope so. That's my main concern, allowing someone to know who's not even going to stay here. But I think he wants to stay here more than anything." "Agreed. Then it's settled. Go fetch Mr. Wilson and bring him to my office, and don't tell him anything. I'll do all of the talking, and if I want your input, I'll order you to speak." Candice smiled and blushed. "Right away, Mistress!" "And I thought life as a teenager was complicated," thought Ms. Rockwell.