#pissplay

just had new carpet put down in my bedroom.there was lots of spare, so i’m putting that on top of the real carpet, with towels underneath, and i’m gonna piss my pants all over it. mmm. ;3

[10.24.2014]

“Drink five of those in the next ten minutes.” When Reaction Junkie pointed at my cup and ordered me to start having lots of water, I smiled. We were at the house party he was hosting for a bunch of kinky friends. I’d had a rough week, so I appreciated what I thought was Reaction Junkie engaging in the regular (and always enjoyable) bladder control and desperation that is part of our dynamic. I drank the water, and not long after, I felt the pressure building in my abdomen. I sat on the ground, and began rocking back and forth a little, attempting to distract myself from the feeling.

Reaction Junkie noticed my distress and started teasing me, “What’s wrong? Do you need to peeee?” I was a little embarrassed he was doing this in front of the party, even though I knew most of the people there fairly well. I pouted at him and said that of course I had to pee. He laughed, refused my request, and continued the teasing. At one point, he ordered me, “Go get a towel and one of your favorite shirts.” When I heard that, I realized this might not just be the normal bladder play I thought it was; he had something special in mind.

“Is he going to make me piss myself on the floor, in front of everyone?”, I thought. “No. He wouldn’t do that. Would he? Nah. It’d be too much of a mess. Right?” I refused his order to fetch the towel and shirt. Reaction Junkie gave me a look, and I managed to refuse again, but my will was weakening. He walked over to me, and I flinched, expecting to be hit for my disobedience. Instead, he started stepping on me, pressing down on my bladder. I was happy that he’d dropped the idea of making me get the towel and favorite shirt. Until he put more of his weight onto me, compressing my bladder further. I pleaded with him, “Please stop! I’m going to pee.”

Taking his foot off me, Reaction Junkie said, “Go sit on the toilet.” I was relieved for a moment until he added, “But don’t pee.” I whined, but got up and headed to the bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and waited. Reaction Junkie came in after a moment and told me I’d better not piss. I nodded and said, “I’m not.” He went back into the living room and I tried to distract myself from the need to pee. I was determined to be a good girl for him, especially since he’d left the bathroom door open, so if I started to pee, everyone would be able to hear.

When Reaction Junkie returned a minute later and saw me rocking back and forth, focusing on not pissing, he grinned, amused by my distress. “Do you think we should invite other people to come see?” he asked. My eyes opened wide in horror, and I shook my head and said, “No!” He smirked at me and said, “Don’t pretend like you don’t want this.” Turning towards the open door, he called out, “Who wants to see [LFB] piss herself?” I felt my face growing hot as a group of people gathered around the door. A few I knew fairly well, like The Unknown Quantity, Anderson Cooper, and Cute Thing (one of Reaction Junkie’s other partners). Two others, I didn’t know at all. And one of them, Pretty Girl, was a lovely woman who bought me a drink a couple happy hours ago, and who I’m shyly interested in.

As the group of partners, friends, and acquaintances looked on, Reaction Junkie began pressing on me, cruelly compressing my full bladder, all the while telling me not to piss and making comments to the crowd. I held strong, but it was increasingly difficult. All of a sudden, he punched my abdomen. It wasn’t the hardest I’ve been punched, but neither was it gentle. I managed not to piss, but only just. I looked up at him, pleading with my eyes and my words. He reassured the crowd that even though it seemed like he was being mean to me, he was actually fulfilling a fantasy. I felt embarrassed to have this fantasy revealed. Then I saw something in his face that told me what was going to happen next. He was going to read from my tumblr post about the fantasy he was currently fulfilling.

I didn’t want the additional humiliation of having him read out my fantasy to the group. Not only would they know that he really was fulfilling a fantasy, that this was something I wanted to happen, I knew I’d be uncomfortable having my writing read aloud, and, of course, there was the fear that they would find my tumblr and I’d be entirely exposed as a disgusting, fucked up little bitch. Reaction Junkie took out his phone and I said, “No, don’t read it. You can’t!” He turned to face me, his expression making me cower. *SMACK* He slapped me hard across the face. “Did you just try to tell me what I can and can’t do?” he asked. Suitably chastened and feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, I shook my head and responded in a small voice, “No, dear.”

