Chapter 4
Madame Lisa was on her way to the party. She had just flown in from Yugoslavia. Her wolfhound, Marcum, was with her.
Madame Lisa was an expert at administering discipline, especially water discipline. Wet punishment was what she called her specialty.
She hailed a cab and demanded to be driven directly to the townhouse of my master, Master Marty. It seems that there was some problem. Later, she told about it, so I heard the story straight from her.
I know that the problem was mostly the fault of Madame Lisa and her demands, not that she would recognize that. I certainly would never mention that to her. I know that I would suffer for such a remark.
It seems that Madame Lisa has no patience at all. She is a very demanding woman and since she is served hand and foot by slaves (both male and female) she is accustomed to having her way.
At home in Yugoslavia, she has a huge mansion filled with humble slaves. They consider themselves her lowly servants. "You are scum. You are shit," she tells them.
She warns them that they must beg for her beatings. She is very cruel.
But she insists that she knows exactly what she is doing. "I would never administer something I did not know about," I heard her tell Marty in passing once she had finally arrived. "I have been through all of it myself."
Marty agreed that a good sadist had experienced pain firsthand.
Anyway, the problem was that the cab driver, not familiar with the section of town in which Marty's place was located, made a wrong turn. He turned up a street which happened to be a dead end. As a result, he had to turn around and go all the way back.
He was nice enough to apologize for the mistake, even though it could have happened to anyone. Madame Lisa didn't see it that way.
"You fool," she said. "You're supposed to know the city," she added in her abrupt manner. "I see that you don't know your ass from your elbow." (She had heard that American expression from a very lowly bum on the street one day in New York. Although she was reported to be from a royal family, she took a liking to that particular expression and used it frequently.)
"I'm sorry," the driver said politely.
Madama Lisa told him that he would pay for his mistake.
He assumed that she said that she wouldn't pay for his mistake; she would not pay the added fare which retracing the path would cause. He didn't think that she would be so aggressive and so rude as to say what she actually did threaten.
"Ill stop the meter before we arrive at the destination," the cab driver said, making a further concession to the stern woman.
Madame Lisa paid him no mind. She devoted her full attention to Pisser, her wolfhound. The dog was a nervous one. His name had been given because he was so highly strung, that he often pissed when it was less than appropriate. He mistook human legs for fire hydrants, if you know what I mean.
When they finally reached the area, the cabbie did turn off the meter. It wasn't enough to appease Madame Lisa. Madame Lisa is a stern dominatrix. She is used to getting her way, and once she is foiled in that respect, she sees to it that she has her revenge. She needs that.
She paid her fare. Then she told the driver, "Take a look in the back seat. That's what should be all over your face."
The confused cabbie leaned back and looked in the back seat. It was covered with steaming piss.
"Hey, your dog pissed all over my cab," he called out to Madame Lisa.
"That wasn't only my dog," the madame retorted. She pulled up her floor-length skirt to reveal her naked pussy. It was still wet with pee. The golden pubic bush gleamed with wet drops.
"You pig," the cabbie muttered under his breath. He wanted to punch her. But something stopped him from following her into the townhouse. Perhaps he had some guiding angel who prevented him from stepping into the devilish doings of Marty's orgy of punishment.
"I have arrived. I am here!" Madame Lisa announced as she entered the foyer of the townhouse. Everyone knew her. They had been to Marty's parties before, and Madame Lisa was a woman who, once seen, could not be forgotten. Furthermore, once a person felt her sting, there would be an indelible impression left on them, body and soul.
Marty didn't really seem to need a hand in the training of his bitches. At least, that's the way I felt about it. Frankly, I didn't want to be trained by Madame Lisa. No way.
In the first place, she was a woman. I didn't want to be handled like that by a member of my own sex. I wanted to be dominated by the male animal. And Marty was certainly a male animal. Yes he was, in every sense of the words.
But Madame Lisa had her own ideas. That was for sure, and it became obvious with the way in which she rolled up her sleeves, all ready to get to work.
