The Teamviewer Mature Files

Notepad came up, and she typed: Try explorer, or to find your files.

I tried finding My Computer, and failed. I had no Control Panel at all. Explorer didn't access my drives. I couldn't even bring up My Programs. I had no way of looking at any folders or drives or anything. The computer was mostly just a nightlight.

She wrote: Good. Think of it as my computer. I'll decide what you can do while slaving at it. If I want you to have access to something, I'll put the folder on my new slave Joe desktop.

The screen went blank and returned as Linda logging in. She had lots of icons on her homepage. I began to realize I'd not have much control or even access to my own stuff. She had full access to everything, and I mean everything.

She immediately brought up the camera and notepad.

She wrote: You get one hour of time. Then I want you to turn off the monitor, but leave the computer on. From this moment on, the computer will remain on at all times, but with the screen blank until the time I tell you to turn it on and start your time of slaving for me. I'll know from the glare because the camera will be on and the room lights off. Do you understand me, slave? Don't look so forlorn. I will be leaving assignments and other fun things for a slave to do, but you will have to leave the computer on or I'll end this special relationship and see what mischief I can come up with, regarding what I already know about you, which is substantial, I imagine, once I look over your files.

All of a sudden, my browser came up. She went to Craigslist for my hometown, found a gay personal ad, and hit the e-mail on it. My e-mail came up. She typed in: Tell me more, big guy, then she hit send.

I'm just teasing him, but who knows, he may reply, she typed. If you're not nice, I might invite him over. My favorites came up, and I noticed some kind of screen blink, like she'd taken a snapshot. The list of my favorites was three pages long. The screen blinked three times.

I found the keyboard free. I typed: Yes, Mistress. But, please don't do that. I'm not gay. Don't mess with my e-mail, please. I beg you.

She wrote: Good to see I have your attention. Now, you may not be gay, but you are my sissy slave, so we have to get you started on some humiliation. For your hour, you will go on the web and look for pictures of penises. I like penises and want a collection. I want your picture folder on the desktop full of at least 200 pictures of men with their cocks hanging out. The cock should be at least half as tall or wide as the page, so focus. Your hour starts now. Log in, and get busy. Then log off, and go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow at 6 AM. And I have a lot more for you to do then. Maybe I'll let you buy me something inexpensive on Amazon. I do want to start you off light. If you don't do what I ask, I'll only ask for something more humiliating, later. If you comply, I'll show some mercy and we can negotiate the next thing; maybe something you like.

The screen went blank and the login screen appeared. Oh my God. I had an hour to find two hundred pictures of dicks. That's disgusting. I didn't have a gay bone in my body. Then I had to turn the monitor off. What if she logged in while I was asleep? What would she be doing? What had just happened to me?

After logging in with the disgusting password, I got busy going to site after site, finding men with their dicks hanging out and dragging the pictures into the folder provided. I had to work frantically. In the end I didn't even have time to see if I'd found enough of them before time was up and I dutifully logged off.

I awoke when the alarm went off at 5:45 AM, which was about an hour after I could finally doze off. Sitting bolt-upright, my mind raced. "Oh my God! What have I done?"

Teamviewer Femdom File

By jo199

Chapter Two

What can 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'd said she wanted to start me off light. Maybe I could explain my limits, and she'd hit me for something small. 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 almost certainly true. These internet dommes were fleeting individuals, just in it for the momentary thrill and payoff.

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, Linda and Lindassissybitch. 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 Lindassissybitch 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. That was disgusting.

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 first quarter of that replay was pretty intense, causing me to miss her logging on.

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

I spun back. "Sorry, Mistress Linda. 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 that kinky and 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 Linda." 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 panties 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. I put them together then deliver them."

"Sounds like a nice local business model."

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

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

"Not as great of a job as yours, though. Skills like yours are in demand. I bet you do most your work at home, like me, 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."

"Whew, 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, though a little on the heavy side. I was thirty pounds overweight too, so... "Do you live near Pittsburgh?"

"One state over. We're almost neighbors. It's only an hour drive." She laughed. "Don't get your hopes up."

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. They 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 Newark, Ohio. 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, Newark, Ohio, and work as an auditor, mostly from home. I'm making this video for Miss Linda, 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 Google man out on the street, and you can see it, even though there are big farmer-sized lots and bunches 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 little 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 Hebron, Ohio, living in a nice house with a big lot and lots of privacy 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, you incontinent 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 Linda."

"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 is and who the piss boy is."

"Sorry, Mistress. I really was just trying to—"

"Well, if you want limits, you need to impress me first, or else...."

Oh, shit, she was serious. I looked down at my beltline. Shit. "I'm not really into—"

"Goddamnit. Is this all about you? What kind of slavery is that? Can't you even piss? What good are you? That's like minimum. We'll have to go to something more severe, if we can't do limited things in private. It was your idea. You said, can be talk about limits. So, I thought, do something simple and easy.... 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 Linda."

"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, one, one last half second before—"

"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 the flow off, but remembered what she'd said about doing it right, or there being consequences. I let go 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.

"You're pissing your pants like a little boy. You're disgusting, Joe. Or is it Joey? What was the name I came up with for you, last night, Joey? I mean, the one I assigned you to remember because I own your computer and can ruin your life if you don't do everything I tell you to?"

"Lindassissybitch, Mistress Linda."

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

"Lindassissybitch, Mistress Linda."

Now, add in what you just did for me.

"Lindassissybitch, pants pisser, Mistress Linda."

"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, nice and slow."

"Oh, this is terrible. I didn't mean to ask for all this. I really do like you, Miss Linda. Can we just do something a little less—"

"I thought we respected one another, Joe. Now you're being stupid, topping from the bottom. You asked to do something limited. Is this really hard? You're in your own house, nobody's watching. I own your ass, but I'm getting nothing out of it. Of course, everything on your computer is in my external hard drive, as we speak. I could be doing just about anything. Maybe even puttin 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 Linda. You're right. I'm just not in the headspace, but for you I'll do it anyway. I'll get there. You have every right to be upset, Mistress. It must be frustrating, doing the hard work you do and running into people who want to top from the bottom."

"Better, but I'm not hearing what I demanded. In fact, I think you should start over. Your 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, or for that matter, when you logged on and e-mailed me for this, last night."

"Yes, of course, Mistress Linda. 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 your submission, Joe. You're the one, after all, who contacted me last night and said you wanted to play bottom boy. I want some creativity back, so I have something to enjoy, too. Sadists are people too, don't you think? We have things we like."

Oh, shit. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now, 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 that add in 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 slowly 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, for a large black lady. I'd never dated a black lady before, and maybe I'd get into it. We had struck up a rapport, hadn't we? If we did some of this as part of a relationship, nobody would know, and we could find a day each month to get weird.

"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. All we're doing is talking, so far."

"Yes ma'am."

She didn't respond, only stared at me harshly while sitting back in her chair. The screen of my picture, 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, Hebron, Ohio. 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 and can't control my need to embarrass myself."

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

"Okay, I have picked a new computer name for when I log onto Mistress Linda's computer. It's her computer, now, because she Teamviewered me and took it over. My new computer name is Linda'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 alone. 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 being forced to do that for a lady, though I'm heterosexual, which is probably why it feels so submissive to me. Men who don't like sex with men are embarrassed most by thinking along those lines of being made to do things unsavory by women.

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

I glared up at the video box inhabited by Mistress Linda. 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 hours. 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—"