He pulled up my post and began reading, “”No, you may not use the bathroom.” He ignores my desperate pleas as the 5 bottles of water he made me drink before the party quickly catch up with me…” I looked at the floor as he read, embarrassed on multiple levels. Reaction Junkie noticed. “Look everyone in the eye,” he ordered. I took a deep breath, steeling myself to look up and see the faces staring back at me. Feeling humiliated, I complied with his instructions, making eye contact with each person in turn. My thoughts were racing as I searched their expressions for what they were thinking. I saw mostly amusement and interest, but that didn’t make me feel any better.

When Reaction Junkie got to a part of my fantasy where the character representing me speaks, he imitated me teasingly, “Please let me pee? It’s starting to hurt and I’m worried I’m going to wet myself.” These “cute” imitations are something that he and I have discussed repeatedly. He is not supposed to do them, and when he does, he gets punished. So, in the middle of him dominating, embarrassing, degrading, and humiliating me, I made him stop reading and lean his head down. I licked his face, which is something he finds very unpleasant and has been a common punishment for behavior such as this. “Sorry, sir.” he said in his little subby boy voice. The gathered crowed laughed and someone said, “Your dynamic is so hot.”

Of course, immediately after his punishment was over, Reaction Junkie continued reading. And I continued being uncomfortable. Now, instead of imitating me when he got to my parts of the dialogue, Reaction Junkie did something worse. He made me read my lines, all while continuing to look this crowd of friends, acquaintances, and near strangers in the eyes. He read the entire story, with me on the toilet next to him, squirming and uncomfortable for so many reasons. I had to pee, of course, but I was also turned on and embarrassed about what he was reading and that he was reading something I’d written to this group of people.

When he finally finished, reading out the last line of the fantasy, “Happy birthday, pisswhore,” I was looking down, almost distracted from the urge to piss. then he said, “I wonder if we could all fit in here. I wanted to make her piss in the tub.” I shook my head, not wanting the further humiliation of everyone filling the bathroom and watching me piss, with the added embarrassment of not being allowed to piss in the toilet like a person. The Unknown Quantity decided to chime in, “Yeah. I think we can all fit.” Reaction Junkie grinned and told me, “Sit on the edge of the tub.” I was reluctant, but didn’t want another slap or additional punishment, so I moved over to the bathtub.

The crowd filed in and someone shut the door. Now I was sitting on the rim of the tub, holding onto the sink to position myself to sit into it. And everyone was looking right at me. Reaction Junkie slid his hand between my legs and teased my cunt with his fingers. “Look how turned on she is, ” he said to the crowd. Turning back to me, he put his hand in my face, “You’re soaked. Smell this.” I obeyed, but looked down, thoroughly embarrassed and a little ashamed. Reaction Junkie said, “Look at everyone.” I did, my face growing hot as I looked at the people who now knew just how wet I was from the treatment I was receiving.

Reaction Junkie gave me another instruction, adding to my discomfort, “Spread your legs so everyone can see.” Slowly, reluctantly, I opened myself up. I felt vulnerable and exposed, and even half-closed them a few times. Each time, however, I spread them apart again when I saw Reaction Junkie’s face. He considered for a moment, and then asked, “Should I go get a vibrator?” I shook my head, actually upset. I didn’t think I’d be able to get off like this, or, if I could, I worried it would take so long that people would get bored. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle that in addition to the stress of the situation. He saw the expression on my face and recognized what I needed. “Nah, that will take too long,” he said. “Now piss.”

I started to try and let go, to start peeing in the tub. I kept my eyes focused on him alone, not wanting to look anyone else in the eye while I pissed in the tub. “Don’t look at me. Look at Pretty Girl,” Reaction Junkie said, ordering me to look the girl I like right in the eyes. The first time we’d hung out outside of happy hour, and she was about to see me piss myself. I looked at her, complying with his instructions. Reaction Junkie ordered me to pee again. I tried, but just couldn’t let go. “I don’t know. I can’t.” I said to him. “Oh, you better,” he responded, “You better piss yourself in front of all these people.”

