Pussyslut and Tits awoke strapped to their Mistress, who groggily released them. Removing the headphones both went to sleep with, they shuffled their way into the bathroom rubbing their eyes, brushing their teeth before humiliating themselves on camera as they squatted on the toilet. Next they turned the shower on and stood in front of its entrance, frozen.
"You first," Tits said.
"We'll never get used to the water with that attitude. C'mon, let's pretend it's nice and warm. It's summer anyways- we should pretend to enjoy a cold shower."
"I guess you're right. After you."
Pussyslut narrowed her eyes in mock disapproval. Slowly she moved into the shower and thus under the freezing gush of water that hit her body hard. She arched her back and stiffened the rest of her body as the unmerciful water assaulted her, but she knew better than to react with a gasp or, worse still, words. Calming down, she tried to focus her mind on an imaginary sweltering hot day and being able to come in to a cold shower.
Tits stepped in next, and she too experienced her body's reaction to the water. Her mind, however, was elsewhere. Dreading the day ahead of her as she remembered her Mistress's words and the mental beating she took all night by the headphones, all Tits could think about was her use as a toilet.
The numerous cameras were intrusive and Pussyslut felt like grabbing and ripping them right out the wall, or at least covering herself up. The cameras were positioned exactly at her most intimate parts, and this made her feel like she was just a piece of meat being inspected. She recalled some of the footage from her Mistress's computer monitor- the cameras picked up every turn of her hips, every stream of water that rolled off her stomach leading downward, every jiggle of her breasts. Now it picked up every jingle of her clit bell and every stream of water moving swiftly down her face, a reminder that the words- the name she'd answer to forever- weren't simply marker, they were permanent. She was in this for real now, and between some of her modifications, the blackmail, and the inescapable house, Pussyslut realized the extent of her situation. There was no getting out, she really was a slave, mere property owned by her former neighbor. Her name really was Pussyslut.
Tits and Pussyslut did each other's hair, then used what little time was left to wash some of each other's bodies. They dried off and walked out of the bathroom to their separate dressers, Tits putting on pink bikini-style panties with a floral print and matching bra, and Pussyslut donning a pair that had already been set out for her: black bikini-style panties with two red bulls-eye targets, one directly over her asshole and a smaller one over the panties' gusset, right on top of her pussy; and one black bra with bulls-eye targets over her nipples. Pussyslut sighed. It was impossible how her Mistress knew exactly where to have the bulls-eyes placed on what she assumed were custom panties- the center circles of the bulls-eyes were perfectly aligned with her asshole, center of her pussy, and nipples.
A small vial and post-it note was placed on her dresser, so she shook the thought out of her head and read the small slip of paper.
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