Head out into the hall and beyond.

Fully decked out in your little French Maid's outfit, you have to admit you're a pretty delectable piece of eye candy. It's pleasing, in a way, but also a little worrisome. Is it at all likely anybody's going to take you seriously? You know all that would be going through your head would be: I have to get this chick to bed as soon as possible, or my nuts are going to burst.

You exit your room and walk down the hall towards the servant's living room.

There is Johann reclined on the couch watching the television. This is a small room, with a door to the south and a hallway running north, that has a few tattered couches arranged in a semicircle around an old TV with rabbit ears duct taped to the top.

Johann turns off the TV. "Are you done fingering yourself, you little twat?" Johann says. "Good. The sheets in the Master Bedroom need changing. Get to work." He drags you by the arm up to the bedroom and not too gently shoves you into the room. You can't keep your balance in these spike heels, and you stumble and fall against the side of the bed. Your miniskirt is up around your waist. You fumble with it as Johann says, "Someone'll be around in a little while to let you out. You hear the door lock behind you.

You gather yourself together and get back on your feet shakily. You look at the bed, the sheets in a tangle, and look down at the feminine curves of the body you're trapped in. You fucked Josephine just this morning, with the satisfaction of knowing she'd make the bed for you afterward. This is probably a textbook definition of irony, you think ruefully. Not too long ago you were fucking this body from behind - her wrists were tied to the headboard...you look down at your wrists and see faint bruises from where the cords pinched your tender flesh...