I was worried about what people would thing, how they’d see me differently. Finally, the need to pee overcame my desire not to do so like this, in front of all these people. The piss streamed out of me, splashing into the tub as I emptied my bladder, a group of people watching my degradation and humiliation. Finally, the stream slowed to a trickle, then drops, and finally, it stopped. Reaction Junkie asked if I needed toilet paper. I said, “Yes, please.” When he handed it to me, I looked at it and said, “Not the one ply! Red!” making everyone laugh. Then I wiped, adding one final embarrassment to the day. Everyone filed out, leaving Reaction Junkie and I alone together. I was filled with a mix of emotions. Arousal, shame, amusement, embarrassment, gratitude, and, of course, happiness. How could I not be happy? Reaction Junkie had just literally made one of my fantasies come true.

I can’t wait to see what he’ll do for my actual birthday.

I’m in Reaction Junkie’s shower, having just finished washing up when I hear him come into the bathroom, slide open the shower door, and say, “Good morning.” There’s something in his voice, so I turn towards him. His cock is in his hand, and a stream of piss is hitting my leg.

“I just washed that leg,” I pout at him. He just laughs and continues to empty his bladder onto me. When he’s finished, he looks at my half-annoyed, half-amused face and grins at me. “Kiss me,” he orders. Smiling back at him, I happily comply.

“No, you may not use the bathroom.” He ignores my desperate pleas as the 5 bottles of water he made me drink before the party quickly catch up with me. He tells me to stop bothering him and let him talk to people. Before I can ask again, he grabs me around the middle and squeezes me against him, continuing his conversation as if nothing is happening. I moan from the pain-tinged arousal that always results from having my full bladder compressed. The other people in the group hide their smiles and stifle their laughter, but I blush anyway, embarrassed for them to know how much this is turning me on. When he lets go, I stand next to him and dance from leg to leg as I try to focus on the conversation.

When it starts to hurt, I say in a quiet voice, “Please let me pee? It’s starting to hurt and I’m worried I’m going to wet myself.” He tells me to speak up, that it’s rude to whisper in a group. I look down at the floor, my cheeks flushed, but there’s no denying the way my cunt feels as I say, loud enough for everyone to hear, “May I please pee? It really hurts and…and I’m worried I’m going to wet myself.” He grins at me, enjoying my distress, and turns to the group, “Should I let her go to the bathroom?” he asks. The others laugh and respond, half kind, half cruel.

He considers for a moment before saying, “Let’s compromise. You may piss, but you may not use the bathroom. Sit on the floor.” He points towards the wall. I stare at him, not understanding. He gives me one of those looks and says more sharply, “Sit on the floor. Back against the wall. And spread your legs so everyone can see.” I slowly walk to the other side of the room, my bladder aching, and position myself as instructed.

The whole party is looking at me now. He walks over to me and says, “Go ahead. You have permission to piss.” “But…but I can’t. Not in front of everyone! You have to let me go to the bathroom, please!” I respond in horror. He grabs my hair, forcing me to look at him, and slaps me in the face. “Did you just refuse? And tell me what I ‘have’ to do? I think you’re forgetting how this works.” He slides his hand under my panties and continues, half turning to the group, “Besides, I can tell how much you want to do this. Your cunt is fucking soaking. You know what? Since this is your birthday party, not only am I going to forgive you for the backtalk, I’m going to be extra nice.” He hands me a vibrator. “Hold this on your clit. In addition to permission to piss, you also have permission to cum.”

Thoroughly embarrassed now, but reminded of my place by his voice and the slap, I turn on the toy and press it against my throbbing clit. I close my eyes, still feeling the pressure of everyone looking at me, and attempt to relax my muscles, trying to focus on the vibrations running through my cunt. After a minute, I’m finally able to let go. As soon as I do, I feel the relief of my emptying bladder as my panties are soaked in warm piss. I look up to see everyone watching, some people amused, some aroused, some disapproving. The humiliation and arousal and release of finally, finally being allowed to pee overwhelm me and I cum hard, legs shaking, body trembling, head pressed back against the wall.

