Femdom Stories: Tapped by Mistress Blunt

During quarantine, one of the ways I’ve been fostering my D/s relationships and keeping in touch with my submissives is having them write me stories about their deepest, darkest desires. I will continue sharing my favorite femdom stories, which have been written for and about me, here on my blog. (You can read through the archive here.)

This story was written for me by a sweet financial domination submissive, who begged my permission to write about what it would be like for him to meet a financial dominatrix (that’s me) in the wild. He writes in detail about how I slowly take control of his finances, his wallet, all of his thoughts… his life.

Tapped by Mistress Blunt: A Financial Domination Story

If she texts, I’m not going to respond. That was your first thought when you woke up this morning. If she texts you, you’re going to finally put your foot down. This has been going on for long enough and it doesn’t make sense anymore. You’re not going to respond or, at the very least, you’re going to start demanding some changes. 

It all started a few weeks ago in a bar, a little higher class than the ones you’re used to attending. You had an artist’s rep to maintain, after all. For some reason your sculptures and paintings and noise projects saw all their creativity come from dingy, dirty bars where the only thing was beer and you’d be lucky if there was a toilet seat. These were places of creativity, places where you could become invisible. At least until your girlfriend dumped you in one of them.

Suddenly every dive bar in the world reminded you of her. Her look, her laugh, her cooking. The whole thing. But you didn’t want to drink in your apartment, which is what led you to the slightly fancier bar with mood lighting, a garden and mixed drinks. You ignored the garden and were making the best of it, downing overpriced beers and reading a book in the dim red light when Danielle Blunt sat down next to you. That’s when all this trouble began.

You weren’t looking for anything, after all. You wanted to read your book and sulk and curse the world. This beautiful woman had sat down next to you, sure, but that sort of thing happened all the time. You were in the middle of cursing the world when she said,

“Excuse me. Would you want to buy me a drink?”

Just like that. A smile curled your lips. You got a better look at this beautiful woman sitting next to you, frizzy hair and hourglass shape. She was wearing this beautiful, minimalist black dress, the type they had in all those magazines your ex used to subscribe to. To avoid thinking about her, you started to focus on the silver zipper in the front, moving down her neckline to her clearly impressive cleavage. Between breasts and breakups, you were frozen for a second.

“Hi.”

“Hi, I’m Danielle. Want to buy me a drink?”

You were shocked by how forward she was. But maybe this is just how women do it in this part of Brooklyn, you thought. A smile curled your lips. 

“Yeah, of course. What are you having?”

She ordered an expensive mixed drink and you began talking. You had wonderful chemistry. She knew so many of the venues you had exhibited at, knew artists whose work you had admired. She had apparently even been to a show where you exhibited.

You found yourself ordering drinks, over and over again, and talking about your life. She seemed to want to know everything. You talked about how you had gotten into art, about visiting the Met as a kid and knowing you had to be an artist in New York after that, your favorite living artists, your favorite dead artists, how you knew about the cliche of trust fund kids in Brooklyn (and yes, you had one but no, you weren’t one of those kids, you actually worked for a living). 

“That’s so impressive,” Danielle said.

“Thank you!” You smiled, she smiled.

The drinks kept coming. The two of you developed this game where every time she would tap your hand, you would buy another round. You were about to say that this was the best night of your life since your relationship, and then you froze.

“What were you about to say?” she asked, inquisitive as she had been the whole night. She looked you directly in the eye and tapped you on the hand again.

“That this was the best night I’ve had since my ex broke up with me,” you spilled out. 

“Oh, I see,” she said. A smile again. “I’m so glad.” Then she said what would change your life.

“So I’m having a great time, and would love to bring you home with me. There’s one thing, though. I think it’s so hot when men don’t orgasm. Like, around me, or ever to be honest. When I get to cum over and over again, and they don’t. How does that sound to you?”

You were a little dumbfounded, you had never heard of anything like this. You laughed a little, but realized she was serious.

“Wait, so. I mean, I can last a long time, but—I couldn’t cum? At all?”

“I wouldn’t want you to around me, no. If you really needed to, you could jack off into my toilet. But that’s the deal. I think we could have a lot of fun.”

You took a deep breath. Fuck it, you said. You went back to her place. You both stripped down, she told you what a big cock you had and she rode you like she fucking owned you. Bouncing fast, rolling slow, you had never seen such complete joy in a person’s eyes. She pressed her nails deep into your chest, your eyes rolled back and your mouth went open, slack-jawed. You have no idea how long it lasted, but you know that you didn’t cum. 

Eventually she hopped off, winded and excited. 

“That was so incredible,” she said. “Get on the floor, there’s one more thing I want to try.”

“Uh, what?” You were still a little dazed that first time. 

“Yeah, get on the floor. On your knees.” She tapped your hand again, and then suddenly you were there, on her wooden floor.

