Sadie's devotional is frustrating and punishing

The music starts up. Just another variation on the ‘devotional’ soundtrack. Acoustic strumming guitar and a woman’s humming. This time it’s very rhythmic which matches the video being shown to me. A petite hand reaching up to give a big black cock, a hand job. The instructions to ‘follow along’ with the video aren’t any kind of surprise. It’s been a while since I actively struggled against Sarah’s devotionals. In theory, in broad strokes, I agree with her on them. They get me turned on and aroused and amp up my sexual energy. And while I’m embarrassed as all get out by it, they do focus my sexual energies in the feminine role. I can’t help to think I’m the feminine participant in these scenarios, whether it’s by making the subject look like me, or making the male subjects so obviously NOT me. But most of the time, the devotionals are just thought experiments. Watching videos and having my mind take me on the actual feminizing and sexualizing trips. This, however, isn’t that.

I’ve seen images where the hand matches mine. This hand not only is shaped like mine, it has the same exact glitter tipped French manicure I’m currently wearing. I’ve had to mimic movements from the video before, but I’ve never had a realistic looking and feeling toy in my hand while doing it. And beyond the devotional soundtrack, there’s the deep baritone vocal moaning of a man. And that particular soundtrack is more timed to MY hand’s action on the big black dildo rather than the video. I’d wonder how it’s using the watch’s gyroscope and maybe the phone’s cameras to sync up the AI generated audio track, but I’m currently giving a handjob to a realistic sex toy while watching a video of my hand giving a handjob to a real man.

And if I had any other doubt that this was a punishment for tonight’s outburst, the bottom of the video is tagging this as my ‘Bitch Mode’ devotional.

I can’t help it and let go of the dildo. The devotional video and soundtrack immediately stop with the message “Keep participating in devotional exercise. Devotional will restart in 5 seconds” flashing on the screen.

When the counter drops to 0 and I haven’t gripped the toy again, the same message appears but is now all capitalized. I still bide my time, waiting for what I know will come next. Thinking back, it’s been over four weeks since I last refused to participate in a devotional and just like then, Sarah opens my door and walks in. Her face is completely serious as she looks down at me. I don’t get angry or rage out as I know that will only make this worse, but I need to hear from her what’s going on. Why is she changing this from something that helps me into something that’s punishing me.

With her hands on her hips, Sarah leans to one side and says in a quiet but tense voice, “Look, you said I was being a bitch. That I was a cunt. That I only see you as some sexy bimbo puppet and that I was trying to make you gay. I guess it’s time for you to see what THAT would look like.”

Sarah waits for several long seconds and looks almost as torn about this as I feel. On the one hand, I can understand why she’s upset. I said some truly terrible things to her. But on the other hand, I don’t think I need to go through an exercise like this. This isn’t making me mentally go through a process, it’s giving me actual sensations and muscle memory. I won’t ever be able to forget the feel of giving hand jobs to these dildos while being **** to associate it with giving hand jobs to real men. When I’m a middle-aged man I’ll have the memory of doing the other devotionals, but it will be like a dream. This… this is crossing the line into reality.

I keep my peace though, knowing that my words right now will just push Sarah over the edge again. Unfortunately, when she makes up her mind it doesn’t change the outcome. With a shrug, she looks down at me and adds, “Look, just do it. Get it over with. We’ll talk about it in the morning. Or don’t do it. Turn off your phone, get back in bed, and in the morning, we’ll tally up what you owe me and get you a new apartment as we’ll be done with each other.”

And with that ultimatum, Sarah turns, walks out of the room, and closes the door quietly behind her. I have to admit that I was really close to taking that second option. I have the body to continue doing this on my own. I have the knowledge to keep up this act and keep earning money. But I’m not caught up yet. I’m using Sarah’s computer, and she wouldn’t be obligated to give it to me. I’m wearing her clothes, and she wouldn’t be obligated to give them to me. In addition to paying for an apartment and all the bills that come with that, I’d have to buy a new wardrobe, new cosmetics and personal care items, and an entire new streaming setup. And I just don’t have enough money for that.

