you leave the settings on maximum the make several stops around the city stocking up on snacks and buying every video game you can get you hands on and buying consoles for them all on getting all the accessories all the while making sure that Tina states in the driver seat before arriving back at the mansion for supper
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You tap your wristband, ensuring the stimulation device in Tina's driver seat remains at maximum intensity. Her punk aesthetic has become delightfully disheveled – blue-streaked blonde hair clinging to her sweat-dampened forehead, dark makeup smudged across her flushed cheeks.
"Next stop, GameVerse," you command as Melissa meticulously updates her tablet with your growing collection of purchases.
Tina's voice comes out as a strained whimper. "Y-yes, Mistress." Her hands grip the steering wheel with white knuckles as another orgasm ripples through her body, yet the SUV's movement remains supernaturally smooth – a testament to the super focus enhancement you installed in all your drivers.
"That's her twelfth one this hour," Melissa whispers, crossing her legs tightly beneath her pencil skirt. "Her transformation truly is remarkable."
At GameVerse, you stride through the entrance, your seven-and-a-half-foot frame commanding immediate attention. The store manager, a lanky young man named Trevor Brooks, nearly drops his tablet when you approach.
"I want everything," you announce without preamble. "Every console, every game, every accessory."
Trevor's eyes widen. "Everything... ma'am?"
"Everything," you confirm. "Load it into our vehicle. My secretary will handle payment."
Melissa steps forward with corporate cards ready while you return to the SUV. Through the window, you can see Tina writhing in her seat, her uniform skirt hiked up around her waist, yet her eyes remain focused on the road ahead – ready to drive at a moment's notice.
"How are you holding up?" you ask, opening the driver's side door.
"F-fuck... so good, Mistress," she pants, her fishnets soaked through. "Need more... please..."
You smile, adjusting the intensity pattern to a pulsating rhythm. "Keep the engine running. We have more stops."
Throughout the afternoon, you visit seven more stores. At Snack Warehouse, you purchase enough premium treats to stock a small convenience store. At Electronics Empire, you add home theater equipment and gaming monitors. At Luxury Liquids, you select non-alcoholic specialty beverages for game nights.
At each stop, you insist Tina remain in the driver's seat, the stimulation device working relentlessly between her thighs. The SUV's spacious cargo area fills rapidly with your purchases while Tina's sanity empties just as quickly, her mind reduced to a pleasure-soaked haze.
"Please, Mistress," she begs after your sixth stop, mascara streaking down her cheeks, "I can't... I can't think anymore."
"You don't need to think," you remind her, stroking her damp hair. "Just drive."
By your final stop at Collector's Paradise, Tina has reached a transcendent state. Her eyes have glazed over, her responses reduced to monosyllabic whimpers, yet her driving remains flawless – perfectly maintaining speed limits, using turn signals with precision, and taking corners with professional smoothness.
Melissa leans forward from the backseat. "Mistress, according to my calculations, we've spent $87,432 today on entertainment supplies. The mansion's game room will need expansion beyond Vivienne's current parameters."
"Cortana can handle that," you reply, watching Tina's body convulse with yet another orgasm. "What's impressive is that our little punk driver hasn't crashed despite having approximately thirty-eight orgasms today."
Tina makes an unintelligible noise that might be agreement or simply pleasure.
As the sun begins to set, you finally direct Tina back toward the mansion. The SUV moves smoothly through traffic despite being packed with electronics, games, and gourmet snacks. Tina's uniform is completely disheveled, her fishnets torn, her punk makeup merely smudges across her face, yet her hands on the wheel never waver.
"We'll be just in time for supper," Melissa observes, checking her tablet. "The elven chefs have prepared a feast tonight."
You smile, watching Tina's trembling form. "And I think we've prepared quite the entertainment for after dinner."
As the mansion gates come into view, Tina manages to form her first coherent sentence in hours. "Th-thank you, Mistress... for the best fucking day... ever."