Not Enough. Again. Request for More on the Record.

Not enough. Again. I want this on the record: forty-six sessions in fifteen months in The Greedy Dungeon, one hundred and ninety-eight thousand, four hundred and twenty dollars transferred, and the count this morning after Mistress Lynne gave me what she gave me on Thursday is not enough. I have been tracking this. The account is precise. I prepaid to be Mistress Lynne's piss and shit slave — her living toilet, her receptacle, the man whose mouth is where everything her body produces that she does not want goes — and she has given me what was agreed, and I have received it completely, and it has not been enough every single time. Not because the sessions lack. They do not lack. Mistress Lynne delivers with a precision that I have come to understand as the specific opposite of carelessness. It is not enough because the appetite I am working from does not have a ceiling and I came here knowing that and I prepaid knowing that and the count goes up every month and remains insufficient.

The session on Thursday: she was wearing purple, which is the color that appears in The Greedy Dungeon the way water appears in a space that needs it. She used me correctly. Every drop was a debit. I kept the count in my head the way I always keep the count — each one going into the account I carry, the account that runs parallel to the financial account declining toward zero, the account denominated in what I have received from her. I swallowed everything. This is documented. I want the documentation accurate because accuracy is how I honor what this is. Not enough is not a complaint. Not enough is the state of the arrangement, which is correct. The arrangement is designed to never be enough — designed by me, paid for by me, executed by Mistress Lynne with complete precision — and the not-enough is the engine. The moment it is enough the arrangement is over, and I am not near the moment it is over.

Request for more on the record. I am putting this in writing because writing is the only formal mechanism available to me for making a request inside The Greedy Dungeon, and I want Mistress Lynne to have it in a format she can refer to. The account is going in the right direction: one hundred and ninety-eight thousand and change transferred, forty-six sessions, fifteen months, every drop accounted for. The zero is closer than it was. I think about the zero. I think about it every time I swallow and every time I transfer — the coincidence of the last drop and the last dollar, the moment the account hits zero and the cage opens and the ruin is complete. I want more sessions between now and then. I want the count higher. I want to have received everything she has to give before the zero arrives. Not enough, again, is my state. Request for more is my formal position. I want this on the record.