I pulled up in front of her house at 9:55 a.m., rushing to carry the latest batch of gifts I’d purchased her up to her door for exactly 10 a.m., as instructed.
“Good morning,” she says in a sing-song voice, kindly collecting the gifts from my arms.
We have a full day of service ahead of us, and I am always very preoccupied with time (or lack thereof). I never want to have less time than to-do’s for the day, so I promptly start collecting the art I know is to be professionally framed as she finishes getting ready.
“I have to pee,” she says, 10 blocks from the spa I’m chauffeuring her to. Eyeing the clock, I know there’s no time to stop. Her voice plays back in my head, “I want to arrive 30 minutes early so I can enjoy the sauna before my facial. Figure out when we need to leave.”
Eyeing the Manhattan traffic, I know there’s no good washroom prospects, even if we did have the time. “Drink more of this—quickly,” she commands, shaking my iced coffee. I do as I’m told, and she rewards me by pissing into the cup from the passenger seat. “There! I refilled it for you,” she smiles, quite pleased with her generosity.
“Thank you, Mistress!” squeaks out before she asks me to drop her off in front of the door.
“I want that coffee cup empty by the time I am done with my treatment. Use this time to go shopping for me… buy me three gifts you know I’ll like.” The door slams behind her.
After parking the car, I set out on my 85-minute mission: finish my coffee/piss blend and buy three things I know she’ll like. Shopping for Mistress can be hard as I always try to buy what I know she’ll love right when I see it or right when she mentions it. Rarely is there an incomplete shopping list to cherry pick from.
I send her a photo of my empty coffee cup from the Rick Owens store. “Thank you, Mistress. Dunkin’ has really stepped up their game.” There is something very erotic about shopping for designer gifts while secretly drinking your domme’s piss in your coffee, and I can feel myself getting wet as I hand over my card for the third and (probably not) final purchase of the day.
“My face is so hydrated!” she announces, getting back into the car. “What did you get me?”
She rummages through the bags, appraising and rating my selections as we make our way to the framer’s shop. “Not bad, but you could always be better,” she reminds me, squeezing my thigh, where she had carved that mantra a year ago.
As I spread out all of the art to be framed for the professional, she begins talking about her vision and color preferences. I find a seat in the corner of the shop, mentally noting her preferences for future reference.
Every few pieces, the framer asks, “Is this still ok?” and shows her the total. “Yes, it’s still ok,” she replies, smiling at me in the corner.
When the framer is done taking inventory, they offer a grand total of $2,000. Without prompting, I walk over and present my credit card, exchanging some of my first words with the framer in the 90+ minutes we’ve been there.
“Ok, I’m starving. Where should we go for lunch?” Mistress asks.
Finding the perfect spot within walking distance, we sit down at a cute patio table. “Oh, you won’t be eating today,” she says, sliding the menu away from me. “Yes, Mistress,” I reply, shyly wondering if the table beside us overheard. “I already gave you your lunch with your coffee, remember?”
After she finishes her lunch, it’s a relatively short trip back to her apartment. The moment we’re in the door, she instructs me to get on my knees. Fastening my shock collar around my neck, she tells me to open my mouth. I wordlessly swallow what we’ve come to call my “good girl pills” without question or hesitation.
“You’re going to be as high or as low as I want, do you understand? I control your brain chemistry now. I want you optimized for service all day and night today.”
“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”
I consult my to-do list, and start by taking everything out of the three main closets in her apartment. I’ll clean the closets, everything within them, and then put everything back in a more organized way. As I methodically complete my task, I note what she is out of and what storage accessories might make her life easier. I’ll order them before I leave so they’re here for next week’s to-do list.
Despite the fact that I am in another room, she calls (read: shocks) for me to bring her a gag. “Open,” she says. The gag, which sits uncomfortably close to my throat, slides in and fastens behind my head. “I’ll consider taking this off when you’re done with the closets and deep cleaning the bathroom.”
As I turn to leave, she grabs my collar, “Wait!” Unfastening my collar and then pulling it tighter, she laughs. “So you don’t forget me while you’re busy today.” It’s tight enough that I want to pull at it, but I don’t.
“Thank you, Mistress.” I try to say from behind the gag.
Three closets later, I’m on my hands and knees in the bathroom, trying to reach behind the toilet when I feel a hand reach between my legs. “Are you turned on cleaning my bathroom? I know it’s your favorite.” I don’t get a chance to reply before gentle touch turns to painful grab, a whimper escaping my lips and the gag. “Awe, how long has it been since you’ve been allowed to cum? Just kidding, I don’t care.” Relief washes over me as she releases her grip and finally removes the uncomfortable gag.
