Initially, Goddess Paula used my complete infatuation with her face, body, mind, and personality, but mostly my intense attraction to her perfect feet, to coerce me to perform some chores and personal services for her.  Then, as months went by, Goddess Paula incorporated chastity, cross-dressing, and corporal punishment to increase my humiliation, obedience, and subservience.  I am now at the point where I crave the rewards she might choose to bestow upon me and fear the punishments she might choose to inflict on me, to such an intense degree that my obedience to any of her commands is absolute, complete, and immediate. 

Goddess Paula is a master of psychological control.  I fear the pain that she often inflicts on my nipples, ass, and other body parts, with her effective selection of punishment instruments.  I also fear the many other methods Goddess Paula uses to reinforce my obedience.  One of the cruelest methods she uses to punish me is to simply deny me her attention. 

A couple months ago, I arrived at Goddess Paula’s home mid-morning, as instructed.  I was dressed in one of my sissy-boy street clothes outfits.  I knew she was unsatisfied with some of the labor I had performed for her on my previous visit, but I hoped she would overlook that and allow me to serve her “with a clean slate” on this visit.  As it turns out, I was wrong. 

I had just gotten out of my car, Goddess Paula opened her front door and shouted for me to stay right where I was.  Her demeanor seemed cheerful enough, so I happily stood there next to my car wondering what was happening, but confident that I would soon be serving and obeying my perfect goddess in some way.  My goddess went back into her house and closed the front door.  After standing next to my car for an hour, it was clear to me that I was being punished.  Knowing that I was required to obey and submit to Goddess Paula in all things, I did what I had to do.  I continued to stand next to my car in my goddess’s driveway. 

Early in the afternoon, after I had been standing next to my car for more than three hours, an Uber pulled up.  Goddess Paula came outside, locked her door, and climbed into the Uber.  The driver sped off with my goddess.  Late in the afternoon, another Uber dropped her off.  Again, Goddess Paula went back into her house and closed the front door.  In leaving her house, and in returning to her house, my goddess strode within three feet of me, but did not look at me, did not speak to me, and did not acknowledge my presence in any way. 

A couple hours later, it started getting dark and the external lights illuminated automatically.  Soon thereafter, my heart leapt when I saw my goddess open her front door.  After standing in her driveway for close to ten hours, I was tired and sore.  However, more than anything, I was desperate for any of Goddess Paula’s attention, no matter how small, no matter how demeaning. 

I was crushed when I heard Goddess Paula cheerfully shout that I was dismissed and that I should go home.  My goddess knew how desperately I craved her attention.  This had to be the most intense act of cruelty I have ever suffered at the hands of my goddess.  No amount of humiliation or pain my goddess has previously inflicted on me came close to the cruelty exhibited today.  I had been made to stand and wait near my car for almost ten hours with no attention of any kind from my goddess, and then told to go home. 

As I started driving home, I burst into tears.  I cried uncontrollably.  When intense, quaking sobs overtook my body, I had to pull my car over to the curb for fear of causing an accident.  I sat in my car and cried for almost an hour.  I was shocked at my reaction.  I knew that my desire for Goddess Paula was intense and extreme.  But I would not have predicted that ten hours of neglect by my goddess could reduce me to a quivering mass of sobbing and tears.  My reaction actually scared me a bit regarding what it indicated about the depth of my devotion and attachment to Goddess Paula. 

About a month later, I was serving Goddess Paula at her house.  It was my sixth time serving as Goddess Paula’s slave, since the day she had made me stand in her driveway.  By this time, things were back to normal, and I was having a very good day serving my goddess.  I recall that she had beaten my ass bright red with her paddles, and striped it deeply with her canes.  I had completed hours of tedious housework.  She had ordered me to lick a dozen pairs of her shoes clean.  And she allowed me several wonderful sessions of orally worshiping her glorious feet.  While it was a difficult day, it was the kind of day that had me feeling a sort of internal erotic bliss. 

It was getting on towards dinnertime and my goddess called in a take-out order.  She ordered me to go fetch it and I headed towards the bedroom to change out of my slut dress and heels and put on one of my sissy-boy outfits. 