When I’m finally feel able to think again, still shivering with aftershocks, legs gone numb, I slowly open my eyes to see him crouched over me, smiling, “Happy birthday, pisswhore.”

When I went to rinse the ashes out of my mouth, The Super Sadist told me to clean myself out so he could use my ass. It (oh gods this is embarrassing) took a long time. Too long. When I came out, The Super Sadist was waiting. He put a knife up to my neck, threatening me. I was immediately compliant as he duct taped my arms together behind my back. He made me get on my knees and lick his balls. When he was hard again, he pushed me over. My hands were behind my back, so my face pressed against the carpet as he pushed his cock onto my ass. There was no lube. I whimpered, but didn’t try to get away. There wouldn’t have been any point in trying, anyway. He fucked my ass hard, using my bound hands as leverage as he thrust into me. “I knew ass raping a feminist would be a good game,” he growled, making me squirm and struggle and moan.

He didn’t cum while using my ass. No, he had another, more degrading, more uncomfortable idea. He grabbed the copy of the SCUM Manifesto that I bought for him while in San Francisco and sat down in a chair. Motioning me to kneel between his legs, he had me use my mouth on his balls while he read to me from the book, laughing at the stupidity of a woman proclaiming the inferiority of men and reversing the genders to make the book an accurate depiction of reality: “The [female] is completely egocentric, trapped inside [herself], incapable of empathizing or identifying with others, or love, friendship, affection of tenderness. [She] is a completely isolated unit, incapable of rapport with anyone. [Her] responses are entirely visceral, not cerebral; [her] intelligence is a mere tool in the services of [her] drives and needs; [she] is incapable of mental passion, mental interaction; [she] can’t relate to anything other than [her] own physical sensations.”

He came on the cover of the book, and then had me wait while he cleaned himself off. I knew what was going to happen next. One of the first things I saw him post was about wanting to make a girl snort cum off of a feminist book of some sort. He floated the idea of doing it off the SCUM Manifesto and, in fact, that was the reason I bought it for him. When he came back, he’d cut up a straw. He used one of my loyalty cards to scrape the cum together into two lines. I hesitated and made conversation to stall, but eventually I had to do the inevitable.

While The Super Sadist recorded the event on video, I put the straw in my right nostril, lowered the tip to one of the lines of cum, pinched my nose shut, and breathed in sharply. I sucked up the whole line and then repeated the process for the other side. It wasn’t as painful as I thought it might be, but doing it off of that book while The Super Sadist recorded it and laughed made it humiliating. He went to have a cigarette and told me that he would let me blow my nose once he was done. I accompanied him, but decided not to take him up on that. Having the smell of his cum in my nose for the rest of the day seemed appropriate and fitting.

While we were outside, we were talking and he said something provoking. I jokingly went to punch his arm, although I didn’t. When I told him I’d considered doing that and then thought better of it, he said he’d seen that. Feeling impish, I said, “You should probably punish me for thinking about doing it.” I thought he might punch me in the arm or kick me or something. Instead, without warning, he socked me right in the stomach. Oof. I bent double, clutching my midsection, and looked up at him. He was laughing at my surprise and pain. It was ridiculously hot.

When he finished smoking, we headed back inside to get ready to go to dinner. We went into the bathroom to shower together and he told me to get on my knees. I thought he was just going to piss on me. Once again, I had underestimated him. This time he was going to do something much more violating and degrading and humiliating. He made me bend forward and spread my ass for him as much as I could. I winced and whimpered as he started pissing into my ass. It wasn’t just the stinging sensation from the urine hitting my roughly fucked hole. He was making me spread myself open for him so that he could use me as a toilet. I’m a toy for him and all of my holes are available to him for use in any way. I felt exposed and degraded as he finished pissing into me, leaving me face down in his piss.