"Work of this kind is pleasure for me," Madame Lisa declared. "I've come from Yugoslavia with some new, up to the minute techniques for training naughty girls."
"Do any of them involve water sports?" Marty asked, although surely he already knew that he would receive a positive response to that question.
"Of course, darling," Madame Lisa replied, tossing her head back and laughing outrageously. "So many of them do. The pressure of water can be much greater than the pressure of a human hand."
"Up an asshole, it certainly can," Marty replied. He certainly was in a position to know, and I do mean the top position.
"I have some wonderful new douche materials," Madame Lisa said. "I've had wonderful response with them. Is there a girl here who needs domination by enema?"
I tried to crouch down lower in the tub of piss. My long blonde hair was soaked in the pungent liquid. I didn't want to be singled out for abuse from wicked Madame Lisa. Beautiful as she was, I could tell that she possessed a heart of stone.
"Yes, I have a new slave girl who has just joined my stable of sluts," Marty said. I hated to hear it. I hoped he wasn't speaking about me.
But of course, he was. I heard the spiked heels of Madame Lisa coming closer to the tub. The sounds echoed through the damp chamber like menacing clicks, each one bringing me closer to ultimate degradation.
I wanted only Marty to dominate me. Shit, it was more than just the fact that Madame Lisa was a female and I needed to be dominated by a male. The truth of the matter was, I needed to be abused by Marty because I loved him. I loved him for his rough treatment of me. I was already beginning to need it that way. In Marty I had the dominating male I had always dreamed of.
This wasn't a dream. But it was very wet.
However, Marty had his ideas about how he intended to dominate me. I had no say in the matter.
"You'll take whatever Madame Lisa says you need," Marty say as he grabbed me by my hair and yanked me up from the pissy tub. He had untied my rubber hose bonds. He slapped my naked tits with the piss that had collected in the tub.
"B-but, Marty, please," I begged.
He was having none of it.
I told him that I wanted to be dominated by him and him alone. I blurted out my need for him. I screamed it out so that everyone could hear. I didn't care. Nothing mattered but Marty, and I knew that if he considered me to be disobedient for this outburst, he would punish me for it, and that was what I wanted.
Painful as existence was with him, it would be more painful without him. I needed only several hours under his roof to know that. It was a blazing truth in the deepest part of my cunt.
The guests observed my outburst. Some were stunned into silence. Others whispered among themselves. I guess that some of the other girl slaves were straining at the bonds over the remarks I yelled. I know that they must have been jealous. How could they have been anything but jealous. We were slave girls and Marty was not beyond putting us in a ring to fight it out among ourselves for the right to sleep on the floor by his bed.
Yes, that is how low he made us feel, and I am not ashamed to say it.
Marty has a large ego. It must be part of his need to dominate. But I am not going to start to analyze the situation. I am not a psychotherapist or anything like that. If I were, I would be finding reasons from my dark past for every need I have and for every move I make.
But I have no interest in doing that. My time is too valuable to waste on reasons. What difference do they make? All that matters is Marty and my time must be spent in his service. In his service, I will learn. I will become a good slave girl and a better person.
And a happier, more fulfilled person, also.
Marty was pleased that I had told the truth and admitted my immediate love for him. He told me that I would have to be punished for yelling in front of his guests, and he assured me that the beating I would receive would take several hours to administer in totality, and that the soreness and bruises would stay with me for several days just as reminders that I had been a bitch.
But he did like it that I had been moved to that point, and he spoke to me, for once, explaining that he would not change his mind. I was to take the abuse of Madame Lisa, like it or not. That was it.
But the way he explained it gave me new incentive for withstanding what was surely to be torture.
He said, "You will still be doing for me. I have chosen you to take the punishment of Madame Lisa. Not only is it an honor to be on the receiving end of Madame Lisa's wrath, but you will still be my slave."
