Teamviewer Enslavement Ch. 02

What could I do to reverse the damage, was my first thought. On the other hand, I wasn't too sure what damage had occurred. Could I just cut her off? Maybe the thing to do was to play along. She had implied she wanted to play a little more, and she's said she wanted to start me off light. Maybe I could explain my limits and she'd hit me for something small and we'd be done? She was probably a little afraid too. You never know what kind of crazies are on the other end, particularly if you're a woman. Yeah, that was probably true.

While feeling my heart drop and my pulse shimmy, I also felt the onset of horniness. I was always horny in the morning, and as I sat there in my t-shirt and jeans, looking at a blank screen that said my computer was on standby, I decided to man up and just find out what next.

I hit the buttons, seeing the screen come back up. Login showed, including the names, Administrator, Becki and Beckyssissybitch. I picked the first, and tried no password, which was how it used to be, but it gave an error indication.

There was no choice but to select Beckyssissybitch and type the password:

SissYmaid847229782cOcksucker20572047230RuInEDmoneyPiG89783541612938

My desktop came up, and it looked a lot different. At first I thought it was broken because only a handful of icons graced the field. I tried to go to my computer, and couldn't even find the icon off the start button. That folder full of dicks though, it was still there, and all the photos easily pulled up.

What exactly had we done? My laptop's camera had captured most of it, so I spun about in my chair and checked out the video of our online session. The replay of that was pretty intense, causing me to miss her logging on.

"What are you looking at, Joe?" Somehow, the speakers on my desktop had turned to high. Her face showed in the right, top corner of the screen

I spun back. "Sorry, Mistress Becky. Just doing some work."

"That's alright. Did you have fun, last night?"

I typed, "Very much. But, I was wondering if you are open to talking about limits? I'm not a very rich guy, and—"

"You can speak into your microphone."

"Oh, sorry. I'm used to typing," I said.

"Better. Now, limits? I suppose we can work from that."

I wanted more, but I decided to settle for compromise. "Thank you, Mistress Becky." If she saw me as normal, we could maybe be more like normal, I decided.

She had on a bathrobe, I, of course, noticed. Her cleavage and skin below even that, split all the way down past the edge of the desk. I was glad I was in jeans, and didn't look like an idiot, as I suppose I had last night, wearing only jockeys under the table's edge.

"What sort of work do you do, Joe?"

"I'm an auditor. That's like accounting, only with a better license."

"Pays well?"

"Not too well. Enough to pay my bills, I suppose." Best to lie about that, though I'd implied more the night before. Maybe she didn't know what CPAs like me made.

"Uh-huh. I do flowers."

"Really?"

"Yes. My business is to package and deliver them for my area. You know those online flower businesses that deliver by a certain day."

I nodded.

"Well, they need someone to put the flowers together like they're shown in the ads, then deliver them."

"Sounds like a nice, local business model."

"For me. I even get health insurance, and can either do it myself, or hire someone for the deliveries."

"Good for you. I see that as highly industrious."

"Not as great as a job like yours. Skills like yours are in demand. I bet you do most your work at home, like me, though, huh." She smiled and adjusted the brightness of the camera showing her face.

"I do. As long as I don't have to go pick up someone's ledgers or go drum up new clients. Mostly it's just me and my software, data flowing through the pipeline and knowing which columns to park the numbers."

"Whow, you're really an intelligent person. I get so many dorks trying to hit me up. Did most people in your college flunk out or go for something easier?"

"Lots, yeah."

"Are you single? Not that I'm being forward or anything. I know I'm not the prettiest woman on the internet." She winked.

"You're very attractive, and I wasn't lying when I thought your business idea was industrious."

"Oh, you're so nice. Thank you for saying that. It's good to occasionally meet somebody nice."

"You're welcome," I replied, smiling back. This was going well. What a strange way to meet a reasonable lady. She was way easier to get along with than my ex, and though a little on the heavy side. I was a bit overweight too, so... "Do you live near Pittsburgh?"

"One state over. We're almost neighbors." She laughed. I smiled and took a breath.