Turning back to my punishment I bring up my small, glitter tip French manicured hand, and grip the large, thick, dark dildo. The message on the phone takes a second to realize I’m back in compliance, but once it does, the music, the moaning, and the video all start back up. I’m back to everything working to convince me that I’m giving a handjob to a big black man. As before, I can’t even look away. A glance pauses the video and when I look back it not only resumes, it fully starts over. In this case, it seems the entire devotional is going to take quite awhile as this ‘Bitch Mode’ section alone is almost eight minutes long. When I get to hear the almost horrifying sound of a man cumming, I swear I’m so in the moment that I could feel the dildo tense up and throb in my hand.

Once ‘Bitch Mode’ is done, the phone gives me a full thirty seconds to reset myself, and then starts a new video. This time it’s an AI generated version of my left hand giving hand job after hand job to countless large white cocks. Same music, same humming, similar man moaning in pleasure as I jack him off. Out of frustration I can’t help but close my eyes but curse myself for that moment of weakness as the music and video pause. When I open my eyes, and everything starts back up, the video starts over at the beginning.

It's halfway through this ‘Cunt Mode’ devotional that I feel my own penis throb. I can feel my nipples hardening and even feel a more than normal amount of drool in my mouth. I hate this and I hate myself for it happening, but I’m getting turned on. Turned on by giving hand jobs while absolutely nothing touches my own penis. I even try scootching forward, hoping I can get close enough to the wall that I might brush the head of my penis up against it, but I’m no where near close enough and am left hating myself for having a hard on while jacking off some guy.

The eight minute ‘Cunt Mode’, after a brief respite, is followed by ‘Whore Mode’ per the text on the screen. I guess in the grand scheme of things, Sarah must hate me calling myself a whore more than she hated me calling her a bitch or a cunt, as ‘Whore Mode’, at least to me, is far more terrible than the ‘Bitch’ or ‘Cunt Mode’ devotionals. There isn’t as much to identify the subject in the video, but I’m sure the sensations will take over and make the association in my mind. The point of view video of a girl kneeling down to give a blow job to a big white cock.

I again consider giving it all up. It’s terrible that I honestly feel I could talk about giving hand jobs with some level of expertise, but putting my mouth on these toys? There’s a line and it’s already been crossed and I’m now struggling with just how far over the line I’m willing to go. Ultimately, it’s the thought of what would come after tomorrow that gets me to proceed. It’s not sitting down with Sarah and having her tell me how many thousands of dollars I owe her. It’s not having to find an apartment on my own and wasting almost all of my pitiful savings on basic supplies. It’s going to Dad and Dallas, my little brother, as I look now. How could I explain that I allowed this to happen to me. That I have breasts, that I’m not only shaped like a sexy cam girl, that I actually sound like one. Because there’s no way I could afford to get this reversed before having to meet up with Dad and discuss paying for school or a new streaming setup.

With that humiliating thought in my head, I generate new nightmare fuel by wrapping my lips around the white dildo. I have to turn my eyes to the side to keep the phone screen in view, but I see that it’s evidently designed for a beginner like me. While I’m directed to spend plenty of the eight minutes with my lips circling the cock and bobbing my head back and forth, I also have to pull off and spend copious amounts of time licking up and down it’s length, kissing and tonguing the hanging scrotum, and kissing and rubbing the thick shaft over my face. I never have to go deep enough that it threatens my throat.

It's no surprise that after my short break, I’m greeted to ‘Sissy Mode’ with point of view videos of blowjobs performed on big black cocks and am directed to the dildo to my right. After four minutes, humiliatingly never feeling my own hard on reduce in hardness while I give plastic tasting blow jobs, I realize that the time factor might actually be the worst part of this. The shock has worn off. My lips are around a dildo, I’m performing a blow job to a toy, I’m being led into imaginations that it’s real. Yup. But where my mind can wander, the time has made it so that I think not about Sarah or streaming or even how to improve my lot in life. Instead, I find myself wondering about cock sizes. Is Louis the same size as the white dildo. Is Marley the size of the black one? Neither are average in size, both easily dwarfing my own size even before I was on hormones and constantly caged. But would blowing Louis or Marley feel like this? And if so, which is better? I feel like I can get more creative with the ‘Louis’ cock as it doesn’t stretch my mouth as much. I can use my tongue more. Whereas the ‘Marley’ cock stretches my lips and jaw and makes me very conscious of my teeth. And that’s when I realize even while being directed to physically perform these actions, I’m my own worst enemy. I’m the one with the more depraved thoughts. How am I going to look at either Louis or Marley in the eye when I’ve just spent over fifteen minutes imagining giving them both blowjobs?

