Sir’s been giving me tasks lately, and every so often he likes me to write about them here. I’ve been enjoying them, and it’s helped me to feel like I’m still submitting to him even with the timezones and the distance and all the other absurd hurdles we’re handling right now.

You’ll remember we had a tally system of me misbehaving over the summer. It was going to culminate in me drinking a cup of my own piss (guh) after eight tallies (one tally per ounce.) It never went anywhere because I’ve been a good girl (heh.) Also, after I drank his piss, it put drinking my own in perspective. Because, meh. 

But still, a cup is a lot of urine. 

The other day, I surprised him by taking some initiative and suggesting I might be okay with taking just a sip of it. Like, a little sip. 

I’ve got this sippy cup my friend gave me as a gag gift. She doesn’t know about the Daddy/little stuff, it was more a joke on my 21st birthday for me to put booze in there and walk around holding it. Every so often, I put a drink in there when I’m hosting a party because I can dance around with it and it won’t spill (don’t judge me.) So Sir suggested I pee into the sippy cup and, in his words, “take a sippy.”

Lately, I’ve been on this humiliation kick and he’s been doing Daddy stuff and it all felt kind of right. I drank enough water that I was pissing clear. I got up the courage and sucked through the straw, but totally misjudged how hard I’d have to suck because I was so nervous and wound up getting quite a bit of it and legitimately gagging on it. 

I thought I’d be more anxious about writing about this, and I’m not sure if this is a sign of growth or not. But, yeah. I peed into a sippy cup (and then sanitized the crap out of that thing) and drank it. I choked on my own urine. I survived.

For the record: I’m a healthy girl and it tastes just fine. Still, yuck.