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jessykapower posted an update
363 PointsThe crisp evening air bit at his skin as the finsub stood on the doorstep, clutching the envelope that contained what he believed was his ultimate tribute. He had spent weeks searching online, scouring forums and social media for the perfect Mistress—someone who would not only dominate him but also take control of his finances. The moment he had stumbled upon Mistress Vivienne’s profile, he knew he had found her. Her pictures exuded power, her words were sharp as a blade, and her unapologetic lifestyle demanded reverence.
Tonight was the night. A cash meet had been arranged: $1,000 to be placed at her feet as his first offering, the beginning of what he hoped would be a life of servitude. Heart pounding, he rang the doorbell.
The door opened, and there she stood. Mistress Vivienne was even more stunning in person. Her piercing eyes bore into his soul, and her commanding presence filled the doorway. She wore a sleek black dress that hugged her curves, her stiletto heels glinting under the porch light. Behind her, he could glimpse the luxurious interior of her home, a testament to the wealth and power she had built for herself.
He knelt immediately, as instructed, and placed the envelope at her feet. But instead of the crisp stack of $1,000, the envelope contained only $500.
Mistress Vivienne’s gaze sharpened as she picked up the envelope. She opened it and thumbed through the bills. Her lips curled into a faint smirk, though her eyes remained icy. “What’s this?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. “I said $1,000.”
The finsub’s face flushed with embarrassment. He kept his eyes to the ground, unable to meet her gaze. “But Mistress,” he stammered, “I’m just a truck driver. I don’t make a lot of money… This is all I could afford right now.”
Mistress Vivienne tapped her stiletto heel against the marble floor, the sound echoing like a clock ticking down his fate. “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully, her tone betraying neither anger nor amusement. “Come on in.”
He hesitated, unsure of what awaited him, but the pull of her authority was irresistible. He crawled inside as she stepped back, closing the door behind him.
“Crawl to me,” she commanded, walking ahead into the living room. He obeyed, following her to where a man sat on an opulent leather sofa. The man—tall, broad-shouldered, and exuding confidence—was casually sipping a glass of red wine. Mistress Vivienne took a seat beside him, crossing her legs elegantly. She gestured for the finsub to remain on his knees in front of them.
“This is my lover, Alexander,” she said. “You will address him as Sir.”
The finsub bowed his head. “Yes, Mistress. Yes, Sir.”
Mistress Vivienne leaned forward, her gaze locking onto the finsub. “Now, you will explain your entire financial situation. Every detail. Leave nothing out.”
He hesitated for a moment but knew better than to disobey. He began to speak, his voice shaky at first but growing steadier as he laid bare his financial reality. “I make $2,000 a month driving trucks. After rent and bills, I… I barely have anything left. That’s why I could only bring $500 tonight. I… I wanted to give more, but I just couldn’t.”
Mistress Vivienne listened intently, her expression unreadable. Alexander watched silently, swirling his wine in his glass. When the finsub finished, Mistress Vivienne leaned back, tapping her manicured nails against the armrest.
“So,” she said slowly, “you make $2,000 a month. Hmm. Rent, bills… such mundane expenses. It’s clear to me that you’re not living your life to its fullest potential. That changes now.”
The finsub looked up, confused. “Mistress?”
She smiled, but it was not a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who held all the cards. “This is what we’re going to do. You will move in with us. You will live in the basement. It’s small, but it’s enough for someone like you. I will charge you $2,000 a month to live there. That means every penny you make will go directly to me.”
His heart raced. The enormity of what she was saying began to sink in. “But… Mistress…”
She held up a hand, silencing him. “This will be your new life and your new way to tribute. You will become our financial cuckold, entirely dependent on our mercy. You will serve us, and in return, you will have the privilege of being in my presence. This is not up for debate.”
Alexander finally spoke, his voice deep and commanding. “You will start in six months. That gives you time to prepare. Save what little you can, settle your affairs, and plan for your new life. When you return, you will belong to us completely.”
Mistress Vivienne nodded in agreement. “Go home,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “And start planning. From now on, your life is mine to control.”
The finsub swallowed hard, his mind swirling with a mix of fear and exhilaration. He had come here seeking to serve, and now he had been given a purpose—one that would consume him entirely. He bowed deeply, pressing his forehead to the floor. “Yes, Mistress. Yes, Sir.”
Mistress Vivienne stood, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked him to the door. She opened it and gestured for him to leave. “Goodnight, pet,” she said with a faint smile. “I expect you to be ready when the time comes.”
As the door closed behind him, the finsub stood on the porch, clutching the empty envelope. The crisp evening air bit at his skin once more, but this time, it felt different. He was no longer just a truck driver trying to scrape by. He was a man with a purpose, a man who belonged to Mistress Vivienne.
And in six months, he would begin his new life.
