Story: Biometrics don't lie. Part 18.

by Melissa

Part 18. The price of pleasure.

As I walked back to the maid's quarters, I couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. It had been wrong, so wrong, but there was something about the way Sabrina had taken control that had stirred something deep within me. I tried to shake it off, to focus on finding a way out of this situation, but the memory clung to me like a sticky web. I felt a strange heat pooling in my stomach, and my cheeks burned with a mix of anger and something else - something I didn't dare to name.

In the quiet solitude of my room, I couldn't escape the feeling that had taken root. The way Sabrina had touched me, the way she had made me submit, it was as if she had unlocked a part of me that I had never known existed. I tried to tell myself that it was just the stress, the fear, that was making me feel this way, but deep down, I knew it was more. There was a thrill in the submission, a dark allure that whispered to me, promising an escape from the harsh reality of my predicament.

I lay on my narrow bed, my body feeling both heavy and restless. My mind replayed the scene in the lobby over and over again. Each time, the kiss grew more intense, more demanding. I felt the softness of her lips, the warmth of her breath, and the way she had claimed me as her own. It was a strange mix of anger and arousal that surged through me, leaving me feeling both violated and... excited. I buried my face in my pillow, trying to muffle the soft moan that escaped my lips. My hand, seemingly of its own accord, began to drift down my body. My skin felt feverish and sensitive, the fabric of my maid's uniform too rough against my skin. I slipped my hand under the fabric of my panties, my heart racing as I touched myself. It was as if I was trying to erase the memory of Sabrina's fingers on me, to claim back some semblance of control. My fingertips brushed against my clit, and I gasped. It was swollen and sensitive, and I realized that I was wet, soaking wet, from the encounter.

I couldn't believe it. I hated the way Sabrina made me feel, the way she made me crave something that I didn't even understand. But as my fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, I couldn't deny the response my body was having. It was as if she had flipped a switch inside me, one that I didn't even know existed. The anger and fear and humiliation all coalesced into something... else. Something that made me feel alive. My breath grew ragged as I touched myself, my imagination conjuring up images of Sabrina standing over me, watching me with that smug smile on her face. But instead of the fear and anger, there was a new emotion there - one of submission, of letting go. And it was terrifying. I didn't want to want this, didn't want to be the kind of person who found pleasure in being used and degraded. But as my orgasm grew closer, I couldn't help but embrace it. It was a release, a way to take back some of the power that she had stolen from me.

Story: Biometrics don't lie. Part 17.

by Melissa 

Part 17. Under Sabrina's thumb. 

The morning sunlight streamed in through the dusty window, casting long shadows across my cramped room of the maid's quarters. I groaned, rolling over to avoid the rays. I had been sleeping on a hard cot for two weeks, ever since I had been mistaken for a delinquent girl and forced to become a school maid at Elmwood Academy. My dreams of a posh private school had turned into a nightmare of endless chores and the strict supervision of Mrs. Henderson, the head maid. Despite my attempt to clarify the identity mistake with the Dean, Mrs. Cavendish, my situation remained unchanged. Mrs. Cavendish, with an air of unwavering resolve, insisted I maintain my duties as school maid while she investigated the matter further. This left me in a peculiar position, unsure of the future but committed to fulfilling my assigned tasks for the time being. 

Today was different from other days though. Mrs. Henderson was away for several hours, and Sabrina, another school maid who I had grown to loathe, was in charge. Sabrina was often cruel to me, taking pleasure in humiliating me. I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread as I climbed out of bed. 

As I made my way downstairs, I noticed that Sabrina was already waiting for me in the kitchen. The normally cheerful room was now tense and uncomfortable. "Good morning, Melissa," Sabrina said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I hope you're ready for another day of hard work." I forced a weak smile, not wanting to antagonize Sabrina further. 

I followed Sabrina through the hallways, past the empty classrooms and locked doors. Today, I was assigned to clean the science lab. My heart sank as I remembered the last time I had been in there. I had accidentally broken a beaker, and Mrs. Henderson had scolded me severely. 

While I wouldn't normally be allowed in, Sabrina used her fingerprint to grant me access to the lab. I felt a shiver of anxiety run down my spine. "Now, Melissa," Sabrina said, her voice low and threatening, "I want you to clean this place spotless. And if I see even the tiniest speck of dust, you'll be sorry." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. 

