You arrive with no incidents

Authors note: This branch can go a little dark, with heavy elements of humiliation and degradation, as well as some ****. Just thought I'd give a warning.

You sit in silence for the entire drive, as the others chat along, ignoring you. When you're finally at your new home, it's like a voice tells you to get out first and go to open the door for the others. They walk past you, still pretty much ignoring you, though you notice both Master Fredericks and Master John checking you out as they pass.

They proceed to take a tour of the house, and you follow in tow. Instinctively, a part of your mind starts cataloging the rooms you pass through, and whether they need cleaning.

"This has to be my room," John says. It's a spacious room, one corner holding a sofa and a large flatscreen TV. "And this mine," Emily says, looking into the room across the hall.

At the end of the tour, you come to a small room down by the kitchen. You've gone through several rooms that could easily have been used for a bedroom for you, but it's obvious, as you enter, that this is the room intended for you. It's cramped and spartan, with a small bed, a dresser and a wardrobe with a full-length mirror, a desk, and a bookcase filled with cheap paperback romances. There's a door leading into a tiny bathroom, as well. "This isn't fair," you whisper to yourself. "The others live in luxury, and I'm stuck with this." You want it this way. You like being demeaned. There's a tinge of arousal at the thought.

"You run along now, kids, and check out your new rooms. I'm going to have a talk with Isabella." He turns to you as they leave. "I want to talk to you about your duties."

"This is all a mistake," you protest. "I didn't want this... I wanted us to have a maid like this, but I didn't want to be her. I'm your son, not your maid."

He slaps you, again, and grabs you by your neck, dragging you along to a mirror just down the hall. Your breath heightens and you can feel a dampness forming in your crotch. "Look at yourself! What do you see?"

"A maid, Sir," you mumble.

"And is that you in the mirror?"

"Yes, Sir," you whisper.

"So, what are you?"

"I'm your maid, Sir." The words are barely audible. His treatment of you is humiliating, and you're glad the others aren't here to see it.

"Yes, you are. I want you to know, to really understand, that just because you used to be my son before this, I won't treat you any special. My gut instinct tells me you are my maid, to do with as I please." As if to prove the point, he shoves his hand up under your skirt, in between your legs. You want to pull back, but the voice tells you to stay. It's your Masters right to inspect you. His hands meet little resistance as he slips inside of you, and you instinctively press yourself against his palm, a moan escaping your lips. "My son is upstairs, probably playing his video games, or maybe looking at sexy young ladies on his computer. You're just my slutty little maid." He withdraws his hand, holding his hand up to your face so that you're **** to smell your own arousal, before wiping it off on you.

"Now, let's talk about your duties." He looms over you. "Obviously, you are to keep the house clean. Pay particular attention to my bedroom, my bathroom and my study. Unless my orders contradict theirs, you are also to do whatever my children asks of you. I want dinner served at seven each day. In the mornings, I want my clothes laid out for me, a clean shirt freshly ironed, and breakfast in my room. I expect you to use your pretty little mouth," at this he pushes a finger between your lips, and you find yourself licking it, "as my alarm clock."

"You are to wear the outfit provided to you at all times, when on duty. Which is every day except Saturdays, unless we're having guests. Tomorrow is not off, by the way. You need to learn your routine. You use the side entrance, not the front. Failure to keep up to my standards will result in punishments. Is this all understood?"

His little speech has you standing there, quivering with arousal, despite the part of you that abhors the situation. What did they say at the orientation? "You will be given an arousal pattern that reinforces the core of your new identities. We've found that this is an effective way to make you accept your new roles."

"Yes, Sir," you say, around his finger. You purse your lips as he pulls it out.

"Good girl. Now scurry along and get to work. Acquaint yourself with the place and see if anything needs seeing to. I'll call on you if I need anything." He pats your butt as he walks away, leaving you to stew in your own arousal.

You try to consider your options, but your lust is clouding your mind. Maybe...maybe before you get to your duties... Master Fredericks said you should see if anything needs seeing to, and your... your coño could really need some seeing to right now. It might not be following the spirit of his words, but it would be following the letter of them