Last night, Jade had commanded me to sleep on the floor at the foot of the bed. Waking up from my makeshift bed this morning, I felt a subtle mix of ache and contentment. Silently, I snuck out of the room to go to work, careful not to disturb Miss J as she luxuriated in the plush bed above me.
The day unfolded like any other, tinged with the usual December festivities. In the evening, we both had separate Christmas drinks to attend. Still, I couldn't shake the sense of obligation to Miss J, a feeling that followed me even into the most mundane activities. So, on the way home, I picked up some food for her, pondering how best to present it.
Jade returned around 9:30 in the evening, and in my slightly inebriated state, I made an almost unforgivable slip. Instead of addressing her with the respectful "Miss J," as I'm always supposed to, I let her real name escape my lips.
"I was thinking earlier, 'I need to get food for Jade'—I mean, 'Miss J'," I blurted out.
For a moment, the room tensed, time holding its breath. Then, she just laughed and asked, "Have you been drinking?"
Her reaction was more lenient than I had anticipated, her laughter imbuing the air with a sense of relief.
Not long after we had dinner, the atmosphere shifted subtly, pulling us into the haven of my bedroom, a space which had, over time, become a sanctuary for our unique form of intimacy. Miss J's voice was calm but commanding as she ordered me to lie down on the floor, throwing a towel at me. I knew exactly what was happening. I folded the towel and placed it on the floor, then lay down with my head on the towel.
"Open your mouth," Miss J directed, and she placed a plastic funnel, the type you'd use in a kitchen, between my lips.
Miss J crouched over me and began to pee into the funnel, her piss hot and potent as it flowed into my mouth. It was a first for both of us. She released it in cautious little squirts, careful to gauge my reaction. I swallowed immediately; its strong, almost acrid taste not something to be savoured but rather endured.
After four or five such squirts, she withdrew. "I'm not comfortable continuing," she admitted. "My pee is too strong; I want to be sure it's safe for you." Her concern, contrasting with her earlier dominance, was touching. It highlighted the responsibilities that came with her power over me.
"Don't think you're off the hook," she said, "You still need to be punished." At her signal, I laid on the bed, bracing myself for what was to come. She straddled my chest and picked up the spatula we'd used in previous sessions. This time, she swung it harder than ever before, each impact jolting through my body and drawing a stinging sensation across my testicles. I could already sense the beginning of a bruise forming, a physical memory of her power over me.
Still sat on my chest, Miss J said, "Can I call your cab home, Miss J?" I of course said I would, and she reached for my phone on the bedside table and handed it to me. I dial a local cab company to arrange a pick up, all the while Miss J dealt more brutal smacks to my balls with the spatula, her eyes meeting mine as she continued her rhythmic assault on my balls. I did my best to told hold my voice together and not to cry out in response to the pain my domme was inflicting on me.
Miss J climbed off me, leaving me rubbing my aching balls gingerly. I looked up at Miss J with a mix of reverence and vulnerability. "My balls will ache tomorrow, so I won't forget you any time soon. I think you managed a bit of bruising."
Miss J looked down at me, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "I didn't know; I just saw red."
Feeling a flush of gratitude for her attention, I continued, "Thank you for taking the time to punish me. The slaps on the phone was a nice touch. You enjoyed that, didn't you?"
Her lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Yes, of course. I thought you would scream, but it proves you don't need to."
The implication was clear, and my heart pounded in response. "Which will just make it worse for you next time," she added.
"Well, I'm willing to take anything you give me," I assured her, reinforcing my commitment to our dynamic.
"Thank you for being kind with the funnel," I then said, shifting the tone slightly. "That would've been tough, but again, I would have done it."
Her expression softened. "I know. I was just worried about health implications. Didn't want you to be sick on that long flight."
At this but the mood turned a bit sombre as I thought about my upcoming trip to Australia for Christmas and New Year's, I was leaving the next day.
"I will miss you while I'm away, three weeks is a long time to go without you," I confessed.
"I'm sure it will make it all the more fun when you return," she replied, her voice tinged with both mischief and sincerity. "As we're on different time zones and it's Christmas, you're free for this period. No need for permission to wank."
"Thank you, Miss J," I said, the gratitude genuine but laced with the irony that even her permissions come as commands.
Finally, I accompanied her downstairs and handed her the Christmas gifts, wrapped neatly and awaiting her discovery come Christmas day. As she stepped into the cab, I was left with a tingling sensation, a mix of pain and exhilaration, and the indelible imprint of our evolving dynamic.
The next day I left for Australia. After the first leg of the flight I found myself in the bustling Singapore airport. Though my body was weighed down by the jet lag from the first 12-and-a-half-hour leg of the flight, my mind was brimming with emotions. Eager but nervous, I reached for my phone to text Jade.
Feeling a mix of separation anxiety and genuine need to talk to her, I tapped on my screen. "First 12 and a half hour leg done, in Singapore. Thought about you all the way, you have me so addicted to you!"
Almost instantly, her reply appeared, intensifying the knot in my chest. "I also realised three weeks is a long time not to have you on call. I underestimated!"
The realisation hit me like a ton of bricks; I swallowed hard and typed "I know," finished it off with a sad-faced emoji.
I wanted to bridge the gap, the emotional chasm that time zones and continents had imposed. I sent, "If you need help with anything, let me know. The time difference might get in the way, but I'm always here to help."
Her text popped up, soothing yet leaving me craving more. "I'll just have to get by. I want you to have a break though, but for small things, I'll ask."