But, Goddess Paula stopped me in my tracks by angrily growling, “Where do you think you’re going?  I ordered you to go pick up dinner.  Now, GO!!!”

I was so shocked that I guess I kind of froze in my tracks.  Surely, my goddess didn’t expect me to pick up chicken dinners as an obvious cross-dresser.  She had never ordered me to do anything like that before.  As I stood there, frozen like a deer in headlights, Goddess Paula’s anger blossomed, and she screamed for me to forget it and just go home.  I think my response surprised both of us.  I didn’t beg forgiveness on my way out the door to the chicken stand.  I didn’t apologize and go home.  I crumbed.  I melted down.  I dropped to my knees.  I grabbed Goddess Paula’s calves tightly.  I burst into tears.  I blubbered and sobbed. 

I begged, almost incoherently, “Goddess Paula, no!  Goddess Paula, I can take anything, but not this.  Please, hurt me more.  Please, humiliate me more.  Please make me do things no one would do.  Anything!  Anything!  Anything!  But, please, please, please, please, don’t send me away.  I can’t take it.  I can’t.  I can’t.  I just can’t!  Don’t you understand, Goddess Paula?  I need you!  I crave you!  I can’t live without you.  I can endure any punishment, any punishment, except being sent away from you, except being deprived of you.  Please, promise you won’t.”

I went on and on.  And, as I begged, I cried, sobbed, and blubbered.  Goddess Paula hadn’t seen me break down like this.  So, at first, she was uncertain how to handle it.  And I was uncertain how this would go, how it would end.  Then I looked up through tear-blurred eyes, detected a degree of sympathy on the face of my goddess, and saw her tap the sofa next to her.  I rose, sat next to her, and put my arms around her.  Amazing to both of us, my crying did not abate.  It intensified.  It took a few moments for us both to recognize that my current crying was a sign of relief. 

As we began to talk, Goddess Paula firmly and me shakily, I was reminded what a sweet and sympathetic woman she is.  She patted my head and told me that I had been such a good slave.  She told me that I could, of course, request one type of punishment that I did not want her to inflict on me.  If I didn’t want her to ignore me, to deprive me of her attention, then she would not.  She asked me if that sounded OK.  Through my tears, I blubbered that it was OK, that it was wonderful, that it was perfect. 

My goddess continued talking, telling me that she had grown more and more sadistic as she dominated me more and more completely.  She told me that she was actually quite pleased that she had broken me by depriving me of her attention. 

Goddess Paula continued, “I have broken you, haven’t I, sissy Michelle?”

Staring at the floor, I wordlessly nodded my head up and down. 

Lost in her own thoughts, Goddess Paula continued, “While I don’t want to deprive you in an unacceptably cruel manner, I certainly don’t want to deprive myself of the enjoyment I derive from disciplining my slave.  So, if I stop ignoring you as a form of discipline, I guess I’ll have to come up with some other methods of using you, methods more extreme than I’ve used in the past. “ 

Smiling at me, Goddess Paula purred, “Now, that sounds fair, doesn’t it?” 

Uncertain of what I was signing up for, I mumbled, “Sure.  I guess so, Goddess Paula.” 

My goddess brightened and said, “Tonight is a perfect example.  You didn’t expect me to send you out in public in your slut dress and heels.  You didn’t expect that degree of humiliation.  But now that you know it’s what I require of you, you’ll do that for me, won’t you, Baby?  And I’ve been reading about things.  I’ve read that some dominant women never pee in toilets.  All their pee goes straight into their slave’s mouth.  And long-term bondage.  I can hog-tie you or hang you by your wrists, and leave you for eight or ten hours, or overnight.  You could sleep here, tied up in my closet.  Though I don’t think you’ll be able to get much sleep.”

Finally, Goddess Paula looked over at me and burst out laughing.  Not that my goddess gave me a chance to comment, and not that I even knew what to say, but she had shocked me into a dumbfounded silence.  I think I was sitting there with my jaw hanging open.  That’s probably what elicited her laughter. 