I understood that Marty would still be in ultimate control. He was the god and he would be watching over as Madame Lisa taught me a few lessons.
As for the madame herself, she was highly insulted that I should speak out against receiving a punishment session from her. She would see to it that I would receive an extra dose of whatever was coming to me.
The wolfhound had to be chained outside. The smell of piss was making him get all hot. Being a lower animal, he was more primitive than the rest of us. Of course, we were a primitive bunch, so he wasn't that far below us. But the scent he was sniffing for was not to be found in the playroom. So Madame Lisa chained the dog outside.
But she had one of Pisser's dog collars which she snapped on me. To my dismay, it was spiked on the inside. The spikes pressed into my neck.
She also had a suitcase of things which had brought with her. She called the things "toys" although they were hardly play things as far as I was concerned. But then, this basement was called a playroom, so toys were appropriate, even though both the location and the objects were, I felt, misnamed.
"I'm going to flush some of that sass out of your system," Madame Lisa announced to me.
She was holding a menacing douche bag.
"First, the warm water douche," she said. I couldn't fight her off. She was a large woman, but besides that, I was already exhausted from all that I had been through. There was no way that I could fight her off, even if I dared to try.
She worked like the expert she was. Within moments, she had me turned in such a way that my asshole was up for the nozzle of the enema hose.
There must have been some kind of a knob that she turned to release the water pressure. It started flowing into my anus, filling me up. She had filled the bag with warm, soapy water.
"Hold it in," Madame Lisa told me.
I looked up into her face. She was terrifyingly beautiful. I felt the warm water pumping into my belly. She knew just how much to give before turning the valve to the closed position. She would make me suffer with a gut of warm water, then she would start it up again, pumping more water into me once I had gotten used to the bloated feeling of the previous pumping.
Never had I experienced a sexual desire for a woman before. I had started off by taking a disliking to Madame Lisa, simply because she was doing what I wanted only Marty to do.
But as I stared into her face as she let more water into me, I knew that if there would ever be a woman that I could have sex with, it would be Madame Lisa, for she was my mistress.
She took her hands and placed them on my belly. She pressed into my flesh, putting pressure on the water which was giving pressure from the inside out.
She knew exactly what she was doing. Not only had she done this many times with many girls, but she was a female herself, and therefore she knew better than any man how much a female could take into her body. She was personally familiar with the plumbing, if you get what I'm saying.
When she pressed into my filled gut, I whimpered uncontrollably. She shot me a look like I'd never seen before. If looks could freeze, then I would have had a block of ice implanted in my body.
But the water remained warm and soapy. I could feel it sloshing around inside of me.
"If there's room for it to slosh around," Madame Lisa said, "then there's room for more water."
I was trembling.
I couldn't refuse Madame Lisa, even if I wanted to.
I looked up at Marty who was standing with his arms folded across his massive chest. A slave girl was down between his legs, sucking him off.
I couldn't believe it! It was ultimate humiliation.
Here I was was enduring this terrible enema treatment, and to humiliate me further, Marty stood watching while a slave girl sucked on his naked prick. It was cruel. Marty knew that I wanted him sexually and in every way. I had professed my desire in an unrestrained confession.
And that was exactly why he tormented me this way. Knowing that he was punishing me even more made his cock rock hard in the suctioning mouth of the slave girl. Or, to be more accurate, I should say that the cock was down the girl's deep throat. There was too much meat there for just a mouth.
When Madame Lisa gave me exceptional abuse, that prompted Marty to bump his pelvis so that the girl really received the throbbing boner to the hilt. I imagined that when Madame Lisa subjected me to the most intense pain, Marty would shoot his big load of gism down the slave girl's throat.
"I'm not going to let you go without taking a second enema," Madame Lisa told me. "I need another slave."
"There's one over there," Marty said, pointing out a girl who was crawling around at crotch level, servicing the unleashed dicks of all the male party guests, at Marty's command, of course.
Madame Lisa's booted high heel kicked the naked slave girl in the ass.
