The Teamviewer Mature Files

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—"

She speed typed: 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." God dammit, I hoped that made her happy.

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 Linda." 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 some version of 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 Linda," I sadly said, almost as a sigh.

"Leave the little cocksucker spew on my desktop, since you are a slave user on my computer now, and aren't allowed, by its mistress, to use the folders. Only the mistress is. And I'm playing this little limits game. Only someone 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. She had a second computer too, and was more than likely doing her flower business.

"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 Linda 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 Linda'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 Linda. 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, and looked down at the cold and dark smear of my foul-smelling pants. It warmed with new wetness until my bladder emptied. All the water and other drink had nearly filled my bladder again.

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

Teamviewer Femdom File

By jo199

Chapter Three.

"I found your little essay on cock sucking to be exhilarating and insightful, Sissybitch. You are very good at writing. Did you enjoy revealing your interest in being a faggot?"

By seven in the evening, I could barely stand the coldness, the wrinkled skin and the smell of old pee as I sat in my office chair, contemplating what had transpired. I'd somehow managed to get a good deal of work done, probably because I'd been so intent upon filling the time between the tasks of standing up, saying embarrassing mantras into the webcam and pissing myself, over and over again. Such tends to focus one and not leave much room for wandering around the house, getting the rest of the furniture wet. The smell was beyond appalling.

This was not sexual, I realized after a very short bit of it. Rather, it was payback. I was paying her back attention and doing what she wanted, so she'd tire of me and quit this Teamviewer threat, giving me back control of my computer and allowing me to get on with my life. If I just did what she said, like a ditzy drone, I'd tire her out.

Money domme was a stupid thing to get into. One minute of thrill for endless trouble. What was the point of it? Only an idiot succumbed to such a momentary whim. Alright, call me an idiot, but I'd learned my lesson, and when this was over, no more. One and done. Maybe I should ask if she had videos to sell; cut to the chase. Usually that was their business, I'd figured out. More than likely, if I bought ten of them at thirty bucks a cut, I'd be out a few hundred, but that'd be it.

I'd written the embarrassing essay after getting my accounting and auditing work done on the newer laptop that she didn't control. Software on that was also continually shooting external video of my ordeal with Mistress Linda, so at least I had two sources of wanking material for the next ever-so-many years. In a year, maybe I'd recover enough from my fear to even think it was kinky again. I had a huge external drive, where I kept lots of old and yearly client accounts, and I decided to plug that into each computer, one at a time, dumping the internal video capture and external movie I'd been making over the past day plus. (The data for this encounter was really adding up.) Maybe this experience was worth it, considering the intensity and how it might sate my fantasies, next time I went crazy. Instead of laughing at myself over the next few years, I'd wank to it and be done.

Laughing a little took my mind off the embarrassing essay about how much I enjoyed sucking dick and how much I enjoyed being Mistress Linda's sissy slave. Of course, I'd not ever think of doing the former and I wished like all hell I could easily break off doing the latter. More than likely I could because this was just a thing we were doing until she got bored. Getting bored was inevitable, particularly the way I was looking; it happened to everyone.

I'd tried to cut it off with the last encounter with Mistress, but this time I had to be shrewd. They say in child psychology that you gave a child two choices and that was how to get them to pick among the things you find acceptable. I'd try that with Linda. I felt sure it'd work.

She came online that evening and dismissed me to go shower. "Oh, and throw out the smelly chair. We'll go online and pick out another one for the house."

I left the computer and lingered under the shower for a long time. When I came back, I gladly took the chair to the curb. I had a lawn chair that I sat in its place. She wasn't online, but a message presented itself in notepad: Eat and rest, slave. We're going shopping at 11:30. But first, go out on the web and find another hundred penises for the folder.

I'd tried to sleep, but it had been fitful. When the alarm went off, I startled up with a dread. Still, my erection was instant, and I felt a desperate need to get back to my computer, hoping we'd at least do something sexual.

Mistress Linda was already shopping on Amazon. The shopping cart she was in had the page number 8 under it.

We were back to chatting by typing, I noticed.

She typed:There you are. I'm getting you some new things.

Joe: For me?

After marking a size and both big and tall, she moved a grey and white service-maid dress into the cart. It was listed at $59.

Linda:You do need a firm hand.

Joe: Yes, Mistress Linda.

I figured I didn't have to actually buy what was in the cart. Even if I did, I could return the whole box of things, once they got here. Alright, boxes of things.

