Nuwa stared at the front door of her new home. She could tell that her owner had down things to her soul. She felt dirty and violated. She also felt like crying, but she did not.

Walking into the mansion, she found that it was dusty. She had noticed that this realm seemed to be full of dust. Perhaps it was from the constant creation and disintegration of limbs. In just a second she felt it.

Her entire body felt disgusting. Unable to hold it in, she puked all over the floor. Only to feel even worse. She kept dry heaving until she eventually passed out.

She woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, standing in what seemed to be the mansion's kitchen. Almost immediately, the disgusting feeling she had felt before returning with vengeance. Nuwa collapsed in a puddle of her own piss and started crying and dry heaving. Once again she passed out.

This continued for an unknown amount of time until finally, she was able to stay conscious through the heaving and slowly crawled her way down to where she thought the storeroom was. Nuwa had no clue how she knew where the cleaning equipment was kept, she just did. She ignored the stench of vomit that she had become accustomed to and soldiered on.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

' Why? Why? Why? Why?'

All she could do was wonder why she was being tortured in such a terrible manner. Finally locating a cleanish cloth. She grabbed it and headed for the kitchen, in a hurry to get what must be done done. Wetting the cloth under the tap, she started cleaning up the vomit. The moment she did, she climaxed from pleasure.

' What? What was that?'

To say she was confused and in distress would be an understatement. However, the pleasure did not last long. She quickly felt dirty again from her squirting. Once again, she started to clean. She did not stop, not even when she was feeling the intoxicating pleasure.

Eventually, she found that the entire mansion was clean. She sat down on the floor emotionlessly. Her muddled mind tried to process what had happened.

She could not.

So she tried something more productive. She started fingering herself. Only to find that she couldn't reach deep enough. She tried sticking things into her flower. Again finding that she could not stick it in deep enough to have release. Soon, however, she found that the floor was dirty again. She stared at the patch of fluids contemplating.

She knew what she had to do.