"Lie down in that tub," Madame Lisa told the slave girl. "On your back."
The girl did as she was told. As for me, I was groaning. The pressure in my gut was just too much. It was just too painful. I had to let that warm water out of me or I thought I would explode.
Once the girl was down in the tub, Madame
Lisa brought me over to it. She made me squat over the girl's body.
I was holding my ass cheeks together as best as I could under the circumstances. However, since I was being forced to straddle the tub, and since I had one foot on either side of it, keeping my ass cheeks pressed tightly together was a very difficult job.
I was afraid that if a drop escaped my hole when I was told to keep it in, that I would be given a new punishment, and that might be even worse.
But luck, for once, was with me. Madame Lisa ordered me to let it all loose. And with great relief, that was exactly what I did-
It poured forth from my hole like a torrent.
I know that it was mostly soapy water. Still, it had been sloshing around inside of me, and Madame Lisa had said that she would clean out my sassy attitude. I was afraid that the enema would be cleaning out even more than that, and all over the naked slave girl who, under the order of Madame Lisa's whip, was being forced to take it all on herself.
I didn't look down into the tub. I just let it flow.
The water didn't all come out at first. I thought, at one point, that I had finished releasing it. But I was wrong. When I changed positions slightly (still straddling the tub, of course), I felt a new gush come forth. There was another heavy load to be dropped all over the naked slave girl.
It was a great relief to me to have the water out of my system. I did feel clean and almost renewed. But as far as my mistress was concerned, the soapy water enema was only the prelude.
It was hard to believe that there could be more to come. But there certainly was as I was soon to find out.
Madame Lisa raved about the next treatment she was going to give me.
"After you take this next enema," she told me, "you will be treated to a very special surprise. All this discipline and domination is making me hot and horny. I have to put my pussy on your face."
I didn't think I could stand it. I looked at Marty. He nodded his head as if to tell me that I would do that, and more.
His word was law, and so I winced, closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and raised my rounded rear for the next session of enema discipline. I knew that I would be a better girl for it.
This was really a special enema treatment! It wasn't warm water that Madame Lisa next hosed up into my ass.
She again greased my hole and inserted the tube. This time she had filled the enema bag with another substance. She had filled it with whiskey!
The whiskey contained something which started to burn the membranes of my torn inner ass. I squealed.
"Do I have gag you to keep you from squealing like the pig that you are," Marty snapped at me.
Just because I am a bitch at heart, a bitch in need of discipline, I screamed again. It wasn't an act, because the sting of the whiskey was really burning me. My hole, my asshole that is, had been a virgin hole up until a few hours earlier. Suddenly it was stretched, abused, and now burned by stinging whiskey.
I must admit that I wanted to be gagged with the fleshy gag that Marty was using to fill the throat of. the slave girl who was swinging on his dick.
Yes, when he asked if I needed to be gagged, I squealed again because I wanted little more than to feel his big dick sticking me in the mouth, down the throat, shooting his sticky seed into my enema-punished belly.
But if Marty knew what I wanted, he didn't give it to me. I should have known better. It shouldn't have taken me so long to know that whatever he did was designed to torment me, because it was for my own good, and because that was the way in which he got his perverted kicks.
He followed through on his word, as he always did. He gagged me, alright, but not with his dick. Instead, he stuck his booted foot into my mouth.
"Bite down on it," he said. "That way you won't squeal like a fucking snot-nosed pig. But if you leave teeth marks in my leather, you'll be very sorry that you were ever born."
He shoved the toe of his rounded engineer boot further into my mouth. It was filthy. But I was, in a way, glad to have it. It was a part of my man, my Master Marty, and I wanted to feel that as I received my punishment.
Madame Lisa turned the valve so that my insides would receive the full flow of whiskey from the enema bag. Perhaps she had warmed the whiskey before putting it in the bag, because a warmth pervaded my body once the insides of me were stuffed full of whiskey.