"Well, stand up, Joe. Let me take a look at you. No, me first." She stood, and I could see her prance back from her table. The nightgown was almost sheer, so I saw a good deal of round breasts and I realized I'd been wrong. Not two hundred, but maybe only a hundred and seventy. She was chesty.

She sat. "You now."

I stood. She moved her head around in the little camera screen, seemingly looking at my butt. Sure enough, she said, "Nice butt," and laughed.

I turned, up near the desk, about to reach back and pull the chair back up.

She said, "You can't focus these computer cameras. I hate that. Step back, Joe, I want to get a screen snap of all of you. Like you saw of me."

I did.

"Joe...."

"Anderson."

"I knew that. I've seen your computer, remember. Just wanted to see if you was the secretive type. I meet married men all the time, who never fess up." She chuckled.

I grabbed for the chair, which had wheeled behind me some.

"Hold it a second, Joe. Just say your whole name, and where you're from, so I can get a video of you talking. I meet crazy guys, and I want insurance, in case we meet. And you end up a slasher. Oh, and what you do for a living might also help."

"Alright, Joe Anderson, I'm safe, from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I do auditing, mostly at home.

"Don't forget your address. I know it anyway."

Hummm. That was true, I suppose. Makes dating easier, should she come over, I imagined. "Living at 12746 Roam Oak Highway."

"The whole thing, come on, Joe, and add who you're saying this for."

"Alright." I took a deep breath. "My name is Joe Anderson. I live at 12746 Roam Oak Highway, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and work as an auditor, mostly from home. I'm making this video for Miss Becky, whose last name I've not yet had the privilege of acquiring."

"Very nice. Now, that's out in the sticks, my mapquest says, but nice homes, I noticed. You know, you move the little man out on the street, and you can see it, even though there's big farmer sized lots and lots of privacy trees." She smiled. "Thanks. I feel safer. Now, come up close to the desk. Turn a little so I can see your butt. I always wanted a butt shot of a good looking guy in jeans." A second camera window popped up under hers, showing me. It looked pretty crisp for a computer camera video shot.

I laughed, and stepped up close, turned around then moved back to the desk, facing the front.

"Oh, perfect. I can see your bulge. Hope saying that didn't embarrass you, sweetheart." She seemed to blush.

Then her face changed to a more serious expression.

"Now, piss your pants, Joe Anderson, rich-boy, auditor smartass from Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, living in a nice house with a big lot and lots of trees."

###

I felt my face go flush. I think my heart stopped beating a few times around.

"Pee those pants, now. Come on. Get going. I'm losing patience with you, piss slut."

"But, I--"

"Who is the slave, and who is the mistress. If you want limits, you have to give me something. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"Sorry, Mistress Becky."

"There you go, a little baby amount of respect. I can't believe we've been talking fifteen whole fucking minutes, and you finally realize who the mistress and who the piss boy is."

"Sorry, Mistress. I really as just trying to--"

"Well, if you want to impress me...."

Oh, shit, she was serious. I looked down at my beltline. Shit.

"Goddamnit. Can't you even piss? What good are you. We'll have to go to something more severe, if we can't do limits. It was your idea. You said, can be talk about limits. So, I thought, do something simple. Well, if you can't do it, I can think of something really fun. For me."

"No, no. I'll do it. I just have to work it up... Mistress Becky."

"Those pants had better be completely soaked, beltline to shoes, in the next, ten, nine, eight... seven... six and a half, six... four... two... one and a half--"

"Oh, shit." I started peeing. I had no choice. And because I'd woken and kept a hard-on, the top of my jeans soaked fast. I felt like cutting it off, but remembered what she'd said about doing it right, or there being consequences, and just let it all out. Yeah, I'd been nervous, and yeah, I really had needed to pee, so it soaked and soaked, tinkling down the inside of my right leg more than the left, but quickly a good nine or ten inches across and all the way from my belly to wetting a sock. I soon felt it squishy in my tennis shoes. After all that, I just stood there, red-faced, and feeling my dick and balls getting cold from the warm urine starting to cool.

"Pissing your pants like a little boy. You're disgusting, Joe. Or is it Joe? What was the name I came up with for you, last night, Joe? I mean, the one I assigned you to remember because I own your computer and can ruin your life?"