We showered, got dressed, and smoked weed in preparation for delicious vegan food. Then we headed out the door. On the way to and from the restaurant we had great conversation about all kinds of things. When we got to the restaurant, we ordered our delicious vegan food. I got buffalo wings and he got BBQ tofu. Then, on the way out, I got a cupcake and a cookie. We shared the cookie back at his place and I had the cupcake in the airport. Everything was amazing and delicious and I’m so happy he was willing to go eat rabbit food with me.

While we were at the restaurant, I said something silly and he called me “Stupid.” Being called stupid in public like that turned me on like crazy and I could feel my cunt clench. I like being insulted and treated poorly in public, although I especially enjoy it at kink events because I don’t want to actually do anything that might make someone uncomfortable in a vanilla setting. It reminds me of my place, and I like that people can see that I’m the depraved kind of person who likes being treated like that.

When we got back to his place, we Skyped with Marxman for a little while. The Super Sadist was doing something on the other side of the room while I started the call. After we had talked for a minute or two, Marxman commented to The Super Sadist, “She’s flinching and following you around the room with your eyes.” The Super Sadist looked very pleased with himself as he said, “Yeah. She’s been doing that.” Being in that state of mind suits me quite well. Having a heightened awareness of him and his movements means that I’m in a good mental place, that he’s been hurting, using, and scaring me in the right ways.

The Super Sadist started hitting me, and, after we got off Skype, he “forced” me to smoke more pot than I had been. We both got rull high. We cuddled and fucked and cuddled. While we were cuddling and waiting for the taxi to come take me away, we were looking at each other and I was actually making eye contact. Normally I don’t, not for a long time, but I felt comfortable with him. He noticed the change and said, “I think this is the longest you’ve made eye contact with me.” I was being silly, so I replied, “It’s cuz I’m not scared of you any more.” He looked at more more intensely, and I kept it up until he broke me by saying, “Is it too gay if I tell you you have really pretty eyes?” The ridiculous way he’d phrased it, and the compliment itself, made me giggle and look down, feeling embarrassed in an adorable, happy sort of way.

Finally the taxi came and we said our goodbyes. I was sad to leave, but very, very glad that I decided to make the trip there. I had a fuckton of fun, was happy to have been useful to my new owner, and really enjoyed getting to know him even better.

[Note: This is about the previous happy hour, on Tuesday, August 19 2014]

When we got to the fast food place, Reaction Junkie and Anderson Cooper ordered their food. Before we walked up the stairs to grab a table, Reaction Junkie handed me his bag to carry while he went to the bathroom. When Anderson Cooper came over, I decided to see if he would do something for me and, in an adorable little voice, I told him the bag was too heavy and asked him to carry it. He obviously did. Later on, Reaction Junkie told me he probably liked that. Hee hee hee. We all sat down and talked for a while. They both have appealing politics and I enjoy watching their friendship dynamic.

A little while later, another group of people from happy hour joined us, and we moved to a bigger table. Several of them were women who were, from what I could tell, toppy or top-leaning. I was really digging the energy at the table and the way people were interacting. I’m ridiculously into the idea of having a friend group, where I have lots of friends and they all know each other, as opposed to just having a bunch of friends. It’s about that community feel. It makes me feel like I have a home, a bit like having a chosen family. Maybe not quite that intense, although I also crave that family feeling, so I would welcome having a group of friends/a community develop into a chosen family.

The toppy ladies were talking about underwear and one of them said “Looking cute is important in the dungeon. You look cute and then you hurt people.” Role models! That’s exactly how I want to be when I’m topping/domming. Also, at one point I said something about having to play dumb or being submissive to men, or something. One of the women responded in a sardonic tone, “Oh, yes. Because women are inferior to men and should be submissive to them at all times.” She waited a beat and then continued, “Because the guys at this table definitely believe that.” It’s funny cuz subby boys. Later on, one of the women was talking about CBT and offering to give lessons to the other. I said I would be interested. She gave me her card and said she would definitely teach me some time. Heh heh heh heh.

I really liked these women, but they intimidated me. Not only because they were toppy, but also because they were women. Women are always more intimidating than men. Partially because I care a lot about what women think and find them harder to impress, which makes for a nervous little feminist bitch. Not to mention the fact that men are, well, easy. No offense, guys. Y'all are still superior and all that, but I know what to do with you. Reaction Junkie has promised to help me make some female friends, which I’m super excited about.