In fact, a heat came into me. It was a physical heat, but it was a sex heat, too.
I began licking the boot, instead of biting it. I stuck my tongue way out so that Marty, looking down on me, could see my slippery pink tongue gliding over the blackness of his leather boot. I wanted to let him see that I would be a boot slave to him, making the black leather shine.
I was writhing now, and it wasn't only out of the pain of being filled with whiskey. It was also because I was sexually hot.
What I didn't realize was the fact that I was totally drunk. I was smashed! That whiskey was very strong stuff. My tolerance for liquor has never been too great. After all, I only just reached drinking age, and besides, even when I managed to get a nip here and there before legal age, I wound up soused.
Imagine taking it through the ass channel!
It had its effect, only quicker! It was in my system, not through the oral channel, but through my butt hole. I had never experienced anything like it. I was flying!
I felt something very soft against me. It felt like soft velvet being brushed against my bare flesh.
When I blinked my eyes and focused in on it, to my surprise I discovered that the softness was actually the skin of Madame Lisa!
When I was tripping away on my Master Marty's boot, Madame Lisa had removed her clothes. Her beauty was now fully revealed. Even the triangle of her pubic area exhibited a defiance which revealed her dominance. She had shaved her pussy of all its hair.
Her cunt lips were fully visible. I was soon to feel those sticky lips against me. Without asking any questions, for she never asked permission, except of another dominant, such as Marty in his home, Madame Lisa began making lesbian love to me while the whiskey enema was still inside of me. "Relax," she told me.
"But if I relax, the whiskey will come out of my hole," I stammered.
"Yes, I know it will," Madame Lisa said. It was then that I realized what was happening. Madame Lisa had unscrewed the bag of the enema device, leaving only the nozzled hose up my ass. Now the other end of the hose was unattached, and Madame Lisa placed it in her own mouth!
To assure that I wouldn't get away, Madame Lisa had cuffed her wrists to my ankles. We were in a position which would have been uncomfortable for me, Were I not bombed out of my mind.
But as it was, I was floating on a cloud of sexual desire. I knew that I had been fully abused. I was ready for the new sensations which Madame Lisa was showing me.
I felt her suctioning the whiskey out of my asshole. Since she had given me a thorough enema previously, my insides were completely clean. She was drinking pure whiskey, only she was sucking it through the tube which was embedded in my asshole.
This was an arousing show for the other guests, as you can well imagine. It was going to get even better. As Madame Lisa sucked the liquid from my hole, Master Marty gave Madame Lisa a treat! He placed one. of his special cunt-cups on Madame Lisa's pussy.
His own invention, the cunt-cup also had a hose attachment which Marty connected to my own voluptuous pussy. The two of us, Madame Lisa and I, were now connected, cunt to cunt. Since the hoses were deeply inserted into the piss-part of our pussies, we were able to exchange piss between ourselves.
You see, as Madame Lisa sucked out my asshole, I squeezed my sphincter muscle so she could get the full flow of whiskey from it. Well, as I squeezed my muscle, the muscles of my cunt pushed out the piss that had been building up there. Marty hadn't allowed me to use the bathroom. He told me that if I had to go, I would have to do it all over myself.
It was bad enough that I had been forced to lie in a party piss tub. I didn't intend to stew in my own juices as well.
But now I had to let loose, and I could feel my piss traveling from my body, through the tube, and into the cunt of Madame Lisa!
It was outrageous!
At the same time, she was sucking out my asshole. She was wearing a complete black rubber mask which left only her nostrils and her eyes exposed.
It was quite a gadget, although not as bizarre as another of the things that Madame Lisa had brought with her from Yugoslavia.
This other gadget was the most bizarre contraption I had ever seen. And not only did I get to see it, but I was given the honor of trying it out!
I had almost reached climax at the very idea of all that was happening to me. But just before I reached the point of no return, Madame Lisa decided that she wanted me to wear the special contraption she had brought from Yugoslavia. She wanted me to please the party guests by being a total slave and wearing this bizarre thing.
