I had been viewing Miss Courtney’s Twitter account and website for several months. I had even sent a couple of tentative emails to which she had replied courteously and professionally. Through my own uncertainness, I had not followed up on these approaches. The notion of serving her had, however, not gone away.
Then upon perusing her tweets last week, I came upon a clip she had posted. Looking both regal and relaxed, Miss Courtney stared into camera from the comfort of her car and explained how she had a subbie just fetching drinks and that she planned to both spit and flick ash into her adoring worshippers coffee.
This image swirled in my mind. I was metaphorically on my knees in eagerness to recreate this delightful scenario with this enchanting and clearly very controlling lady.
As luck would have it , that very day found me on a rare excursion to the North West of England. Not too distant from Manchester/Stockport, the epicentre of Miss Courtney’s empire.
I summoned courage to send off an email immediately. Miss Courtney referred back to my previous uncertainty but graciously agreed to meet for drinks with added ingredients planned for my own refreshment, courtesy of her mouth and cigarette. I give thanks for her kindness and forgiveness. Blessed mercy of the Goddess as things turned out.
Miss Courtney specified her preferred pub and I made my way there in a state of excitement and trepidation made worse by public transport issues . I arrived just in time but even more lacking in confidence than I may have hoped.
10 minutes later, with drinks ready at an outside table , I saw a glorious vision emerge from a noble vehicle. There could be no doubt. Reckoning had arrived.
I feel she had gauged my nervousness in an instant. She reassured me with a hug and huge smile. An instantly engaging manner and intelligence combined with an enquiring mind and politeness. All while casually flicking her ash into my beer. Oh well, only a few punters in the pub happened to look upon us….
She lifted my beer as if for a taste. A thick wad of spit gently descended from lips that could have commanded me to anything at that point. My drink was receiving some extra flavouring for certain.
During our chat, I hesitantly mentioned my fascination for serving as a human urinal for true and supreme dominant women. Miss Courtney asked what time I had to be headed back to London. After gauging that this cat had ample time to toy with her mouse, we were walking to her car and headed towards the Stockport dungeon, regular premises that Miss Courtney uses for professional sessions.
I was shortly led into one of the best equipped dungeons I have ever encountered. I descended almost instinctively to my knees and Miss Courtney had me crawl at her heels into the main room. I gazed upon an object of reverie and wonder; a custom-made toilet box, beautifully padded for the comfort of the supreme Lady. More like a throne than an object for a necessary function. It had a hole in the front for a suitable underlings head to be secured . And wrist restraints on each side….
Feeling it wise not to resist (!), I was soon locked in place . The option of avoiding degradation was non-existent , especially when Miss Courtney lifted the seat, gazed down and tantalizingly waved an oversized funnel at me.
I was left to contemplate the extraordinary sequence of events that had come to pass. Meanwhile , Miss Courtney retired to chat to her friend, Princess Lucina. And also to enjoy some liquid refreshment….
Time passed. A million thoughts pass through the mind. Then the door opens and a beautiful smiling face stares down. This is a Lady well used to manipulating males for her amusement and gratification. It seems so natural.
She placed the funnel between my trembling lips . The light soon rapidly diminished. With words of encouragement from the Sacred Female above , my mouth soon filled with the fluids her body no longer required. Perfect harmony ensued between her release and my frantic swallowing . I felt privileged , only thinking of her increased comfort as her body performed its natural duty. It instantly felt like my natural duty likewise.
I was left to recover and Miss Courtney returned to her social activities next door. I felt happiness bordering on Zen-like calm . My duties were not done . 3 further occasions, Miss Courtney returned . Each time, as if knowing instinctively that my capabilities in my task were improving, the rapidity and force of her deluge increased. I felt as if she was nurturing me, spurring me onwards. A gently spoken ‘good boy’ working wonders.
The final downpour was certainly a wonder . My Adams apple bobbing up and down in perfect harmony with her release . The world made whole and perfect and the most glorious Female put the male to use in such an appropriate fashion.
I was released and Miss Courtney was as courteous and engaging as upon the very beginning of our encounter. I however , was a changed submissive.
I feel I would give everything to Miss Courtney. All testimonies I have read from her slaves ring true. I am so happy to add further credence to what other fontunates have already stated. Beyond parallel. Supreme Deity . I feel the path I must tread. Submission to Miss Courtney’s supreme power. It is for her to decide what she wishes of me.
London slave
Mistress Courtney's Blog 