Before we left the restaurant, Reaction Junkie asked if I was in a toppy space. I’d been hitting someone pretty hard not too long before, but also I really like subbing for him, so I said I could be. It seemed like he wanted me to, so I resolved to try to keep my headspace. We headed out to take the train, and, as we left, Anderson Cooper called after us, “Have fun, you two!”, making me blush and smile. I like it when someone knows exactly what dirty dirty things I’m about to go get up to.

While we were waiting for the train, he started saying things to me, holding my hair, and generally being dommy. He started referencing the edgeplay I’m not allowed to tell anyone about, and I finally stopped him and ask him if he wanted me to top. I knew that if he kept doing what he was doing, it would render me unable to do so. He said he could go either way, I said that I could top, but then he just…kept doing those things and pushed me into a subby headspace. When we got on the train, we cuddled up and he started whispering terrible things in my ear about hurting me, killing me, raping me. About how nobody would even try to stop him if he just started beating me then and there. I was incredibly turned on and it was all I could do not to moan too loudly.

When we finally made it back to his place, he went into the kitchen while I took off my shoes. He asked me if I wanted water, and I said I did. He called me into the kitchen, telling me to come get it. I sighed to myself and thought, “He’s doing a thing.” When I walked into the kitchen, I found that I had been absolutely correct. He had a bowl filled with water and told me I was going to drink my water out of it, on the floor, no hands. Like an animal. That is my place, after all. I whined for a while, but I was always going to do it. It was new for me, and I tend to whine before doing new things, but when someone, especially someone with that level of control over me, tells me to do a thing, I do a thing.

He told me to drink it like a kitty, by lapping it up. I was thirsty and being a bit pert, so I asked if I could do it like a horse instead, since horses gulp. He agreed, although he did make me drink some of it “like a kitty” because he wanted to see it. When I’d drank most, but not all, of the water, I stopped. “Are you done?” he asked. I didn’t want more and I didn’t want to keep drinking off the floor, so I said, “Yes.” He repeated the question,“Are you done?” I whined that I couldn’t tell what question he was asking, if I was finished and didn’t want more, or if I had drank all of it. His tone changed when he asked the next time.“Are. You. Done?” I took a risk and said, “Yes.”

He picked up the bowl and grabbed a towel. “You know how we can check if you’re done?” he asked. I cringed, knowing I’d answered wrong. He dumped the rest of the water on my head, and I whimpered. Next time I’ll actually finish my water.

Now that I’d been properly put in my place, we went into his room. I stripped and went to the bathroom. He told me that when I was done pissing, I should spread my legs. I did as instructed, and he came in and pissed into the bowl through my legs. Some got on me, of course, and when he was done, he told me, in a disgusted tone, to clean myself off. I sighed, washed off, and brushed my teeth.

When I went back into the bedroom, he was already in bed. He motioned for me to kneel next to him and I complied. “I’ve reconsidered you letting me sleep in my bed. You can sleep at the foot of the bed.” he told me, noting that I was gross from being on the train and being pissed on. I felt a bit sad and let out a little noise. “Can you say there all night? he asked. I told him I didn’t know, and he seemed to pick up on the fact that not being allowed to cuddle up and sleep with him would have made me bad, and not in a good way, because he told me we could do it another time, he wanted a big spoon.

We cuddled up. I was super exhausted from all the fun I’ve been having, especially with him. He reached back and started playing with my cunt. I fell asleep with him touching me.

I like this kid. I slip into subspace ridiculously easily with him, and I love the rush of being afraid that I get when he tops me. It’s also fun to get to explore my dom side, even if I cede control to him at the slightest hint he’ll take it. Besides the kink stuff, he’s a genuinely interesting person and I really enjoy both having conversations with him and just listening to him talk. I’m excited to spend more time with him.