I was now willing to be a slave for both Master Marty and Madame Lisa. I would do anything to please them, for that was how I would please myself.
"Get her in the mood," Madame Lisa told Marty. "She's drunk from the whiskey enema. The stuff really went to her head. She needs to get real piggy and slutty in order to take her next punishments with this special head gear which I had designed for me by a lowly slave in Yugoslavia. The slave is lowly, but he does know how to create instruments of total degradation. He should. That is his ultimate fantasy and he thinks of nothing else."
Yes, I was ready to be treated grossly by Marty so that I would be ready to accept the discipline of wearing this special device which Madame Lisa spoke of. I didn't realize that I would be made to speak before all of the party guests. I didn't know that in order to "warm me up" I would be asked questions which would totally embarrass me.
"Alright, bitch," Marty started. "I want you to answer every question fully. I want you to speak loud and clear, so that everybody in the room will know just how much of a pig you are. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir. And thank you, Sir."
"Alright, scum-queen. Look into your past and tell me about a time when you pissed when you weren't supposed to. Don't think too hard. Just bring back the experience and spill out every detail. And don't try and say that it never happened. Every cunt like you has pissed in her panties."
Yes, I'm sure that there have been times when I couldn't control myself; times when I pissed on myself, in my own lace panties. But the incident that came into my mind was very clear to me, even though I hadn't thought about it for several years.
It was as clear as if it had happened the week before.
"Come on, bitch. Speak up. Let everybody know what you did."
I swallowed hard and began my true confession.
"When I was fifteen-years-old, I had a summer job. I worked at Lane's Department Store on Main Street and Fifth. I worked there at night in the credit office, filing, sending out letters, things like that."
"Come on, cunt," Marty snapped. "Get to the good part."
"Well," I continued, "I worked in the store after the store had closed to the regular customers. Nobody was in the place at night except myself and a night guard."
"Did the night guard come in and piss on you?" long-haired Marion asked. "That would be exciting. To have him come into the office, late at night in the deserted department store, and take a leak all over the front of your panties. That would be hot, to feel the heat of his steaming piss on the cleft of your cunt through pee-soaked undies. Oh, yeah, that would really make a slut out of you."
"Shut up, Marion," Marty said. "If you're not careful, I'll handcuff you to the toilet of a public john and make you stay in there all day."
"That would be hot," Marion snapped back. "I know the guys wouldn't use the urinal if they saw me handcuffed to the john."
"They'd piss all over you," Marty said.
I continued my story. "I had to take a pee. I hadn't gone all day, but I had been drinking a lot of soda. The problem was, I was locked in the office on the fifth floor. The place was wired so that if anybody had hidden in the store and tried wandering around to steal at night, an alarm would go off alerting the night guard who would know exactly where to look for the thief.
"I couldn't leave the office without having that alarm go off. I had to wait until the guard decided to come up and check on me, which he did several times a night. Then he would escort me to the bathroom, if I had to go."
"So the guard came, took you to the bathroom, and raped you on the wet tile floor by the toilets," Marion interjected. "And that's why you have this strange desire to be punished with piss."
"Shut up, Marion. If you're not careful, you'll be the one to wear Madame Lisa's new device," Marty told her.
When Marion was again silenced, I continued. "I simply couldn't wait for the night guard to come. I had to pee. I looked around the room, hoping that there might be something that I could pee in. Then, I would dump it later. I found nothing, nothing except a flower pot, that is. So I pulled up my skirt, pulled down my panties, and crouched over the pot. It became my pottie, you might say. I pissed in that.
"When the night guard finally did come about a half hour later, he held his nose and complained about the terrible smell which was coming from that plant. I was very embarrassed."
"You should be forced to lie under a pissing horse," Marion said. "We should tie you down under the horse dick of a race horse and just let him piss a stream on you."