She continued, “Yes.  Yes.  That’s the solution.  I won’t punish you by ignoring you or sending you away.  But, in exchange, you will go out in public wherever I bring you or send you dressed however I say.  In addition, starting right this moment, you will drink all my pee.  And, lastly, I can and will tie you up and leave you however I wish for as long as I wish.  Isn’t that the perfect arrangement, Baby?  Deal?”

Still somewhat dumfounded, I started to formulate a speech about how I might not be able to do some of that, and how it might not be practical, but as I started to articulate these problems, Goddess Paula’s countenance began to darken, and an angry glare formed on her lovely face. 

Knowing what I had to do, I stopped my arguments and replied, “Yes, Goddess Paula.  That’s a wonderful arrangement.  I’m so grateful to you for offering it to me.” 

Paula’s face lit up, making me momentarily forget all that I had just agreed to.  I felt extremely happy to have pleased her. 

Then, Paula brightly chirped, “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s put some of it into practice.”

She stood, lowered her panties, snapped her fingers, and pointed down at her pussy.  Never having drunk a woman’s pee before, I was a little uncertain, but figured that I had to kneel before her, seal my lips around the edges of her pussy, and wait.  So, that’s what I did.  Before long, I felt her pee begin to flow and I began to swallow.  I kept this up until the flow dissipated a minute later. 

My goddess smiled down at me and said, “Lick.”

I licked up the remaining drops of pee clinging in and around her pussy.  While I wouldn’t say that I loved the taste of her pee, it did not taste all that terrible, and I was happy to have pleased her in this wonderfully degrading manner.  I was pleased with myself and my situation. 

Then, with an evil grin on her gorgeous lips, Goddess Paula said, “Let’s get back to the subject of that take-out chicken.  Fetch!” 

While I was terrified at the thought of leaving the house and going to the popular take-out joint in my slut dress and six-inch heels, I certainly did not want to risk being permanently kicked to the curb by my goddess.  So, I went and picked up the chicken, suffering more verbal humiliation than I could imagine in the process.  When I returned, we had a nice meal with Goddess Paula sitting at the table as I served her and me crawling around on my hands and knees to eat the scraps that my goddess had thrown down onto the kitchen floor for me. 

After I cleared the dinner table and washed the dishes and utensils, Goddess Paula put me through my usual series of domestic chores as personal services.  It was getting late, and I figured that my goddess would soon send me home.  Instead, she looked at me with an evil grin. 

Goddess Michelle pleasantly said, “Great news, sissy michelle.  You get to spend the night.  Strip naked and follow me.” 

I crawled behind her to her garage where she ordered me to lay flat on my belly, my goddess tied my wrists together behind my back.  She tied my ankles together.  Then, she lifted my feet and bent my legs back at the knees until my bound ankles contacted my bound wrists.  She tied my ankles to my wrists.  In this position, I was trapped on my belly with my hands and feet bound behind me.  I was unable to move. 

Goddess Paula was not yet satisfied.  She tied one end of a rope to an overhead beam and the other end to my bound wrists and ankles.  This fully assured that I was trapped on my belly and unable to move.  In addition, my goddess put some tension on the rope.  This pulled upward on my bound wrists and ankles, increasing my discomfort.  My goddess took mercy on me by shoving her toes in my mouth and ordering me to suck her toes.  Joyfully, I obeyed, sucking her luscious toes, and squirming my tongue between her toes.  After allowing me to suck her toes for about twenty minutes, she turned and strode towards the door. 

When she was at the door, she looked over her should at me and cooed, “Good night, sissy michelle.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

See turned off the light, stepped out the door, and closed it behind her.  The night was spent keeping waves of panic under control.  Fearful of the pain of my body flexed back for an entire night, I started to strategize a plan to minimize the pain, but quickly concluded that there was nothing I could do.  With my wrists and ankles tied together behind me and a rope stretching my bound wrists and ankles towards a beam in the ceiling, just about all I could do was shake my head around and wiggle my fingers and toes. 

I tried to doze, mostly unsuccessfully.  Not that I had any way to know what time it was, bound in the dark as I was, I’m fairly certain that I slept no more than five or ten times, and for no more than ten minutes at a time.  Consequently, when daylight began to filter into the garage, I was exhausted and moaning in pain. 

