Nothing yet. Let's see how this mansion of sex slaves works out, first.

All of reality was Kelly's canvas. She could have anyone or anything. She could change anyone or anything. She could be anyone or anything. And with all of that power, what was she accomplishing? So far, choice paralysis.

"I'm basically God," Kelly said to the nameless sex **** she'd conjured out of being who was currently sucking her magically-created cock.

Mm-hm, mumbled the **** happily around her Mistress's enormous shlong.

So then, what should she do? On impulse she wrote everyone who has ever wronged me will suffer a humiliating comeuppance that I would think was proportional and appropriate to their offence, should I hear about it.

There, that was mindless sex and petty **** taken care of. What else to do? Choice paralysis held her in stasis as they began leaving town behind. Eventually Kelly closed her book, set it aside, and focused on earnestly fucking her driver's other self while they sped out of town and toward her new mansion.

--

The limousine pulled off the road and onto the long, winding driveway.

A dozen implausibly beautiful women in frilly maid dresses stood lined up near the front door, waiting for Kelly to arrive. They curtsied as one when Kelly's driver opened the rear door for her and their goddess stepped out.

Every single one of the women was beautified and enhanced from when she had last seen them, but every single one of her new slaves was someone Kelly had hated from her old life. This was how her wish for vengeance was being granted.

Kelly walked down the line of her new slaves, groping, twisting, copping every feel. They seemed aware of their plight, but untroubled by it. Ex-girlfriends, ex-bosses, her current boss...

"Hey Janet, if you're here being my sex **** now, who's running the store?"

"I 'ave no idea, madam," said Janet, the bitchy assistant manager with chestnut curls, a thrusting bosom, and an absurd fake French accent. When she heard her own voice, and how ridiculous she sounded, she blushed.

"You should have given me that weekend off when I asked for it."

"Oui, Madam."

"I'm gonna make you eat my ass later, and then we're gonna send video of it to your husband and get him to divorce you, okay?"

Janet's shoulders slumped. "Oui, Madam."