I woke up Saturday morning grinding against The Super Sadist. I don’t know who started it, but it did mean I didn’t wake him up with a blowjob. Oops. I’m sure he was terribly disappointed. When we were both completely awake, he said, “I think I should beat you while you read me the stupid things people wrote on your post."  He was referencing the invasion of context-ignoring, kink shaming radfems who had found my face bruise post and were reblogging it and leaving paternalistic, agency-denying, violently anti-dom comments on it. I’d offered the idea of getting hit once for each stupid comment, but I liked his modification even better, and excitedly agreed to the game.

I grabbed my phone and lay on my stomach, giving him access to my ass and thighs. Opening up the post, I started reading. "Who the fuck thinks they are in a healthy relationsh-…” I was interrupted by the feel of his fist connecting with my flesh. He started punching and smacking my ass and thighs, which is my favorite kind of and location for impact. I continued reading the comments, their words punctuated by my moans and gasps as he kept beating me. Feeling him use his hands to hurt me while we talked about, were annoyed by, and expressed amusement at the shamey comments helped remind me that what they say doesn’t matter. What matters is what I enjoy posting and, more importantly, what the men who use me enjoy doing to me and reading about.

When I finished reading the comments, he had me shaking a little, from both shame and arousal. Laying back, he had me use my mouth on him. I had just started the blowjob when he had an idea. He grabbed a belt. I looked at him, not wanting to be choked while sucking cock. He put the end of the belt through the buckle, holding the loop in the air. “Put your head through,” he instructed. I hesitated and whined, but then he gave me a look. I reluctantly put my head through and he gently pulled my hair out from under the belt before tightening it around my neck.

He pulled me down into his crotch and I wrapped my lips around his cock. At first, he mostly used the belt to choke me, but as he continued using my mouth, he started using it to control me and my movements. I took as much of him as I could, forcing myself down, trying to open my throat. I choked on his cock and started to pull up. He held my head down and told me to “Keep it in, bitch.” I pulled up, but his hand kept me down longer, a beat or two beyond my comfort level. When he let me up, strings of sputum followed me, and I gasped for air. We did this several times until he finally took the belt from around my neck.

“I have an idea,” he said, he stood up. I made to do the same, but he said, “Crawl.” He grabbed a hunk of hair and half-pulled, half-led me to the bathroom on my hands and knees. He sat down on the toilet. “Now I can be as rough as I want.” I hesitated, not wanting the humiliation of sucking his cock over the toilet, but then my head was forced back onto his cock and he roughly fucked my face. He pushed my head down, his cock deeper than it had been before, and I gagged. He didn’t let me up and I threw up a little. When he finally let me up, I said, “I threw up” in a pathetic little voice. “I know,” he responded, not a hint of mercy. He continued using my mouth, and when he was ready to cum, he had me lick his balls while he stroked his cock. He growled out insults and degradation as he came on my face and in my hair, just like a desperate cumslut like me deserves.

He told me to get in the tub, and I knew what was going to happen next. I kneeled, and he stood over over me, cock in hand. I looked down and shut my eyes as he pissed in my hair. The next expected command came. “Open your mouth.” I complied, and tasted the warm, salty liquid hit my tongue and felt it spray over my face. When my mouth was full, I closed it, swallowed, and opened it again without being told. “Did you swallow?” he asked. “Yes, mister,” I answered. I earned a “Good girl” for being such an eager, disgusting little pisswhore.

After we both cleaned up and got dressed, we went to the store for groceries and for an enema I could empty out and replace with water so that he could use my ass. I also bought condoms at the pharmacy and The Super Sadist went outside to smoke, leaving me to buy condoms and an enema. And, of course, the condoms wouldn’t ring up, so I had to stand there, somewhat embarrassed at the obviousness of my purchases. We got Chipotle (yay!) and walked back to his place. As on the way to the store and on the train, we talked about all sorts of things. Obviously, I’m not good for much besides fucking and beating, but I think we both enjoyed the conversations we had. We have similar ideas on a lot of topics and seemed to be able to figure out where the other was coming from pretty easily, which is always nice to find in a partner. When we got back to his place, we relaxed for a little while, and then it was time for the degradation, humiliation, and pain to continue.