“Open your mouth. Gums only.” As you positioned yourself, she pulled out a large white vibrator and turned it on. You suddenly felt her toes in your mouth. 

“Suck.” She turned the vibrator on and the moaning began again. You tried to touch yourself, but it wasn’t really practical. Eventually she yelled loudly, sticking her foot deep into your mouth. There was a silence of ecstatic pleasure. 

“That was so amazing,” she finally said. “I had a great time. You should call a car, I need some sleep.”

And that was that. You could barely even process what happened on the way back, could barely even process the text the next morning.

“Had so much fun last night. If you’d ever want to do it again, you should buy me this. I might wear it!” You clicked the link and it was another of those designer dresses. It cost $700 and you fished out your family credit card before you could even think straight.

You sent her a screenshot of the purchase within minutes of her original text.

“Good boy,” she responded, and that’s when you finally came.

The next week was agony. You were able to channel some of the sexual tension into this new noise project you’d been working on, a box immersed in whale sounds, but you could barely get her out of your mind. You wanted to text, but didn’t dare. It just didn’t feel right. What the hell was that? What the hell did she do to me?

Finally, ten days later, she texted again on a sunny Sunday afternoon. 

“It’s so gorgeous! Would you wanna come over later and see?”

“Yeah!”

“Woo! 1 thing: I just wanna do the foot thing this time, that cool?”

“With me on my knees?”

“Soooooooo hot.”

It wasn’t what you wanted, you thought. You wanted to have sex. But seeing her again sounded like a blast. So you said yes, of course.

She was friendly, you hung out and watched some of a documentary. Then she tapped your hand and told you to get on your knees in front of her couch as she pulled out the white vibrator. She stuck her foot deep into your mouth and masturbated. You couldn’t keep yourself from getting hard this time.

You tried to start masturbating, but found that you couldn’t concentrate on the task at hand. Your body started to love it a little bit, which was the last thing she wanted. “No teeth!” she yelled out. You decided to clench your hands into fists and glue them to the ground, keeping still on all fours. It was more important to focus on her toes, after all. Gliding in and out, and shaking around your mouth. Her ankle arched, her foot became your entire world. It was a good thing you had a strong gag reflex because she was pushing deep. 

Eventually she came and after a few minutes asked you to leave. “Of course,” you said. When you got home, there was another thankful text with another link, if you wanted to see her again, which of course you did. This one was to a gold ring in the shape of a snake that cost $400, which again, you bought instantly. Again, she texted “Good boy,” and that’s when you came, again.

This became a pattern. She would text you when something you bought her arrived, you would strip naked and get on your knees, she would put her foot in your mouth and use her vibrator, and then you would leave and buy her another expensive item, from shoes to lingerie. 

You started to wonder, what am I getting out of this? Why do I keep doing this? Why was this the hottest thing you had ever experienced?

Then, that day you woke up and said you were done, she texted again.

“Hey, want to come over?”

Nothing back. You would hold strong. Ten minutes later:

“This time will be different.”

Fine. So you went over again. You stripped down naked and got on your knees. She hadn’t asked you to, but she didn’t need to at this point. It was just where you felt more comfortable.

She looked amazing towering over you, head to toe in items you had bought her. Red lipstick, a gold necklace, a see-through black camisole through which you could see strappy lingerie. And on her feet, where your eyes gravitated at this point, tall black heels. You could already see yourself sucking them.

“You’ve given me so much at this point, and it’s really great. I was thinking that, if you wanted, we could step our relationship up.”

“What do you mean, Danielle?”

“Well, you’ve gotten me so much stuff, it’s only fair I get you something.” She pulled out a pink plastic object, oddly shaped, like a pacifier gone wrong. 

“How would you feel about wearing this when I send you off? Around your penis, I mean.”

“Like, all the time?”

“Well, we could start off slow… see where it goes, but eventually, yeah.”

“Would it be uncomfortable?”

She explained the science of the device clearly and concisely. You were dazed, but able to get everything. It seemed safe, and you trusted her on that. 

This whole thing was a surprise. You expected her to tap your hand, but she did not. She clearly wanted you to make this decision on your own. You thought for a second, on your knees, and then you realized you could stop fighting. This felt right. This felt so fucking right.

“Yeah, Danielle, that sounds amazing.”

“Yes! That’s so wonderful. Terrific. Okay, so, I’m having some friends over later today, would you want to hang out until they come? I would love for you to meet them.”

“Your friends?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve wanted you to meet them for a while. But one of them only interacts with other slaves when they’re in chastity, so I was really hoping you would say yes. And now you can serve us food and drinks!” You didn’t even notice until later that she had used that word, “slave”. 

Standing high and on the ground, both of you were so happy. She pulled out the vibrator again, you unhinged your jaw.

“Oh, and when they’re over,” she said, “call me Mistress.”