“Kneel.” A single word in her forceful tone sends electricity to my pussy every time. “I made you dinner!” She hands me a rather full glass of fresh piss with two more good girl pills. “I want the glass empty within the hour,” she says, shocking me for emphasis on her way out of the bathroom.
I can sense my usual time to complete service is winding down as I finish the bathroom and my glass of piss. “Should I do the dishes and garbage before I go, Mistress?” I ask. “Before you go where? Did I dismiss you?” A series of intense shocks come in rapid succession. “N-n-n-n-n-n-no, Mistress. I’m sorry.”
“Do you need a break?” Before I can decline the break, she has me kneel in front of her, facing away.
“I want to experiment, ok?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Observing as much as I possibly can, I can tell that she has a scalpel, needles, and some twine. “Breathe in…” Sharp pain enters my body as I exhale, willing myself to focus on her breathing instead of the pain. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…
My mind, which had been racing all day and hyper focused on service, seemed to slow, if not melt away completely. I am so focused on her breathing that I barely feel the next five needles go in.
As twine is weaved in and around the needles, pushing and pulling them, I hear the scalpel wrapper open. “Do you know what I’m writing?” she asks, making another cut. “No, Mistress.” When she asks if that’s ok, I enthusiastically reply, “Yes, Mistress.”
All I aspire to be is a little test subject for Mistress. A little object that can be used however she sees fit. A little vessel for experimentation and optimization.
When she’s done, she takes a photo and shows me “Donkey”, a nickname, written across my back. In the photo, blood is spilling down and pooling on twine still laced across my back. I’m relieved to know that’s what she wrote as I was having trouble guessing the letters as they appeared—I’ve always been terrible at that game.
“Go shower, and then get back to work. This concludes your only break of the day.”
Still nestled in subspace, I say, “Thank you, Mistress. The benefits here are incredible.” and wander to the bathroom.
The contrast of the hyperfocus and this feeling of relaxation, calm, and quiet is unlike anything I’ve felt before. Have you ever felt like someone was playing with your brain chemistry? The feeling of being a test subject washes over me again as my blood pools in the drain.
“You’re going to stay up all night for me. I’ve prepared an additional list of tasks for you to do quietly in the other room. I want it done by the time I wake up at 10 a.m. You can tell me all about your work over breakfast in bed.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Handing me the list and another good girl pill, she closes the door.
I’m somehow surprised by how soon 9 a.m. arrives, but I do end up completing all of my tasks. I quietly slip out to make eggs, bacon, and avocado toast for breakfast. By 9:55 a.m., I am knocking on the door once again. “Come in!” she calls with a shock for good measure.
As I present the breakfast I prepared and a full summary of everything that I had completed overnight, she smiles. “Such a good girl for me! Do you want to lay down?”
Something about seeing her cozy in bed does make me suddenly realize I have not slept or eaten in 24 hours. “Yes, Mistress.” She opens her legs, motioning for me to lay between them while she eats.
“Do you want breakfast, too?” I know she’s not talking about food as I stare ahead at her pussy.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“…How much do you want breakfast?”
“Please, Mistress? Can I please have breakfast?”
She grabs my credit card from her wallet on her bedside table.
“Do you know how much I’m sending myself?”
“No, Mistress.”
She smiles, “Is that ok?”
“Yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress?”
“Go ahead,” she says, pulling her panties to the side.
When she’s done, both breakfast and cumming, she tosses her phone on the bed so I can see the total. I had been humping the bed while “eating breakfast”, but had to stop because I didn’t have permission to cum. As I see the total, my hips begin to unconsciously thrust against the bed again.
She laughs, “I said no. You don’t get to cum. So pathetic.”
“Thank you, Mistress.” I sigh in defeat as she rolls off the bed.
“Take away the dishes and draw me a bath… I’ve decided I’m going to keep you here all weekend.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I reply, still recovering from my reward.
Shocks come intensely, and force me to set the dishes back down.
“What do you say?”
The shocks continue steadily until I am able to get out a, “Thank you, Mistress.”
This is part of my BDSM Stories writing contest, contributed by an eager submissive. Want a more intimate look into my personal relationships? Follow me on my OnlyFans. Don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter and for those who feel inspired by the above interview and want to make fantasy a reality, reach out.