Linda:Stand up. Let me get another look at what I have to work with.

I stood, feeling a little awkward with a boner. After all, I meant to argue for calling this thing off.

Joe: We need to talk about limits, Mistress Linda.

Linda:Ha! The size of your dick is a limit, all by itself. I know, I know. But bear with me, slave. In the meantime, please type your name.

Joe: Lindassissybitch.

An item came up on the screen.

Linda:I just love this model. They say that if your dick goes in one of these for long enough, it can actually shrink. Shrink to what, I suppose you're asking.

The order form came up. It was for a chastity device made of metal. It seemed like a steel prison and only looked a couple inches long. It came complete with an attached steel rod that appeared to run down the middle of the tiny chastity device.

Joe:How does that work?

Linda:You insert the rod as you slide on the device. The end of the rod ends up inside of your little sissy cunt, right at the base of your body where the cock attaches, in the center of where the testicle ring goes around your scrotum. No way this comes off. It's like putting your little penis in jail with a constantly pestering cellmate fucking your pee hole the whole time you're locked up. Isn't that delicious. You won't be able to stop thinking about getting peephole fucked, even for a moment.

I swallowed hard, glanced down toward my dick, and typed: Yes, Mistress Linda. Is that necessary? What else do they have?

Otherwise, I was saying, hell no, deeper inside. How did a person live with a rod up his penis?

She flipped to the checkout lane. The bill was over two thousand dollars. Express checkout came next, after which she added overnight shipping charges.

I could afford it, but still it was a crazy number. I tried to grab the mouse and keep her from hitting checkout, but she had control. The credit card information came up. Amazingly, my password numbers were being typed in, and then she tapped enter.

Thank you for your purchase.

"I can't believe it," I said.

She leaned and hit some key. "You know, I have your microphone on, and I can hear everything you say."

"It's just a lot of money," I said.

She hit a few number, and the mouse ran all over the page. Finally my checking account screen came up. A few security numbers were typed in, and bang, my bank statement came up.

"You have plenty of money, Joe."

Well, I did. I had enough to retire quite comfortably on, if I needed. That only applied if I didn't blow it all. And the way she pulled up my account, like it was something she did all the time, almost stopped my heart. I seemed to recall having had a few thousand dollars more than it showed, but the bulk of the assets were in market-driven funds, so I couldn't be sure.

"All we bought were things for you, anyway, so settle down, sissybitch."

I had no choice but to placate her. She didn't even need my computer to pull up my bank and Amazon and whatever else she had the goods on. Apparently all that information was over in her computer. I'd have to wait to change my passwords and such. I determined to do that the moment we disengaged the session.

Her voice cut into my thoughts: "Now, I'm going to put on some music I uploaded to your computer, so you can dance like a fairy."

###

Later, I said to the service representative on the other end of the phone, "Uh-huh. But—"

"Sorry, Sir. That's the best I can do unless you want to fill out a police report and send us a copy. Changing orders and accounts over the phone has its limits when you can't verify mother's maiden name." She hung up.

"But what if all I want to do is cancel my account!" After she'd hung up I asked that question. It was the second time. She'd said I might be an imposter, given I couldn't answer any of the new security questions Mistress Linda had obviously changed.

I'd have to formalize everything with a police complaint and representation, maybe taking months. The police tended to think of these crimes as almost civil matters. And to be honest, those company complaint departments were dead end answering stations in India, where nobody had the authority to fix anything, anyway. I'd learned on Nightline that companies would rather settle lawsuits than keep a complaint department that actually worked; it was cheaper. Not a single complaint had ever been resolved by many of them, and some of the biggest were the worst.

I'd tried to cancel five accounts, so far, and had come up with nothing. A couple promised to do something, but I'd been asked to do it through my computer. Even my phone number no longer matched.

I picked up the phone again, and didn't even have dial tone.

After a half hour of pacing, I picked it up again, and it was back.

I had a track phone, and tried to dial myself. Nothing. I dialed out on the altered landline to my track phone, and the track phone rang.

Soon as I hung up the regular phone rang. "Hello?"

"Get your mail yet, Sissybitch?"

"Linda?"

"Who were you expecting?"

"Nobody, Mistress."

"I'm nobody?"

"Not you, Mistress."

"This attitude has to stop."

I sighed. Legal channels seemed daunting. I'd have to placate her. So far we were only into a couple thousand, and all it'd meant was kinky stuff for me to play with, anyway. I had to suck it up and out-patience her. "Sorry, Mistress. Yes, the mail came."

