Story: New Employee. Chapters 26-27.

By BigBird74

26.

Trapped! That was the one word that kept revolving around the inside of my head. Trapped! Despite the new dynamic rocking my world, the manageress’ office had felt like something of a sanctuary, a curious feeling given what had just happened. The last ten minutes had seemed like a blur and, as I stepped gingerly along the corridor towards the staff lifts, I tried to review the events in my head. I listed what I did know: she knew I was Katherine Webb; she knew I had made up the identity I was now inhabiting. But, then, what else could she know for sure? Oddly enough, despite what I had considered my meticulous planning, I had not really thought long about being caught, the consequences of which had just seemed too awful to bear.

As per usual, my overactive imagination seized on several potentially dire outcomes. I could end up in jail, for fraud! I would be ruined in the press! My family might disown me! I would lose my inheritance! Would the manageress blackmail me? My mind flitted from one possibility to the next, driving my anxieties to a level I had not previously experienced. I felt like I might keel over.

Pausing in the corridor to steady myself against the wall, I tried to clear the clutter from my mind. I was trapped yes, but only because of one person. It must be possible to find a way to contain this. In front of me was the staff elevator. I reached out and pressed the button summoning the lift. Again my hands were shaking. I found myself waiting again. That thought “it must be possible to contain this” had opened a dark room inside my head. I peered inside: could I somehow kill her? Dispose of the problem that way? I shuddered and closed my eyes. I knew that most killings are caused through desperation and, for a moment, the thought lingered. Bing! The lift arrived and felt sick as I stepped inside and sent the elevator up to the fifth floor.



They say power is intoxicating. At this moment, I can confirm this is VERY much the case. That stupid, spoiled brat was on her way to the hotel’s best suite. Not that a hotel of this standard had anything like the opulence she would be used to back home. Still, it would have to do. For her plan to work, two things would need to happen: firstly, Katherine would have to start to trust her, at least enough to stop her bolting for the exit. And secondly, this adventure would need to last long enough to propel me high enough to make it worth my while. There was no way I was going to kill this particular golden goose.

Gazing at my screen, I watched the girl slowly make her way to the elevator and get inside. It would have been obvious to anyone passing by that this girl was troubled. Her features were sallow and drawn, her eyes dark pits in their sockets. She was on the verge of breaking completely. One more push from me would do it. But something else was stopping me. The eroticism of this moment was profound. No. I was enjoying this too much to completely squash her. This could be profitable and enjoyable.

Room 501 was not far from the elevator. This floor seemed to be little used. Not a great surprise, given that it housed the higher-priced accommodation in an isolated town. I stepped to the door and waited. Thankfully everything was silent, helping to alleviate the worst of my inner tension. Again time passed fitfully. I lost track of how long I was standing there. Should I go back down? What was taking so long? I was lost in my thoughts when the lift suddenly announced her arrival.

As she stepped from the elevator, her eyes immediately met mine and I slinked lower, dipping my gaze to the floor. Instinct was taking over and, in a sense, I was entering something akin to survival mode. The manageress stepped close to me. Her body now just inches away. Silently, she unlocked the door and stepped inside breezily.

“Come!” She barked authoritatively. “Close the door”.

She marched down the narrow passage to the main body of the suite. I stepped in cautiously, unable to quell the anxieties now making my body tremble.

“I understand, you know. At least I think I understand.”

I lifted my head for the first time and again saw those eyes boring into my head. Her confidence seemed to have reached even higher peaks, while mine was falling yet further.

“This is some kind of holiday from your normal life. A getaway from the pressures of being Katherine Webb.”

Her tone was a little mocking at that moment, but otherwise she was maintaining a professionally neutral tone.

 “I would almost understand all that, if it were not for one thing.”

I looked up again.

“The toilet. I heard you.”

If privilege and status can ever be considered a weakness, this was it. I was dumbfounded, unable to speak, unable to think of anything to say. I was so used to doing the talking, telling other people how things would be, that when the proverbial shoe was on the other foot, I found myself unable to respond. Completely unprepared, instead my face flushed a deep hue of crimson and my posture slumped once more. I felt exposed and humbled, the distance to my old life suddenly opening up by potentially weeks, If not months.


