The following domination phone sex story is written by slave #6 mock him as you please.
“In over 15 sexually frustrated years of serving Mistresses, I had never experienced a phone session in a public setting. My heart raced with arousing sexual fear, nearly beating through my chest as I walked into a local recreational park, nervously fumbling along a bench-lined path with my phone in hand to covertly open Mistress Lisa’s page. I paced towards the most acceptably secluded bench in a tizzy, barely able to perceive my surroundings through the fog of sexual anxiety. I took a seat. I anticipated these feelings would occur and thinking ahead, I had all of my credit card information pre-entered to be as quick and discreet as possible. No getting cold feet. Just click submit and let it happen, I told myself.
But how did I get to this point, to succumb to something so anxiety-provoking and forbidden to me for so many years. Just a few days earlier, with immense luck and fortune, I had stumbled onto Mistress Lisa’s website. I was at a loss for privacy then and characteristically too fearful to just dial in and explain myself so I sent Mistress Lisa an e-mail introducing myself, describing who I am and expressing my kinks and erotic triggers. “What will she think of that?” I wondered. Surely she’d be repulsed by my loser perversions and sexual uselessness.
The next morning I saw a response in my inbox. Just the sight of the response in my inbox filled me with that characteristic sort of sexual anxiety – scared, and unmistakably aroused. Whatever her e-mail may say, I know that she KNOWS about me and how I really am with all of my pathetic repulsive perversions. I bared it all in that introductory email and she already has me beat. I open it to see a brief explanation of a billing question I had posed and no mention of anything else but a statement of her current availability for calls. No reaction or commentary whatsoever. But why would she respond with anything other than a professional courtesy stating her availability for a session? I hardly deserved such generosity as that. At this moment I knew she already understood EVERYTHING about me. She knew exactly who she is and exactly what I am. I knew she must be a TRUE Goddess, Mistress Lisa – and I had to know more, I had to know what she thought of me, and I had to do something, anything, to connect with her and at least show I was not just sending off unserious emails looking for a freebie. I hadn’t the privacy to actually call at this moment. Like many other types like me, I still live with my parents. I quickly clicked through the pre-payment for a brief text session. It was the least I could do.
I sent my first text to Mistress Lisa, politely introducing myself as the author of “that” recent e-mail. Without the slightest sort of professional formality, her very first text delivered a sharp barb, belittling me as the under-endowed pathetic loser. If I had any doubt at all that she throughly understood me it was erased with just that first message. It confirmed everything. Mistress Lisa explained how things are and how things need to be. A 10 minute text session was hardly adequate time to properly humiliate me and establish any terms to what might evolve into our relationship (if I am fortune enough and work hard enough to earn). Mistress Lisa also explained that while she would not be available in the evening (when I had more privacy) her tip/tribute button was available all night long. I was dismissed.
I knew I had to comply. To demonstrate my eagerness to submit. I was already off to an inadequate start with the lengthy introductory e-mail and a measly 10 minute text session. I longed to hear her voice and connect on the phone and most importantly prove myself as a potential slave. But days went by without any ample privacy for a proper phone session. I knew if I didn’t do anything I would lose whatever chance I might have had to earn a place in her stable of losers. It had already been two whole days since our brief exchange and panic grew to real fear. I kept thinking of how she mistreated me (or rather properly treated me) recalling her insults and her parting statement – her tip button is always available. At this point I had to send something, anything. I sent a meager tribute along with a shorter e-mail expressing my gratitude and deepest apologies for not yet being able to call in and speak on the phone.
I must have refreshed my e-mail 100 times over the next 24 hours, praying for a response. Nothing. Did she not receive my e-mail or the tribute? Was it totally unsatisfactory? Had I already ruined my chances to serve her? Overcome with fear I wrote another e-mail, just asking if at least my tribute and e-mail were received. I dreaded the offense I may have caused with a repeat e-mail but I was overwhelmed with desperation. I tossed and turned that night, pining over every word we had exchanged and whether I had lost my chance with Mistress Lisa forever.