About an hour after I began to sense daylight, Goddess Paula strolled casually into the garage.  She was wearing a bikini that showed off every beautiful curve of her luscious body.  She looked so hot, that I was momentarily distracted from my pain and exhaustion.  She stopped with her bare feet inches in front of my face.  The beauty of her feet displaying a perfect pedicure almost made me cry. 

Goddess Paula teased me, asking how I slept and whether I was sore and tired.  I moaned that I was.  My goddess clucked her tongue and commented that I’d better suck it up because she had some serious work for me.  Despite my trepidation of having to do hard work in my current state, relief flooded me as I was untied. 

After flexing all my strained joints, I made my way to my hands and knees.  My goddess snapped her fingers.  When I looked up, she crooked her finger, and I crawled naked behind her from the garage into her private backyard.  The first thing I noticed was her chaise lounge with a fluffy towel draped over it and a cold pitcher of iced tea on the adjacent table.  I noticed that her most brutally painful cane was leaning against the table. 

Goddess Paula pointed to a dog bowl on the ground nearby and ordered me to drink.  My goddess then ordered me to my feet and led me to a back corner of her yard.  From there, she pointed to a large pile of big rocks across the yard. 

Goddess Paula grinned and said, “You are to carry those rocks to this spot where we are standing.  I want this done quickly.  So, you are not to rest, and you are not to walk.  You are to run.  Run with each rock and run faster as you return for another rock.  Do you understand, slave?”

I tried not to show my fear at the size of the rocks or the size of the pile, I immediately replied, “Yes, Goddess Paula.” 

Goddess Paula, looking slightly perturbed, growled, “Then what are you waiting for!”

Goddess Paula slapped me hard on the ass to get me going and I ran to the rock pile.  I picked up the first rock.  It was rough and dirty against my naked flesh, but I knew I had to run across the yard with it.  Due to the weight of the rock, it wasn’t much of a run, but more of a pathetic jog.  As I carried the first few rocks, I noticed that Goddess Paula was relaxing in her chaise lounge and sipping iced tea.  I continued my task.  By the time I had moved all the rocks, I was staggering with fatigue.  I proudly staggered over to Goddess Paula and told her that I was done. 

With a beautiful, but cruel, grin, my goddess asked what I was talking about.  She said that she liked the rocks where they were and casually told me to put them back.  I almost started crying from the fatigue I was feeling and the additional fatigue I was going to endure.  Goddess Paula kindly allowed me to kneel and slurp some more water from my dog bowl.  Then she ordered me to put the rocks back where they belong.  As I started, I felt dizzy and had my doubts about whether I was capable of completing the task.  I really wasn’t moving very fast and feared that my goddess might take issue with this.  But she did not.  I think she was aware that she was pushing me to the limit of my physical endurance. 

 When I finally staggered to her and again announced that I had finished, I was fearful that she would make me move the rock pile again.  But she did not.  She turned on the garden hose and hosed down my sweaty and filthy body.  She left me standing at attention to air dry as she again relaxed on her chaise lounge.  Eventually, she stood, removed her bikini bottom, snapped her fingers and pointed at her pussy.  I knelt before her and sealed my lips around her pussy so she could pee in my mouth.  I was so exhausted and dehydrated that her pee was actually a reward.  After I licked her pussy clean, she replaced her bikini bottom and returned to her chaise lounge. 

After a little while, she glanced over at me and said, “Feet, slave.” 

I happily crawled to her and started licking her feet and sucking her toes.  I thought she would allow me this reward for a few minutes.  But she allowed me to kneel before her and worship her feet for what felt like an hour.  I was ecstatic. 

Eventually, she glanced at me and casually said, “Get dressed and go home, slave.”

I replied, “Yes, Goddess Paula.  Thank you, Goddess Paula,” and ran towards the house. 

As I drove home in my sissy-boy street clothes, I felt joyful that I had pleased my goddess with my submissive acceptance of her abuse and exhausting labor after a night of painful sleep deprivation, and earned the reward of an hour of licking her perfect feet and sucking her luscious toes.  I recognized that every act of abuse made me love and crave my goddess all the more.