I’m so lost in the spiral of imagining blowing the men in my life and the self-recrimination of doing so, that the devotional program has to audibly ding to let me know it’s time to stop. It even humiliatingly put up a timer, letting me know I sucked on the ‘Marley’ cock for an extra ninety seconds.

I’m given a full two minutes to rest as I await the fifth devotional. I’m still as hard as I’ve ever been down there and have just enough time to wonder what Sarah has in mind to get me back in my cage as there’s no way she’s going to want me to orgasm. And at this point, I don’t’ want it. As aroused as I am, I don’t want the positive feedback loop after these horrible tasks.

When the phone dings I look at the screen and grow confused. Evidently this final devotional is going to be ‘Slut Mode’ but it directs me to giving the white dildo, still slick with my own spit, another hand job. But after a few minutes, my stomach drops as the video directs me to start using both hands. One on ‘Louis’ and one on ‘Marley’. The soundtrack doubles with twin strumming guitars, twin women humming, and now two men groaning appreciably. And the devotional proves to be stricter than I first imagined as it’s using the watches to monitor my wrists movements individually. Evidently my first mistake was focusing more on ‘Louis’ giving him full long slow strokes while my right hand started using shorter faster strokes on the base of ‘Marley’. After it reprimands me, the devotional starts over. Three minutes wasted and having to be repeated with a double hand job. A couple minutes later and I’m dinged again, this time for focusing too much on ‘Marley’ while I palmed and simply gripped ‘Louis’.

By my count, I spent nine minutes giving the dual hand jobs and was trying my best to keep focused, to keep working my hands and keep ‘my guys’ groaning and happy. Then the video changed again, and my first tears actually fell. If I thought ‘Slut Mode’ couldn’t get worse, I was wrong as the video started showing my next task.

Moving from dildo to dildo, giving them both blow jobs while I continue to use my hands on them. My own hesitation paused the devotional but when I moved my lips to ‘Louis’ and took him in my mouth it started back up instead of restarting the whole process. But after spending so long on my knees, so long giving hand jobs and blow jobs and now finally giving a dual blow job, my own frustrations and emotions start sabotaging me. I simply don’t want to watch the video any longer and keep closing my eyes to block it out. When I hear the music pause, I quickly open my eyes and it starts back up, but I can tell the video of the dual blow jobs has started over. I may not have to repeat the first four minutes of dual hand jobs, but I’m having to repeat the dual blow job portion.

When I’m finally done, when I’ve heard two men voice their orgasmal pleasure, when the screen shows ‘Congratulations Princess, your nightly devotionals are complete. Sleep well!’ and the music stops I believe I was giving oral pleasure to ‘Louis’ and ‘Marley’ for over twenty minutes. The fact that I don’t believe I can be more humiliated and embarrassed just shows that I’m too tired to think creatively. Because as bad as the situation is, it becomes worse when Sarah opens the door and I remember that she was witness to all of this.

Mentally though, I’m just done. I’m already broken and can’t be broken further. I note that Sarah doesn’t look happy or satisfied or sorry or really anything. She just looks at my raging hard on and asks in a flat voice if I want to orgasm. I’m sure in my near hour-long hand and blow job festival that she’s had plenty of time to consider what to do and seems satisfied when I just shake my head. She already had the ice pack in her hand, and I barely flinch when she crouches down next to me and presses it to my erection.

When I’m finally soft and locked back in my cage, Sarah helps me back into my panties and cami and into bed before pulling the covers up to my chin. She even gives me a kiss on the forehead before wishing me sweet dreams and leaving me alone. I absolutely hate that the phone and dildos are still attached to the wall, a standing memorial to my absolute lowest point, but I’m too emotionally exhausted to do anything about it and soon slip into dreamland.