The Chronicles Of Power

Before the sun had fully set, its warm light still poured through the room’s many windows. The golden rays danced across the Persian rugs, the large bed, and the rows of wardrobes. A sculpture that the uncultured would have mistaken for something made by a child rather then an legendary artist basked in the fading light. Everything in the room exuded refinement; nothing about it was gaudy.

Joanna leaned toward her vanity mirror and brushed away a fleck of mascara that had fallen onto her cheek. As she settled back, she studied her face and makeup.

Tasteful. That was the only word for it.

Her face was every bit as beautiful as it had been in her teens, and to think that had been more than thirty years ago. Her makeup was almost imperceptible, yet it transformed her appearance. She had learned that lesson while she was still very young.

Always beautiful. Never tasteless.

She dropped the cotton pad into the wastebasket and gave a slight shudder. Yesterday's pad was still there, along with the one from the day before. Narrowing her eyes, she noticed a thin film of dust covering the mirror.

Appalling.

It was obvious they had been without staff for three days. The house had never been in such disarray. She silently thanked heaven that her mother was no longer alive to witness the decline. Born into European nobility, her mother would have disinherited her had she ever known.

Joanna made a mental note to schedule extra cleaning for the following day as soon as tonight's events were over.

Joanna rose without a sound and crossed the room with her almost gliding stride. Her eyes drifted over the artwork adorning the walls. It was bold, avant-garde, and unmistakably contemporary. John, her husband, understood nothing about art. He had an exceptional talent for business and forging connections, but he could also be an astonishingly boorish fool. It was obvious he came from an ordinary upper-middle-class background.

John stood before the mirror, tying his tie. A deep navy silk tie against a pale blue shirt, while a dark blue fine-knit sweater rested over the back of a chair.

Perfect.

Not overly formal, but enough to send the right message. It also complemented the color of both their eyes.

Joanna stepped up beside him and slipped an arm around his waist. In her high heels, she matched his six-foot stature. Six feet of power and beauty.

She studied their reflection.

John's hair now held more gray than blond, yet he still looked fit and vigorous. Their daily tennis matches had left their mark. There was an effortless authority in the way he carried himself. He was a handsome man.

Her gaze drifted to her own reflection.

The gray strands had become more noticeable over the years, but blond still prevailed. That would do.

Her eyes traveled lower. The necklace rested exactly where it belonged. Her breasts had lost none of their shape. Her stomach was still flat, her skin evenly sun-kissed. She noted the neatly trimmed blond triangle between her legs, then the long, shapely legs beneath it. Nothing disrupted the harmony of the whole.

She caught John's eyes in the mirror.

He was studying her with the same careful attention she had just given herself.

The faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth told her he still liked what he saw.

“Stephen just informed me that the last one has arrived,” John said in his calm, measured voice, his bright eyes appraising his wife. “Perhaps you should finish getting dressed.”

Joanna smiled.

“There's no rush. It'll do them good to stand there and wait.”

She paused for effect.

“Though I am very curious about the sort of people we've brought here. Imagine if they're all complete lunatics.”

John chuckled.

“I told you it was an unusual approach. You know I tried to talk you out of it more than once.”

Joanna responded with an exaggerated pout.

“I don't doubt the method for a second. This is going to work beautifully. Though it is remarkable what people will agree to if you wave enough money in front of them.”

John slipped on the sweater before answering.

“It is a lot of money for ordinary people.”

He spoke the last three words with open contempt.

“I've done the math. Even if all four stay for the entire year, it'll only cost us a tenth of what the yacht did.”

Joanna burst into laughter.

The yacht.

Good Lord, the yacht.

She hadn't given it a single thought in nearly a year. She wasn't even sure where it was anymore.

John held up her salmon-pink dress. She stepped into it, and he pulled the zipper up the back.

Now they were ready.

Arm in arm, they left the room and descended the staircase.

Together, they embodied wealth, beauty, and power.