I took a deep breath and began to survey the lab. It was a mess. Beakers and test tubes were scattered across the counters, and the floor was covered in a layer of grime. I grabbed a mop and bucket and started to clean, methodically scrubbing the tiles until they shone. As I worked, I couldn't help but wonder when Mrs. Henderson would return. I didn't trust Sabrina to be in charge for very long. 

Story: Biometrics don't lie. Part 16.

by Melissa 

Part 16. The steep price of Maria's forgiveness. 

The phone rang shrill in the quiet of Maria's apartment. She eyed it with suspicion, the memory of Agnès' last call sour in her throat. Finally, with a huff, she snatched it up. "Hello?" 

"Maria, it's Agnès, Elmwood Academy's receptionist again. Did you have a chance to... well, to see everything?" came the hesitant voice on the other end. 

Maria hesitated. "About Melissa, the daughter of my former employers? Yes, I got the video." She couldn't deny a sliver of grudging respect had pierced her anger when she'd seen the young woman, decked out in a scratchy maid uniform, scrubbing the floor with a fervour that spoke volumes. The apology letter too had surprised her. It wasn't the flowery, self-serving apologies Melissa usually offered. This one was raw, filled with a desperation Maria hadn't seen before. 

"And?" Agnès prompted gently. 

"And... well," Maria sighed, "the girl did a good job on her hands and knees, that much is clear. And the letter... it sounds more sincere than I expected. Begging, even." Her voice hardened again. "Doesn't change what happened to me." 

"No, of course not," Agnès soothed. "But sometimes, people make mistakes, Maria. And sometimes, they learn from them." 

Maria snorted. "Melissa's a master of making mistakes. But learning? That's a new one. Besides, hard work does a spoilt girl like her a world of good." 

Story: The Job Interview. Part 7.

By Inanimate77

With a growing sense of dread, Amy realized that the wedding was fast approaching. It seemed like every time Amy began to feel a bit more comfortable in her role as a housemaid something new was thrown at her.

Unbeknownst to the young maid, Susan had been intentionally plotting to keep her off balance. It was all part of her plan to slowly break down the college student who despite having such a promising future was rapidly losing control.

From a young age Susan had always liked the finer things in life. As a child she used to sneak sips of her parents' fine wine when they were not looking. Throughout her childhood, she was always searching for the next big thing. Whether it was equestrian lessons or one on one figure skating lessons from a former Olympian, Susan strived to be the best. She craved being elite and took delight in one upping her friends. All of them came from good homes as well, so it was a continual arms race.

Amy, however, represented a potential crowning achievement. Sure many of her friends had domestics serving in their home, although most were just poor immigrants from some backward country. Still a few had managed to hire genuine Americans to serve at their beck and call. Up until now they had been the envy of the group, but all of that was going to change. When Susan presented her Ivy League educated housemaid to her friends they would literally die from jealousy. She just needed a little more time to finish breaking the girl before the big reveal.

As the Labor Day weekend wedding approached, Susan had intentionally taken her foot off the pedal. She needed Amy to let her guard down so that this latest experience would have the maximum psychological impact. With college set to resume the following Tuesday, her maid would be completely frazzled and out of sorts. While she didn’t want her to flunk out, Susan wanted to crush what little confidence remained in the coed.

Story: Biometrics don't lie. Part 15.

by Melissa 

Part 15. Talking to the dean at last. 

The next day, I stood nervously in the hallway of Elmwood Academy, my heart racing as I saw the message flashed by the biometrics system after I had placed my hand on the fingerprint scanner to access to the laundry room: "Fingerprints recognized and identity as school maid Melissa Jones verified and authenticated. Please suspend current cleaning duties and report immediately to the dean, Mrs. Cavendish." 

Rejoicing inwardly, I offered a silent prayer of thanks to Agnès, the receptionist. Her initiative in snagging this meeting with the dean had potentially saved the day. Now, I'd finally have a chance to explain myself to Mrs. Cavendish, the one person with the power to resolve this bureaucratic nightmare. Crucially, she could update my registration in the biometrics system and undo the identity mix-up that led me to be mistaken for my namesake, a delinquent girl sentenced by a Court to community service as school maid under the strict supervision of Mrs Henderson, the head maid. 

