"Are you done yet Millie?" Victoria called from the living room.
"Almost finished ma'am." The petite young woman hurriedly loaded the cups in the dishwasher and looked around beneath the sink for the detergent. She was a pretty girl of only twenty four. However, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, cheeks with a light coat of blush, sky blue eyeshadow, and pink lipstick, she looked nineteen.
"Hurry, you're embarrassing me in front of my friend."
"I'm sorry ma'am." Damn these people. Where was the fucking detergent? Her duties were trying at the best of times. Watching Victoria's brat of a son had been bad enough. Worse, now she was forced to be Victoria's personal servant. But to expect her to be able to work in a strange house was impossible. Not to mention, her tight form fitting uniform and high heels made work even more difficult.
Finally! She found the detergent, poured it in the dishwasher, and set it to running. Soon after, she set herself to running - running back to the living room, before she was any deeper in trouble.
"About time," Victoria sneered. "What took you so long?"
"I couldn't find the detergent ma'am."
"Idiot." Victoria said. To Sandra: "Good help is so hard to find these days."
Millie hated being talked about like this. More so, she hated listening to the two rich bitches go on about her like she wasn't even there.
"Yes, isn't it terrible," Sandra said. "Just last week, I had to let Maria go. I heard those people were hard working - well not from my experience. She was constantly making up excuses about having to stay home with a sick child or some such nonsense. Well, I had her sent back to Columbia pronto."
"Well, luckily I don't have to put up with that from my Millie," Victoria said. "But sometimes I don't know who does more work her or me constantly having to keep my eye on her. Isn't that right Millie?"
Millie's face burned a humiliating shade of crimson. "Yes, ma'am."
Victoria once again turned to Sandra and whispered conspiratorially, "You see, my Millie has some issues with self control. She is a petit voleur."
Sandra arched a curious eyebrow.
"A little thief," Victoria said. "Is that what took you so long Millie? Were you busy stealing her silver?"
Millie's eyes widened in fear and a fresh sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. "Oh no ma'am."
"She could have gone straight to my bedroom and have her pockets full of my jewelry," Sandra said. "I can't believe you would bring this into my house."
Millie hated the way Sandra said, "this" and nodded in her direction as if she weren't even a person.
"Don't worry dear," Victoria said, patting Sandra's knee to comfort her. "Her pockets are merely decoration. There are very few places for her to hide any jewels."
"I can think of a few places."
Old Bitch. Millie hated her already.
"Show her Millie," Victoria said. "Take off your dress."
The young maid blinked back her tears. She tried to tell herself that she was in her senior year of college. She tried to tell herself that this wasn't forever. She hated the gray dress she was wearing. It was a one piece utilitarian garment that screamed domestic help. She hated how people looked down on her while she wore it, but at least it afforded her a little protection. Her fingers fiddled with the top button, she looked imploringly at Victoria to spare her this indignity.
"There's always the alternative," Victoria warned.
The tears Millie had struggled to contain streamed down her cheeks, leaving trails of dark mascara. Her fingers trembled as they fumbled with the buttons of the dress. Her smooth young body slowly came into view, and a shake of the hips left her dress in a heap at her feet. With a hand over her pert breasts and another over her sex, she did her best to hide her privates from the lecherous gaze of this strange woman.
"A thief and a slut," Sandra said, her eyes hungrily devouring the naked girl standing trembling in front of her. "She's not even wearing underwear. What is she, some sort of prostitute as well?"
Victoria took it all in with a knowing smile. She supposed Millie was an attractive young woman, if a person was so inclined. She stood there obediently, clad only in a pair of black heels and sheer black stay-ups. She had a narrow waist and a plump ass. Her round breasts were pert in the way only a twenty-four year olds could be.
"She isn't allowed them," Victoria said. "It makes it very easy to inspect her to make sure she hasn't taken anything.
"Closer thief," Sandra sneered at Millie. "Closer, where I can see you."
"And move those hands out of the way," Sandra said. "How can I tell if you've hidden anything with those paws in the way?"
Millie meekly stepped forward and resumed her humiliating display in front of the two older women, one of which she didn't even know. Her chin trembling, her tears flowing freely down her rosy cheeks, Millie hated herself for allowing all this to happen. Hated how Victoria could turn her from a strong-willed young woman to a crying girl in the blink of an eye. She took a deep breath and moved her hands to her sides.
"Nothing hidden," Victoria said. "Satisfied?"
"Not quite."
To Millie's horror, Sandra reached down, and there could only be one place her hand could be going. "No," she cried out, her hands grabbing Sandra by the wrist.
"That bitch attacked me!" she rubbed her wrist where Millie had grabbed her. "Call the police, call them right now."
"No," Millie begged. "Please ma'am. I'm very sorry ma'am."
Things had gone from bad to worse. She was already guilty of stealing and now she could be charged with assault. She moved her hands out of the way, and turned her head to the side in submission.
Sandra smiled her face shining from her victory. Her hand resumed its trek between Millie's trembling thighs. Sandra took her time, making sure Millie suffered maximal humiliation. She pulled at her pink labia, investigating as if it were possible to hide something behind them. Then she dabbled around the opening to her sex. Millie cringed in horror, she tried to put her mind somewhere else. Tried in vain to keep thoughts of her situation, of this rich bitch groping around her sex, out of her head. Tried to keep from reacting. It was useless.
"She's wet," Sandra said. "The little slut's getting off on this or maybe - or perhaps she greased up her cunt in order to stuff my best jewels up there. Which is it you stupid girl? Do I arouse you or have you stolen my jewels?"
To Millie's dismay, Sandra now had three fingers pushed into her sex and pushing them all around. Worse, Sandra looked intent on forcing another finger or even her whole hand into Millie's already sore and painfully stretched sex. Millie took a look at the wicked old bitch tormenting her. This fifty year old spinster. This rich old bitch with her facelift and expensive clothes. She wasn't pretty by a longshot. Millie wasn't gay, and even if she were, she wouldn't be attracted to this old bitch.
But, she couldn't deny the betrayal of her body. She hated herself for it, but she was aroused. This old bitch, if not her look, then the way she was treating her, was turning her on.
"You-you arouse me, ma'am," Millie admitted, her face flushed from sexual excitement, her legs dancing like some sort of human puppet attached to Sandra's hand. It was the last thing in the world she wanted to say, but it seemed to be the only thing way to get the old woman to leave her alone.
Sandra smiled and withdrew her four fingers from Millie's sex. She sat, idly teasing the young woman's pink folds and distended clit.
