Bedtime

Hungry, and with no other options - you know he'll be watching it, you gulp down the food, eating like a pet from the floor. It's disgusting - not so much the taste, which you find surprisingly palatable, but the thought of having to eat your Masters cum as 'dressing' on your food - but to your chagrin, that's exactly the kind of thing that dials your libido up to 11. And with this damned chastity belt...

Part of your mind is still resisting the change. It's telling you how fucked up all of this is, how you're not supposed to be a maid, let alone a slutty, submissive sex **** to the man who used to be your father. But this voice is drowned out by the incredibly frustrating arousal. They were right, you think, to say that your arousal patters help reinforce the new identity. If it hadn't been for that, you could have been able to fight it. But submitting, doing all these perverted things, just feels so good, and zaps all your will to resist. Don't resist. Let yourself become Isabella.

Frustrated, tears still drying, you retreat to your room for the night. There's nothing more to do - there was nothing more to do in the first place, so you hadn't really neglected your duties by exploring yourself a bit, but you can't say that to Master Fredericks. That'll only make things worse. Better. Fuck that voice, you think. Don't listen to it. Resist the arousal.

But as you lie in your bed, naked but for the chastity device, after having cleaned the food off your face and readied yourself to sleep, you find yourself unable to fall asleep. You're just to horny. You try to push a finger in, wiggle it until you can touch your clit, but it's simply too snug a fit, the padding too tight. Getting up, trying to hump the bedpost, doesn't really work either. It's been cleverly padded, so as to only distribute pressure to the area around your clitoris, only making you hornier, more frustrated.

The only thing you have access to is your ass. Men can get to their prostate through the back door, but can women? No, you're not going to go there. You're not going to give Master Fredericks the pleasure of seeing you try to come by sticking... something... up your butt, only to most likely fail miserably and be even worse off.

So you decide to just lie there, trying to sleep. And, after tossing and turning for eternities, once more crying out of sheer frustration, you do finally manage to.

Your dreams are disjointed, but all highly erotic, highly humiliating. When the alarm wakes you, you can't really remember the details, but you can certainly say that the night didn't help to calm you down. You have another idea. A cold shower. Stepping into the bathroom, you turn the heat all the way down, and give out a loud shriek as the ice-cold water hits your body. But no. It doesn't do anything but leave you shivering.

Every step just pushes you further and further towards the only real solution you can see left. You need to become your former fathers idea of a perfect little maid. You need to please him, you need to make him want to remove the chastity belt, and then... then you're probably going to have to let him fuck you.

And then you escape, somehow, back to the fuckers at WITSEX. Then you continue being the perfect submissive maid.

Your Master wants his breakfast and wake-up blowjob soon. You better get going.