I get so excited when I see my Mistress or hear her voice. She and I have been involved for years and I feel I know her well. I meet her every Saturday at different places all over the city. I am sure that anyone that sees us on the street would think that we were just a couple who where just walking around, taking in the sights. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
In my daily life, I work for a computer gaming company. It’s a great job for someone like me. I get paid to dream up ways for people to waste time. I get paid to think up games set in magical kingdoms in faraway realms. I love my job, because I don’t have to think of mundane things, like how I’m am a social failure and no one, man or woman, has ever given me a second glance. I am good at what I do, so I have amassed enormous wealth. This wealth allows me to travel to another city to meet my beautiful Mistress.
Actually I am nothing more that her faithful , in her presence only to serve her every whim. When I am with her, I dress all in black, down to my fingernails. Most people think I’m a Goth since I wear dark eyeliner and black lipstick. Around my neck, there is a spiked dog collar. There are matching cuffs on my wrists. I actually wear all of this for a dual purpose. First, it is somewhat of a disguise, but mostly I do it so that I can wear the dog collar and cuffs without others recognizing their true meaning. We usually visit some of her friends on these outings, but they aren’t social calls. Most of the people at these meetings are couples. They are there to have sex with each other. My sole purpose there is to “clean up” after everyone, women and men. My Mistress demands that I perform my duties as her slave without whining or complaining. Most of the time, I do as I’m told and say nothing. When I manage this, my Mistress is pleased with me and I’m rewarded.
I’m kept in chastity most of the time, at her insistence. I can feel it holding my cock and balls snugly in place. She uses those numbered plastic locks so she will know if I cut myself free during the week. She also agreed to the plastic locks because I fly down every week to meet her and I don’t want to have to explain the device to airport security. Sometimes, it is uncomfortable at night, as my cock tries to get hard, but I don’t dare try to take it off. That would make my Mistress upset with me and I don’t know what she would do to me as punishment for disobeying her. She lets me take it off on those Saturdays, if she feels that I have been especially submissive and good. Occasionally she’ll even let me cum! I live for those days!
During those visits, I do everything for my Mistress. I feed her food. I’m a footstool if she desires it. If we stay around the house, I spend most of my day on the end of a long chain that is attached at one end to my spiked collar and the other to her wrist. I can’t get away. But why would I want to? I live to please my Mistress. She makes shave my legs and dress in a white teddy and stockings and high-heeled shoes. She makes me sashay around the room, shaking my little ass and daring me to drop the food or drink tray I’m carrying. It is hard and I had to learn not how to walk in heels on thick shag carpet without twisting my ankle and falling on my ass. It was worth all practice and blisters to please my Mistress.
I never want to leave my Mistress at the end of those Saturdays. I secretly wish that I could stay with her and be her slave forever. I got up the courage to tell her this once and she laughed and told me that she couldn’t take living with such a loser like me 24/7. Then she shook her head and walked away, still laughing. She came back after a minute and said that I had better be happy with being her occasional loser slave. Then she took me, back in my street clothes, all respectable, to the airport. I told her I would do anything to please her. She told me to get on the plane without another word. She would see me again on the following Saturday. I wanted to please her, so with my head hung I left her car and walked into the airport, bound for my other life.