You remain there in the floor for some time, unable to move or make a sound. Cici seems to have fallen asleep, as you can hear her rhythmic breathing. The helpness of your stiuation sets in, and you can feel tears well up in your big blue (formerly brown) eyes.
After at least half an hour, Cici stirs. She slowly gets up and streches, pushing her now ample chest out as she does. She has a big smile on her face, but when she sees you with tears running down your cheeks, she devolps a confused frown. “Omigosh Cassie...” she says. Though her voice is still hot and breathy, you can also hear genuine regret in her tone. “I’m like, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. You like, totally didn’t deserve that.” She climbs off the bed and kneels in front of you before hugging you tightly, squishing your breasts and hers together as she does.
You appreciate the gesture, but silent tears still descend down your face. You wish you had never bought that damn Recorder in the first place...wait, that’s it! You can wish you never bought the Recorder, and then everything it has done will never have happened! It could backfire, but it’s better than making more and more random wishes, right? Of course, the only problem is that you can’t speak or move unless Cici tells you to.
Cici hugs you for a bit longer, stroking the exposed skin on your back with her long nails before standing up. “You can stand up too, sweetie.” She says cheerfully. At last you can get off your knees, but you’re still exhausted, and even so soon after pleasuring Cici, yout hormones are starting to act up again, the telltale quiver shaking your legs. Cici seems to notice, and as she pulls on a tight thong from her dresser, she says “Go ahead and lie on the bed, sweetie. You must be like, sooo tired!”
You clambor into the bed, thankful for the soft surface to rest on, but you aren’t any closer to fixing this mess. The Recorder is right there, just a few inches from your fingers. But try as you might, you simply can’t will your servile body to reach out and grab it. You also can’t reach under your cloth and pleasure yourself, further frustrating you. Cici remains completely oblivious to your plight, humming some inane pop song (she used to hate that kind of music) as she pulls on a tight leather skirt, one that exposes her thong and tramp stamp. She looks disheveled, but that only makes her more sexy to you. Soon, your sexual frustration overwhelms the rest of your thoughts, even the Recorder disapearing under a miasma of sexual fantasies that go unfulfilled.
Cici, still oblivious, reapplies some of her make up, than starts to head for the door, her hips swaying and her ass jiggling. You want to scream, to tell her not to leave you paralyzed, but nothing comes out. Thankfully, she turns at the last second.
“I’m, like, gonna head to club, okay?” She says, even though its pretty esrly to go clubbing. “If im lucky I’ll bring home a cute boy. Or girl. Maybe both! Then we could really have some fun, right?” She raises her voice on that last word, sounding every bit like the vapid tramp she has become. She seems excited, but looks sullen when she sees your face. “Like, what’s wrong, pookie? Why are you so quiet?” Because you told me to shut up! You try to scream at her. She stares blankly at you with her mouth dumbly hanging open for several seconds before it finally kicks in. “Ohhhhhhhh!” She finally says. “You can talk now, pookie.”
Your mouth finally opens, and you immediately inhale deeply. You are a out to launch into a crazed rant when Cici smiles and says. “That’s better. You can move around the house, pookie, but don’t leave, k? Oh, and try to clean up while I’m gone, sweetie. This place is a dump. Ok, love you, byyye!” She flys out her bedroom and out of the apartment before you can say a word.
“God damn it Cici...” you say through horny breaths. You take a moment to flex your muscles and joints. you’ve been paralyzed for so long your whole body is sore. You see the Recorder sitting there on the bed, nervous dread filling you as you stare at it. Nows your chance to fix this...or make it a thousand times worse. After laying there for a few minutes, you get off the bed.
Suddenly, before you can even touch the Recorder, your legs move against your will, carrying you out of the bedroom. “Oh, c’mon!” You say. You’ve once again lost control of your body, but now it seems to have a mind of its own. What is going on? When your body takes you to the closet in the living room, you suddenly understand. Cici asked you to clean the place up, and you don’t have a choice in the matter. As you groan in frustration, you swing the door open, revealing a wide array of cleaning equipment, and a sexy french maid outfit hanging on a hanger. Attached is a note written in overly elaborate cursivr in pink, glittery ink that reads “Hey sexy, isn’t this outfit the hottestt thing ever? You should totally wear it when your doing chores around the house.” Followed by rows of Xs and Os. Sure enough, you mechanically start to strip out of your slave outfit. Looks like Cici doesn’t even have to give you commands in person.
You begin to put on the maid outfit. An extremely tight corset contricts your already tiny waist and pushes up your jiggling breasts. A hoop skirt barely hides your ass, encased in lacy black lingerie, while stockings cover your lega below your thick thighs. As you change, your collar, still dragging the chain behind it, shifts from gold to black, as do your heels. Now fully adorned in sexy maid attire, you again groan in frustration as you reach for the cleaning supplies. Its going to be a long day.