Just then, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Mrs. Henderson, who had been keeping a close eye on me. "Melissa, I've been meaning to warn you," she began, her tone grave. "Tread very carefully around Mrs. Cavendish, the dean. She's a woman of formidable sternness. If you claim to be a student and she doubts your word, things could turn ugly fast. She has the power to dish out extreme punishments, and even with my best efforts, there'd be nothing I could do to shield you from her wrath. Trust me, for your own safety, it's best to avoid telling her about any fantasies of being a student." 

I braced myself and decided to tell the truth. "I've got to do what's right, Ma'am, and that means clearing my name."

Story: Biometrics don't lie. Part 14.

by Melissa

Part 14. Glimmers of hope.

This was the first day of my second week at Elmwood Academy. It was still early morning, the first bell a distant threat in the quiet halls, but I couldn't wait any longer. Every second counted. After straightening my apron and maid's cap and scanning my fingerprint to open the door, I crept out of my cramped quarters in the maid's dorm, the stolen hours of sleep clinging to my eyelids like cobwebs. In my hand, I clutched the completed assignment, a testament to my nearly sleepless night. The hallway echoed with the soft thud of my steps as I navigated the labyrinthine corridors towards the student lockers.

I soon reached my destination, a stylish locker adorned with an elegant plaque bearing the name "Melissa Jones" and which should have been mine. I reached to the locker and put my fingerprint on the scanner. "Fingerprints recognized and identity as school maid Melissa Jones verified and authenticated. Access to student Melissa Jones' locker denied." Of course, the locker - my locker - was programmed to be used by the delinquent girl who had stolen my identity, not by me.

Suddenly a figure materialized from the shadows. It was the delinquent girl herself. Startled, I almost dropped the assignment. The girl, clad in her pristine schoolgirl uniform, eyed me with suspicion and a defiant scowl, a smirk twisting her lips. "Early bird, aren't we?" she drawled, her voice rough with sleep.

Caught off guard, I stammered, shoving the assignment towards the girl. "I, uh, I finished your assignment."

The girl took the paper with a disinterested shrug, not bothering with a thank you. Then, to my surprise, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled banknote. "For your troubles," she mumbled, thrusting the money into my hand.

I stared at the low-value banknote, torn between relief and hesitation. Taking money felt wrong and it was a very small sum, yet it might come in handy as I was completely penniless after all my means of payment had been confiscated on my arrival at Elmwood Academy. "Thank you, Miss... Jones," I stammered, dropping a clumsy curtsy out of habit.

Story: Biometrics don't lie. Part 13.

by Melissa 

Part 13. The hidden garden. 

As I slowly made my way to my room to rest, still wincing of pain at each step, I couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with me? How could I feel such arousal when Sabrina was belittling me and had forced me to kiss her? Could she be right about me? Was I just a weak submissive girl craving to be dominated? The thought snaked its way through my mind, leaving a trail of ice in its wake. That couldn't be true, I muttered inwardly, desperate to return to a place of certainty. But the seed of doubt had been sown, and I was no longer entirely sure of myself. However, even if I really had submissive fantasies, something I was still reluctant to fully admit, that didn't mean I was going to sacrifice my dreams and give up my education. After all, not all fantasies are meant to come true. Instead, I promised myself that I would show Sabrina that I could be strong and ambitious. 

But another thing worried me. Could Sabrina be right about Elmwood Academy being a place where the students were corrupted and changed into horrible people? I didn't want to believe it, but I was no longer so confident in my previous beliefs, especially as I had witnessed time and again the contempt with which the students had treated me since I had put on the maid's uniform. The situation left me utterly bewildered. Everything I knew felt upside down, and doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve. Yet, beneath the confusion, a spark of determination flickered. I wouldn't be swayed. My rightful place awaited, and I wouldn't rest until I took it back. 

I finally reached my room, a narrow space tucked away at the end of the maid's quarter. The hard cot beckoned me, promising a much-needed rest. But before collapsing onto the sheets, I paused for a moment, my hand on the door handle. There was something I had to do first. I couldn't shake the feeling that if I didn't confront it now, it would only grow worse. With a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped back into the hallway. 

My heart thudded in my chest as I made my way to the reception desk, where Agnès, the receptionist, sat primly behind her ornate desk. The woman looked up at me with a cool, disapproving glance, her perfectly coiffed hair, sophisticated makeup and beautiful uniform a sharp contrast to my dishevelled appearance. "Yes, girl?" she said, her tone sharp. "What is it you need?"