"Beckyssissybitch, Mistress Becky."

"Oh, I can't see your face. Sit. Sit in your pee, like a baby. Get that nice office chair nice and smelly-wet. That a good bedwetter. Now, say that again."

"Beckyssissybitch, Mistress Becky."

"Good. You can remember something. For a dumb-assed college boy, I was wondering for a moment. Now, let's take a long look at your new password for getting into my new computer. You can use your cheat-sheet for this, Joe. What's the new password? Say it back to me."

"Oh, this is terrible. I didn't mean to ask for all this. I really do like you, Miss Becky."

"I thought we respected one another, Joe. Now you're being stupid. You asked to do something limited. Is this really hard? You're in your own house, nobody's watching. I own your ass. Everything on your computer is in my external hard drive as we speak. I could be doing just about anything. Maybe even put you in jail, for all I know. God knows what I'd find if I looked close enough. Every relative, every employer, every account.... If you're not going to honor the spirit of limits, then I'm going to have to--"

"No, no, no, I'm sorry, Mistress Becky. You're right. I'm just not in the headspace, but for you, I'll do it anyway. You have every right to be upset, Mistress. It must be frustrating, doing the hard work you do."

"Better, but I'm not hearing anything. In fact, I think you should start over. Name, where you live, what you do, maybe stand a moment, show me your wet diaper, comment about how much you enjoy pissing your panties, then your new name. Add something to surprise me, about here. Then, how much you like pissing yourself all the time. Then we can start by going over your password, part by part. Make it natural, like it's your idea. Which, incidentally, it was when you said, limits."

"Yes, of course, Mistress Becky. I'm so stupid."

"Yes, so let's practice. Start with the last part, the password. It has three fun, phrases in it. I just want to hear you say how much you enjoy your new password."

"Okay, Mistress. Umm, Sissy maid 847229--"

"No, no, no. Not like that. Say, in my password is the phrase, sissy maid. I chose it because... then you adlib the rest. This is all about you, Joe. You're the one, after all, who contacted me last night and said you wanted to play. Break the password down, piece by piece, and maybe even add in some information about you contacting me, and what I did to your computer and how you proposed limits, but after all the stuff I specifically asked you to prepare for your little speech today. Ready?"

I swallowed hard, trying to remember everything. I was worried I'd forget something, and decided to take it slow, and maybe embellish. If I did, she'd be happy, and respect this as a limit. It was harsh, but I could do it, I decided. Then we'd be done, and well, over time she'd come around, and maybe even date me. I did like her. We had struck up a rapport, hadn't we?

"I'm ready," I said.

"Good. Now, I'm not going to interrupt. Depending upon how well you do, I'll either add things and make you do it again, or just go to something a lot harsher. We're trying to work within limits today, and respect that."

"Yes ma'am."

She didn't respond, only stared at me harshly, and while sitting back in her chair. The screen of my, that had been under hers was gone.

"Ummm. I'm making this video today because I want to say... (oh, this was going badly) My name is Joe Anderson. I'm an auditor who lives at 12746 Roam Oak Highway, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Um, I'm five feet, nine, and weight a hundred and ninety pounds. I just got divorced, and...."

I stood.

"I just pissed myself. I do this all the time because I... uh... enjoy it."

I sat down. This sounded really bad, I realized.

"Okay, I have picked a new computer name for when I log onto Mistress Becky's computer. It's Becky's Sissy Bitch. I really like the new name. It has a ring to it. And, my new password is several words or phrases mixed up with numbers."

I swallowed hard. I think my head felt swimming some.

"The password's first phrase," and I read, "is, sissy maid. I like to pretend I'm a submissive shemale, sometimes, when I'm horny. And the next phrase is," I read it off the sheet, and almost couldn't say the words: "cocksucker." When in deep subspace, I imagine myself able to do that, though I'm heterosexual, which is probably why it feels so submissive to me. Men who don't like men are embarrassed most by thinking along those lines.

"Finally, the last phrase in the password is... "

I glared up at the video box inhabited by Mistress Becky. She rolled her eyes, and kicked, judging from the way her body jerked.

