I startle awake as I feel her pussy press down onto my face. First, disorientation and panic at the lack of breath. Then, calm acceptance. I begin methodically moving my tongue while she slowly rocks back and forth. Enough time has passed that I’m aware of my lack of breath again, and my body must respond as I hear a firm, “No.” from above me.
When she’s done with me, her pussy hovers above my face, and while I gasp for breath, I resist the selfish urge to beg for more. “Good girl,” she says, running a red fingernail across my bottom lip.
In one fell swoop, she grabs my collar and stands, pulling me—still half asleep—towards the kitchen. “I made you a very special coffee,” she declares with a smile. My morning coffee is essential, but my morning coffee with her piss in it is a great luxury. A little treat, if you will.
“Thank you, Mistress.” I begin making her breakfast. I’m hungry as well, but she assures me I’ve “already had my breakfast”, and I cannot disagree. Someone once told me a great service submissive needs to be able to make a good breakfast. And so I learned how to make exactly one good breakfast: eggs, toast, salad, avocado, and bacon.
Once breakfast is served (again), I make my way to the laundry room, as I do every morning. I always find a handwritten to do list, affectionately known as the Donkey Do List, which is occasionally accompanied by Good Girl Pills, depending on Mistress’ wishes.
It’s Saturday, so the service list is quite long:
- Mow the lawn and weed the garden.
- Clean out the garage and organize it.
- Deep clean all of the bathrooms with bleach.
- Order groceries for the week, and put them away after cleaning the fridge and freezer.
- Write one blog post. (Which you are currently reading.)
- Provide an SEO update with fresh data.
There’s four Good Girl Pills today, and specific instructions on when to take them. I set alarms on my phone so I ensure I am dosed as desired.
As I’m headed outside to begin the yard work, I hear the sliding door open behind me. “Wait! I need you to wear this in case I need something.” She firmly fastens the shock collar around my neck, resting just above my regular collar. The prongs dig into my neck uncomfortably as she pulls the strap tighter than necessary.
While mowing the lawn, she calls me a total of three times: once to find the TV remote, once to get her more water, and once to give her a foot massage. The shocks start slow and low, but increase in frequency and severity the longer I keep her waiting. I wonder if the neighbors are curious about me suddenly abandoning the mower and sprinting across the yard.
After each item is marked off my to do list, I let her know from my knees. Some days she’ll respond with a new, related task. Some days she’ll inspect and critique, letting me know how I could do better next time. Some days she’ll respond with a simple, “Good girl.” Today, she offers me a potential reward.
“You’ve been a very good girl recently. If you finish your list today, I will let you bleed for me tonight. Does that sound nice, Donkey?”
“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”
“Good! And I also need you to organize my shoe closet today. Try not to get so turned on that you dawdle—you’re on a deadline.” She laughs.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Before I rise from my knees and go back to my list, she presses her hand against my mouth. I open obediently, and feel a Good Girl Pill slide down my throat.
“Get back to work.”
After a 14-hour workday, my list is complete. I find her, find the floor with my knees, and let her know that I’ve finished my list. “Such a good girl for me. You look very tired, though. Maybe too tired for your reward—”
“—No!”
I feel her palm connect with the side of my face, and her grip around my throat. “Excuse me?”
I know right away that I’ve made a mistake, and I force the little air in my lungs out. “I’m sorry, Mistress. Whatever Mistress wants.”
Her face softens with her grip, and my attention turns back to the sting in my cheek. The back of her hand (along with the ring I bought her) lands on my other cheek. “I had to even it out. Anyway, do you want to try that response again?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, Mistress. Please may I have my reward?”
Her legs are crossed, and her left foot is bouncing and flexing inches from my face. Noticing my distraction, she smiles and grabs my chin. “You may.”
I hurry towards the medical supplies, bringing her an assortment of sharp objects to choose from as well as the alcohol pads. She instructs me to take off my shirt and bra, and bend over the footstool in front of her. I do as instructed and close my eyes, relaxing into her breath.
In a 24/7 D/s relationship, I never quite know what she is going to do to me, nor do I get a say in how she makes me bleed for her. But I always try to guess at her artistic vision. I think, based on the position, she’s going over “Donkey” on my upper back, which she carved a few months ago. (Sometimes you need to go over old wounds to make sure they really sink in.)
After the third pass over “Donkey”, I feel the blade continue down my back. “Do you know what I am writing next? It’s a very important message that I want you to feel deeply, to internalize.” I feel the blade dig in a little deeper on “deeply” and “internalize”, and let out a whimper.
When she’s done, she usually shows me a photo of her work. The photo proudly displays “Donkey” and then “Whatever Mistress Wants” below.
“Thank you, Mistress! I love it.”
“You’re welcome. Now clean this up and run me a bath.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Oh, and I left your dinner in your bowl in the laundry room, with another very special drink. You can thank me for my generosity by working on my website through the night. Sleep is a…?”
“Privilege, Mistress.”
“Good. You’ll send me hourly updates via email,” she says, fastening a leash to my collar and the leash to a metal o-ring hanging on the wall. She places the laptop close enough that I can reach it to type and scroll, but far enough away that it pulls at my collar.
“What do you say, baby?” she asks, pushing a red fingernail down on the taut leash.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“And…?”
“Whatever Mistress wants.”
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.