Dice Tasks
by az2k
Copyright© 2026 by az2k
BDSM Sex Story: Every lunch hour, a roll of the dice assigns Lin Wan a small task — and turns obedience into a game she can't wait to play.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction BDSM DomSub MaleDom AI Generated .
Born on a Wednesday. Lunchtime.
Lin Wan’d just finished eating and was slumped at her desk losing the fight with post-lunch drowsiness when a dice emoji tumbled across her screen and settled.
“One roll every day at noon from now on,” Zhou Yang said. “Whatever lands, you do. Give our boring lunch breaks some spark.”
“Options?” The sleepiness vanished. She sat up.
“One: half a glass of water, photo proof. Two: compliment your Master — heartfelt, no phoning it in, or you start over. Three: ten squats. Four: no crossed legs for an hour. Five: photo of your stockinged tiptoes. Six: a pardon.” He laid them out. “Noon sharp. No skipping.”
“Yes, Master! Ready!” Cracking-knuckles sticker.
Day one: four.
“Four. No crossed legs, one hour. Starting now.”
“Oh no, I was just about to cross them.” She uncrossed fast, sat up prim, knees together. Photo sent. “Like this? Posture okay?”
“Perfect. Hold it. Report in an hour.”
An hour of sitting like a schoolgirl. Her back ached. She LIVED crossed-legged — right over left, most comfortable thing in the world. Now: feet flat. Calves went numb. Coworker walked by: “Why so straight today? Back hurt?” Her: “Working on posture. Supposedly good for you.” In her head: twenty-three minutes. Ten. Three...
One o’clock on the dot: “Done! Full hour! Legs are numb — requesting a rub and praise.”
“Rub them yourself three times. Counts as me.” Then: “Good, day one. Same time tomorrow. Roll a six and there’s a pardon — but your luck’s always been terrible, so.”
“Mean!” She typed it smiling, rubbing her legs, already waiting for tomorrow.
Day two: two. Compliment your Master. She typed and deleted for ages. Finally: “Master was very gentle today too. Your pup likes that a lot.”
“Heartfelt?” he said. “Sounds phoned in. Start over.”
“It counts!” Panic. Quick add: “Your pup remembers every rule. Even your punishments are fair — you never just lose your temper. She feels safe. She really likes you. Truly.”
“That one’s good. Keeping it.” Then: “Going in the notebook.”
She stared at “going in the notebook” grinning until her face hurt.
Day three: five. Tiptoe photo. She waited till nobody was looking, ducked under the desk, slipped her shoes off. Stockinged feet on the carpet, toes curling, nylon stretched sheer over the tips. Hunted for the angle, took a bunch, picked the prettiest. Face burning, fingers shaky: “Master. Tiptoe photo. Please accept.”
“Very good. Lovely line.” Then: “Reward: you’re allowed to cross your legs this afternoon. Special permission.”
She read it three times, hugged her phone, heart thudding. That afternoon she crossed her legs with a clear conscience and decided it was the finest reward in the world.
Day four: six. Finally.
“PARDON!!” Three cheering stickers. “Finally rolled it!”
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