"Ahum. The last phrase is ruined money pig. I, I, I, I, occasionally fantasize that someone will b, bl, blll, blackmail--I suppose is one way of thinking of it--blackmail me into doing things, or paying for small gifts for a... few days. It's kind of a head game that makes me feel used, which is important for men into sexual slavery fantasy moments. This doesn't last, and I've never actually...."

She started typing, I noticed.

The little typing window showed someone then came up, "ADLIB."

She kept typing.

I added, "I am submissive, lots of times. I am also—"

"Start that password speech over, and make it clear that you love all those things and want them, or you'll be sucking dick and giving me your last dime by this time tomorrow!!!!!"

"Shit." I looked up at the screen. "I mean, I am a sissy maid. I enjoy cleaning the house, while dressed in panties, and an apron."

Fuck it, I told myself. I was in way too deep to not just continue.

"I like to suck cock. And, I want to be a ruined, money pig, blackmailed and degraded by an authoritative mistress."

She typed, "A lot!"

"I want it a lot. I crave being fucked in the ass and mouth, and wallet raped until I'm ruined."

On the other side of the computer, she clapped.

The sound came back up. "Very nice, Joe. I tell you what, I'm going to edit that so the little mistakes are cut out, and leave it on my desktop for you to enjoy and contemplate until this evening, say around six. You can get some work done between now and then because I'm leaving the parental controls open for you. And, of course, you can use your other computer."

"Yes, Mistress Becky." I felt totally defeated.

"Between now and then though, I want you to write a two thousand word essay on why you are so appreciative that I'm going to help you become a suck cocking faggot for me. Watch the clock, because once every half hour, you're to go get another sixteen ounces of water, coffee, cola, whatever suits you. See, I'm being nice, and not letting you dehydrate. Then, at exactly the top of each hour, you stand in front of my camera, smile, repeat the same speech you just gave, only better each time, and pee your little pansy pants again. This is going to go on all day. You're not going out for lunch, taking a shower or changing your pissy faggot pants. I imagine your chair will end up ruined, but we'll fix that later."

"Ummm." I'd thought about arguing, but it was useless. Fuck, this was crazy. But, what could I do. She had so much on me. And, I needed to do this, if for no other reason, than to keep the limits to something reasonable. And to keep it just between her and I and not go to external extremes. "Yes, Mistress Becky," I sadly said, almost as a sigh.

"Leave the little cocksucker spew on my desktop, since you are a slave user my computer now, and aren't allowed by it's mistress to use the folders. Only the mistress, who is playing this little limits game, and who isn't a cock-sucking sissy-maid pay-piggy, can use those folders now."

She left her chair.

I waited. When she came back, it looked like she was doing something else. She even started talking, as if to another person.

"Shit." I'd been dismissed.

Then she looked right at me, and held her head cantered, as if warning.

I jumped out of my wet cushioned seat and made a sixteen ounce glass of water, while putting on a huge pot of coffee. What choice did I have, if I wanted her to not get mad and take me past this limit, which was disgusting, but I'd already done it, so...? Then I came back to my desk and started doing my work. Off in the corner, on the desktop computer, Mistress Becky brought a box of flowers to the opposite bench, and started making vases. Damn, she'd not lied about having a normal life. But, what did I have?

Seven o'clock struck faster than I'd hoped. I had no choice, if I was going to limit the damage, and not entice her to do worse to me.

I stood, and stepped back, so the camera could see all of me. I said: "My new computer name is Becky's Sissy Bitch. I really like the new name. It has a ring to it that makes me happy. My new password is several words or phrases mixed up with numbers, just so I can work at remembering it for Mistress Becky. The password contains the phrase, sissy maid. I want to be a submissive slut who cleans for her mistress. When I'm horny, I imagine myself sucking cock for my mistress. The last phrase in the password is ruined money pig. I am a blackmailed paypig. These phrases help me become a better slave. I imagine sucking cock to please my mistress. I crave being fucked in the ass and mouth, and used like a whore..."

I stepped closer to the table, looked down at the cold and dark smear of my foul-smelling pants, and warmed the wetness until empty.

Oh God, what next, I wondered, as I sat in my soaked chair and tried to concentrate on my work.