And no one was ever going to take that away from them.

A thousand thoughts raced through Joanna's mind.

This was going to be a magnificent year, and she was going to create so many wonderful things.

Everything she said, every wish she made, would become reality.

The thought of wielding absolute power sent a delicious thrill through the pit of her stomach.

*

Despite giving no outward sign of it, John was filled with anticipation. His tummy fluttered with excitement, and he could feel the warmth rising in his face.

Arm in arm, they entered the great hall.

There they were.

Four of them, standing in a straight line, positioned exactly as they had instructed Stephen.

Good old, dependable Stephen.

He was the only member of their staff who had remained with them for more than a few years. By now, he felt less like an employee and more like a permanent fixture of the house.

John did his best not to stare. There would be plenty of time for that soon enough.

This was perfect.

He had to admit that when Joanna first explained her idea some months ago, he hadn't entirely understood it. Their staff had become too arrogant. They argued back, and if they grew dissatisfied, they simply quit.

He had agreed with her, albeit reluctantly.

But with this new plan, their authority would be absolute. These people would have no choice but to obey John and Joanna's every command.

It was the last thing Joanna had said that finally won him over.

They would own their bodies. She also wanted everything to be a mystery and surprise for her and John. John had made the old staff randomly pick a letter in the pile of applications, they had been tricked into choosing their own replacements. The thought made him tingle. Finally, Stephen made all the travel arrangements and sent out the plane tickets.

John stopped his thoughts when he felt his wife give his hand a gentle squeeze. He put on his broadest smile and spread an arm in a warm, welcoming gesture.

“Welcome. Welcome to our home. My name is John, and this is my wife, Joanna.”

Joanna gave a slight nod before adding,

“To you, we are Sir and Ma'am. Nothing else.”

John continued

“You've all answered our advertisement and applied to work here.”

He rose to his feet.

“The work consists of ordinary household duties—cleaning, laundry, serving meals, and cooking.”

He paused, letting the words settle before continuing in the calm, businesslike manner that came so naturally to him.

“The contract also grants us extensive personal authority over you. For as long as you remain here, your bodies are at our disposal. We decide what you do, when you do it, and how you do it.”

He heard someone swallow.

He caught a flicker of uncertainty in another's eyes.

It felt as though he was growing taller while the four of them were shrinking before him.

Joanna took over.

“For that, you'll be compensated generously. One thousand dollars a week. And if you're still here after twelve months, you'll receive a bonus of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

John watched the reactions in their eyes.

Their pupils widened.

My God...

They were already hooked.

John sat back down.

“You're free to leave whenever you wish. The doors aren't locked. But if you do, you can forget about the bonus.”

He paused, considering whether he had forgotten anything.

“Oh, and of course, your room and board are included for the duration of your stay.”

He let the words sink in before asking whether they accepted the terms.

A faint murmur spread through the line.

Smack!

The sharp crack of Joanna's palms striking together made all four of them flinch.

“Sir asked you a question.”

Her voice had turned ice-cold.

“Do you accept the terms?”

“Yes, Ma'am! Yes, Sir!”

The response came so instantly and so loudly that it sounded as though they had rehearsed it for years.

Perfect.

Absolutely perfect, John thought.

“Good. Take your clothes off.”

The four of them hesitated for only a moment. But the instant they saw Joanna raise her hands for another clap, they sprang into action, stripping off their clothes in frantic haste.

“Fold them. Don't just throw them on the floor.”

Joanna had already begun their training.

Stephen appeared as if from nowhere, gathered up the neatly folded clothes, and disappeared just as silently.

Now four naked people stood before them, their hands clasped behind their backs, feet shoulder-width apart.

The sun had almost set, bathing them in a fiery amber glow that made them look as though they were burning.

John reached for his wife's hand.

“Shall we take a closer look?”

She answered with a smile.

Together they rose and slowly walked toward the first person.