Daily Picture Assignment #41 While I haven’t been keeping up with these pictures as well a

Daily Picture Assignment #41 While I haven’t been keeping up with these pictures as well as I should be, I have been very good about something else. In another DPA I decided to change my workplace pissing habits. Previously I didn’t have to ask Reaction Junkie for permission to pee while at work. Now I do. Each time I need to piss, I have to text him to ask, “May I please pee?” For practicality’s sake, if he doesn’t respond to my text within half an hour, I’m allowed to go, but there’s still a challenge there. I don’t want to ask permission before I actually really do need to pee. That defeats the purpose. But I also need to ask early enough that if he doesn’t respond, I can wait the half hour. It’s a delightful balancing act that leaves me desperate, wiggling, shifting uncomfortably, and trying to distract myself so I can hold it for the next five, ten, or twenty minutes. Sometimes he responds unexpectedly fast. In those cases, I try to finish however much water I have left in my huge one litre Camelbak and wait until the need to pee is more urgent before I get up and head to the bathroom, to sort of make up for the fact that I got permission earlier than absolutely necessary. When I told Reaction Junkie about that, he said, “Good girl,” and it made my pussy twitch. I’m not sure I’ve been doing it every single time he’s responded more quickly than I thought he would, but I’m certainly going to do so now. Of course, he doesn’t always just say “Yes” when I ask if I may pee. As Reaction Junkie said to me, if he said yes every time, “it would become perfunctory." Sometimes he tells me "No,” but more often he tells me at what time I’m allowed to piss. Late last week, for example, I texted him at 12:11 asking for permission. A minute later he texted back, “1230, slut.” I gasped and moaned a little at my desk, even more turned on than usual by the addition of degradation and name calling to the bladder control and desperation.Sometimes when he gives me a time at which I’m allowed to go, he also offers me an alternative, some task to perform or action to take. If I choose to do it (If he’s given me a choice. Once in a while it’s a condition of being allowed to pee, no other option.), I’m may piss as soon as I’ve done so. Occasionally it’s something terribly embarrassing, like asking my boss for permission to go to the bathroom. Once I had to do 25 squats while pressing on my bladder. More recently, he’s started using his control over my bladder to get me to do things he wants me to do or that I need to do, such as text a friend to set up a time to hang out, or send an email I’ve been putting off. When he denies my request, makes me wait until later, calls me names, or makes me beg, my cunt clenches and my head buzzes a little with subspacey delight. Using his control over me to make me do things I’ve been procrastinating on or I’m hesitant to do in order to earn the right to piss is a perfect way for him to reinforce his orders. It helps me learn my place and teaches me to do as he says, even at other times, as I become conditioned to obey him. I love that we’re doing this additional bladder control and desperation. As I go about my day, I’m mindful of the fact that I have to ask him if I may piss. Because of this, I have to actively think about my place in our relationship whenever I need to use the bathroom, whenever I drink my water, whenever I refill the bottle, whenever I go into a meeting. It’s a constant reminder that he has such ownership and control over me that even my most basic bodily functions are subject to his will. It’s impossible to forget that, even for a moment. Reaction Junkie owns me, I have submitted to him, and I have given up power over myself to him. He has complete control over me everywhere, even at work. This was all true before, but now I am consciously aware of it throughout the entire workday. -- source link

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