27.


“Yes I heard you. I heard you express your underlying feelings”. Though I was not able to look her in the eye, I could almost picture her perfectly. A wry little smile planted on her face. Her lips curled upwards, forming a small U-shaped curve. All the while she was talking, I was standing there, a motionless, speechless figure. A pathetic supplicant whose mask had been stripped away, her deepest and most damaging secrets laid bare, ready to be exploited by some merciless protagonist. I did not know what to say. All I could manage was a weak and trembling “sorry”.

That single word, simple and so frequently used, signalled a few things. It showed that I felt guilt for what I had done, a sense of remorse – at least for getting caught – and, therefore, a reluctant endorsement of what the manageress had just said. It also showed the degree to which the openly confident Katherine had been subdued and replaced by the cowering persona of Marta. I did not see it, but at that moment the manageress had licked her lower lip, a sign of whetted appetite and desire. However, if I had seen it, would that have eased my anxieties?

“Undress. Take off that slutty little uniform,” she instructed me, her voice pitched flatly, calm and authoritative.
Again I looked up. Again I met those eyes. Again I slinked down another notch, unwilling to confront her. I reached up and tugged at the tight bodice of the dress and dragged it up over my shoulders, leaving me in just my flat shoes, cheap panties and bra. Just like earlier in the maids room when I had been compelled to undress, I had eyes on me judging me.

The difference though was stark. The maids ridiculed me as a figure of fun. To them I was a source of amusement and teasing. For her part, the manageress was a cat toying with a mouse. I squirmed a little. That thought, of the power shift between us, of how I was losing my ability to control things sparked that now familiar, but no less delightful, fire between my thighs.

No maid would tolerate this, her boss directing her to strip like this. No normal maid would have anyway. But I was not that. I was lower than a maid. I was reduced beyond the level of a paid employee. I risked becoming something worse than that.

I felt her hand on my torso, her fingers dancing lightly upwards past my waist, tracing a line above my belly button to the cotton cups holding my breasts in place. I was now trembling. Was she testing me? Seeing how far I would fall? She had already seen that she controlled me, what more did she want?

“You like playing with power, Katherine, I do too,” her fingers now brushed the underneath of my bosom, making my upper body quiver and tremble.

“You appear to enjoy giving power away. I crave it. I want to accumulate it.” Her hands were now running through my hair, brittle and worn away by the excesses of the colouring, I felt denuded of my beauty for the first time, a curious desire and need to please this woman now gripping me and making me regret how I looked a little.

“I was looking at photos of you from the last gala you attended, just three weeks ago. You were so pretty, so pampered. If I did not know better, I would have been jealous. But I do know better.” Her fingers were now pressed to my taut stomach, sliding down to my panties. I started to gasp, to pant. The clock had stopped again. Her fingers! Oh god her fingers are inside my panties. No! she will feel…. She will know!

“Such wetness! Oh my!” The manageress giggles lightly, not worried in the slightest with trying to contain her laughter.

“Marta is such a bad maid huh?” She gently runs her fingertips along my slit, revealing just how excited I am growing. I feel utter shame at being so rudely exposed, fuelling yet more desire and need on my half. The toxic delight of having someone to share my secret, a taboo desire fed and nurtured by an accomplice? Was this what was happening here? I let that possibility circulate in my mind, driving my body to respond. I found myself pushing back onto her fingers, attempting to crush my pulsing flesh on her hand.

As suddenly as she had opened up that golden vision, she closed it shut, pulling her fingers away from me and turning away from me. “Marta, I will decide when you have learned enough to leave the hotel. Until that time, you will reside here as a junior maid.” Her reversion to the stiff manageress was sudden and timed to perfection. It left me disoriented and confused.

“You will come to see me daily at 7pm for our training meeting, when we will handle certain pressing matters. You may dress and return to the maids room. I know Linda will be waiting for you.”

Unsure of what to do, but fully aware of the power the manageress now held over me, I curtsied as gracefully as I could and dressed once more. As I left the room, I saw the manageress tip her head to one side and smile, not in a demeaning or patronising way, but perhaps as a friend? As with so much in the past day, I could not be sure and felt I was losing my grip on reality.

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