"Good. Bring everything in the room and start unwrapping while I do my work." She was in her flower shop, the laptop and its camera on some shelf. She turned to her own work bench, and started arranging a bouquet of flowers.

Shit. I went into the living room and brought back the packages. It took three trips. I started unwrapping. There were maid dresses, half of them frilly and the other three plain grey, like for motel workers. The aprons came in small, pink, medium plain and a huge one, like for cleaning the oven, I supposed.

She had ordered inch high heels and two inch heels. The panties were pink, red and white, some with ruffles, a couple like the kind granny wore. Then came garter belts, stockings, a couple girdles and a corset. She'd included an Este Lauder makeup kit that hadn't been cheap.

One box held nothing but a razor, some blades and a half case of Nair.

The hoop earrings had clearly been a mistake because I didn't have pierced ears. I set them aside, alongside the ebony and ivory pendant necklace. A blonde wig hadn't come cheap. A size C pair of falsies made an appearance in a box of braziers.

A tiny, pink purse with giant red lips on it had me wanting never to go out of the house.

Then came the box of novelty items. Two dildos, both black, one medium, one large. A third, a tiny white one, had a suction cup on the back of it. Another was double, like for two people at once. A strap-on harness seemed a waste since nobody was around to wear it. There were handcuffs and a fat, ugly butt plug, two inches across at the widest part.

She was sitting at her table, watching me intently as I put the last dildo down on the floor behind me.

"My phone number has been changed," I mentioned.

"I know. I had your services altered. The cable TV has been cancelled, too. And, you have a new number. But, your internet connection is better. I've had you added to my home services, like they do for college kids who move away from home. Or, more accurately, the other way around. I'm on your account now, but the bill comes to my address. Overall, it comes to about the same, and we just auto-bill it to your bank. I'll give you your new number, later, in case you need to tell clients. Pretty much all the utilities are set up like that, now."

I felt flabbergasted. Did she just say my bank account was now auto-paying for her utilities at her house?

"Open that last box, sissybitch. I'm dying to see."

"Wait a minute. About the utilities."

"All I've done is save money, Joe. If you were smart, you'd appreciate it when someone you are enslaved to saves herself money while dealing with said property. Your cable bill was atrocious, and it makes no sense at all that you were carrying hundreds on your credit cards, with all you had in savings."

"You paid off my credit card?"

"A good mistress takes care of her money slaves. It's not about robbing you blind and leaving you unable to perform. It's about making sure things go smoothly; a steady stream that benefits everyone, Joe. Paying interest, when you have the money in the bank, makes no sense. And, just so you know, I believe that two can live even more cheaply than one, which we may visit. In fact, I'm sure of it. Trust me; I have your interests foremost in my mind. Starting with paying off the credit cards."

"I only have one credit card, and it has a five thousand dollar limit."

"Well, no wonder, the way you left it sitting there with that same modest balance for god knows how long. I fixed it for us. It now has a much better balance, too, as a reward. With good credit, you can increase the limit and get several more."

"I don't want several more."

"Don't worry about it. I'm not interested in you running up a big credit card bill, either. I believe I already mentioned that and have demonstrated good faith. I'm like your new money manager, making the most of what you have, so relax." Her face appeared stern.

I swallowed then sat in my new plain chair. "Sorry, Mistress. It's just you said cards, and I only have the one so I don't get into money problems."

"Alright, I confess. I noticed how yours had been sitting with only a couple hundred off it, paying interest when it wasn't necessary, and it inspired me to pay mine off, as well. I was guilty of the same thing, so you can claim credit for causing me to see the errors of my ways and helping me pay my credit cards off. We are learning to grow more responsible, together." She smiled into the camera and leaned. The cleavage was amazing.

I didn't know what to ask. I was almost afraid to. She did sound sincere, so maybe I'd get out of this with a little better money discipline and be better off, as she suggested. Minus the splurge on sissy gear, of course.

"Are you going to open the last box, or not, sissybitch?"

I did, with dread. The steel chastity device fell out. A lock, with two keys, in a tiny, stapled plastic bag, also fell out.

"There are several rings that fit around your testicle and sissy clit," she said. "Stand up, so I can see how tiny you are, again."

I did.

"Well, take off your jockeys. My God, I can't believe you put on male panties. It's like a little clit. We'll have to get rid of the jockeys later. In the meantime, do you have any scissors?"