Paradigm

My father and mother stared at me for a long moment, still shaken by the spasms of my orgasm, from the plug, still restrained by my restraints.

My father suddenly removed the plug, which made me yelp. Mom put her hand over my mouth to silence me.

• Listen, my daughter, you're now an adult. Given what you did to us to satisfy your perversity, we would have the right to tell you to leave, or even ask you to pay me back.

I gasped in dismay, especially since it meant the end of my studies, which were supposed to last another five years.

• Sorry, sorry, I'll do anything you want.
• Shh, you little bitch, ordered my father. Your mother convinced me, a chance to make you forgive me, but shut up or I'll change my mind. Listen to our proposal. You'll move into our playroom; your sister will have a room of her own from now on. You'll sleep here.

She discovered behind a secret passage a cell with a basic bed and a desk. You will study here, and for the rest of the time, to repay us for your damages and your studies, you will be our servant and our sex ****. You will wear this maid's outfit. When you go to university, you will wear an outfit I will give you, understood.

I was relieved, and what's more, they were satisfying my masochistic and submissive urges; I was wearing a maid's outfit.

Whatever you want.

• Okay, you will sign this acknowledgement of debt and this sexual slavery contract.

I quickly read the amount: 300,000 euros, and the radical clauses made me shudder.

My fingers trembled as I held the contract, the paper squeaking with my sweat. The terms were merciless:

"Exclusive property, absolute obedience, no limits imposed on my parents regarding punishments or use of my body. One clause even stipulated that they could lend me to others or even rent out my sexual services, under their supervision." My stomach tightened, but between fear and excitement, my breath became ragged, my mouth was dry, and yet my desire was soaring.

I signed with a trembling hand, the quill scratching the paper like a sentence. My father immediately snatched the contract, his eyes shining with cruel satisfaction, while my mother slid her fingers into my hair to pull me to the floor.

"On your knees, ****," she whispered, and I complied, already feeling the cold of the tiled floor through the stockings of my servant's outfit.

• From now on, you will call us and your sister master and mistresses. You will only speak in response to a question, and if you are invited to do so, understood?

"Yes, Master," I whispered, submission tightening my throat as my knees sank deeper into the icy tiles.

• You will go up to your old room and put everything in garbage bags. You will lose a full bag for every maid mistake. You have one hour to put anything not in a bag directly in the trash. Know that your sister has read what you did to her in your private book; she will make you pay.

My heart was pounding as I stood up, my trembling knees still marked by the tiles. "Yes, Master," I repeated in a strangled voice, looking down at their shoes before heading for the door. The skirt of my maid's outfit brushed against my sweaty thighs, each step echoing like a march toward my new life.

My father's hand closed roughly on my arm as I crossed the threshold. "Wait, ****," he growled, forcing me to turn around.

"Wait, ****," he growled, forcing me to turn around.

His other hand reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a thick leather collar studded with a metal plate engraved with their names. The coldness of the metal made me shiver as he wrapped it around my neck, tightening it just enough so I felt the pressure with every heartbeat.

• Come on, you have 55 minutes left.