The next morning, I discovered a new response in my inbox from Mistress Lisa. My heart pounded with the same profound anxiety only she could provoke. What will she say? I wasted not a second to open it and see an appropriately brief and dispassionate professional response confirming she had indeed received my “tiny tip” and emails, and that I needed a proper session to discuss. Every word was perfect. The exact statement to fit my erotic triggers like a key in lock. Once again, I burned with the desperation to connect with Mistress Lisa – to pour myself out to her and surrender and submit and prove that I just so desperately want to be a good boy and bask in the power she wielded.
Yet unfortunately once again, I lacked the appropriate privacy. I knew something had to be done about that. What if I called from somewhere public? I could just keep mostly quiet and avoid speaking too explicitly if anyone happened to be in earshot. But that would also mean no opportunity whatsoever to touch myself. But maybe that’s a good thing! Maybe this would be the best way to hold a formal introductory session? Would this be acceptable to Mistress Lisa? My head raced with such thoughts, but in the meantime I must do something to rectify my lackluster bumbling approaches with e-mails, brief texts, and meager tribute.
I resolved to immediately initiate a text session, though brief, to begin to properly explain myself and ask for permission to hold a phone session in a public setting. I quickly entered my payment information and texted Mistress Lisa. She expressed her understandable disappointment with my behavior thus far and explained the realities of serving a Mistress of her caliber. I understood completely. She explained that if I couldn’t call now then I would have to send a tribute. I explained that I had only a small amount left and did not want to offend her with that. She instructed me to send it anyway and call tomorrow along with another tribute. Needless to say, my already-fluttering heart pounded ever harder and I did exactly as I was told without hesitation. My very next words were “Done Miss Lisa. Thank you.”
And with that, I was dismissed. I was to call her from a public park at the same time the following day along with sending tribute and that was that. That was my mission. I had intense fears and anxieties about calling from a public space but there was no other option and I simply had to do it. Over the next 24 hours I thought of nothing else. Images of Mistress Lisa played on loop in my mind with recollections of every perfect word she had been generous enough to express to me. I could barely sleep that night. It was as if nothing else mattered, just a countdown to our session. And after such a profoundly arousing countdown how could I possibly not follow through and force myself to take the next necessary steps. The time dragged and the countdown eventually concluded. I made my way to the park – feeling a mixture of terrified and aroused to an extreme I had never experienced.
Payment was processed. Time to dial in. I barely perceived the chirping birds, the occasional pedestrian passing by, the fresh air. This was in fact the perfect environment to finally properly meet Mistress Lisa. I accepted the overwhelming fears and moved ahead, entering her number. Then entering her extension. I can’t believe I’m doing this. But I need to do this. It’s ok, I have to do this. These fleeting thoughts raced through my mind until I was greeted by the divine voice of Mistress Lisa.
I stammered and stuttered but mustered through as best I could “Hello Miss Lisa…..I had sent some emails and things before…..” She knew straight away it was me. What followed has retrospectively become a haze of a sort of fearful or anxious sexual elation. She pressed every arousal trigger button again and again. Berating me. Laughing at me. Giving me the terms I would abide by if I am to earn the privilege of serving her. Denying my desperate pleads for permission to orgasm when I return home. “No one cares! I don’t care! About you squirting out your little pathetic loser load.” I could feel the pre-cum accumulating between my thighs as I crossed and uncrossed my legs. Bystanders passed by without the slightest idea.
Another moment seared into me with pronounced arousal. I meekly expressed my fears that I might possibly not be able to check in with her on a daily basis. “Really? Well how hard is it to write a fucking email??” She was so profoundly right and I instantly yielded. And as I yielded like her little bitch I felt the dribble of precum again in that moment. I was going to submit to her and do what she said and that was that. As our call came to a close she again denied my repeated desperate pleads for permission to orgasm with zero sympathy and zero reconsideration. Then I was officially dismissed and disconnected.
I immediately opened her page again. I have to tribute. I tributed. Now I have to send an email adequately expressing my deepest gratitude. I did. Anything less would be an offense to such a momentous session and budding arrangement. And this is only the beginning. I am on her hook, completely.”