"We have something more exciting than that lined up for this one," Marty and Madame Lisa agreed. They brought forth the special punishment device which Madame Lisa had spoken of.
"That story you just told," Madame Lisa said. "It had been inside of you for a long time."
"Several years," I replied, bowing my head, and then adding, "Mistress."
"And do you admit that you were wrong to spill your body waste into a plant which did not belong to you?"
"Yes, Mistress," I replied, head still bowed in humble submission.
"Then you must pay for your crime."
I wanted to tell her that the plant did not die. In fact, my pee seemed to have a nurturing effect on the plant. But I didn't dare talk back. Madame Lisa told me I needed this punishment. Besides, I wanted to take it to please Master Marty and give him an all-day hard-on.
"You have been walking around with guilt over this wrongdoing," Madame Lisa said as she removed her device from a case. "You will pay for your guilt, and then you will feel better."
When I saw what she was holding in her hands, I wondered if it wouldn't be better simply to carry the guilt around with me! She was holding a bizarre piece of leather and rubber and glass.
"This is the headpiece," she said. "Bring your head here so that I can attach it to you."
The next thing I knew, she had inserted tubes into my nostrils. The tubes attached themselves to a glass container which was held below my chin by a leather necklace which tied behind my neck. ; .
There was a rubber cap which fit over my head, too. Madame Lisa piled all my hair snugly under this cap. There were hoses attached to the glass container so that it would fill up with piss from one of Marty's tanks. Luckily, the attachments fit Marty's tanks perfectly, even though this device had been created many, many miles away. "This will fill you where you need it most," Madame Lisa explained. "You will learn that you must have pee near your face. You will come to know the substance, and to worship the cunts and dicks which produce it for you."
Once the bizarre contraption was fully in place, there was no doubt that I would have to familiarize myself with the substance like I had never done before.
Although it could have been revolting, I was given a special favor, and it made everything worth what I had gone through.
The sight of me with the precious golden liquids so close to my face, aroused Marty very much. I guess it was a demonstration of my extreme subservience to him, that I would actually keep his piss near to my face like that.
"I'd like to see you with that on you all day long, day in and day out," Marty told me. "I'd like you to sleep, like a dog at the foot of my bed, harnessed to the bedposts, wearing that piss bottle around your neck."
"If I lived like that, everybody who ever laid eyes on me would know that I was a slave to your piss."
"Yes," Marty said, stroking his enormous tool. "You would walk several feet behind me with my piss jar around your neck, and there would be no mistaking the fact that you are my piss slave."
My clit was swelling. My cunt was dripping. His words aroused me. His strength and dominance aroused me.
"Fuck me, Master," I begged, and I was' really pleading. "Oh, please, please Master. Fuck your slutty piss slave."
He spit on the prick which had delivered the piss which was now around my neck. My cunt had been stretched open by previous abuse during the course of this orgy for dominants and their submissives.
There was no question which side of the fence I was on, standing there, waiting to be violated up the cunt while I wore a head harness which held my Marty's hot piss.
He positioned the flared head of his magnificent piece of penis at the puckered flesh of my girlish pussy lips. The juices of my pussy, my honeyed nectars, started to pour forth.
It was a good thing that I was well-lubricated because Marty did not go slowly or gently. Despite the fact that he possessed what is known as a "Dick of death," once he felt the warmth at the opening of my tender portal, he rammed his stick in to the hilt.
In one mighty jab of his thick boner he had reached the very bottom of my young pussy.
The impact of his body against mine caused the hot piss to splash from the glass container into my face. This turned us both on. We were like wild animals.
All the horny party guests were watching our primitive mating, but they faded into oblivion as far as I was concerned. All that I knew was that I was being sexually taken by the first man who had ever really dominated me. Not even my Daddy had given me treatment like Marty did.
He slammed his big prick in and out of my abused cunny as if it were a piston. He fucked me and he fucked me. Each time he lunged his big dick into my aching pussy, the piss splashed up into my face, provoking him to bang me even harder on each following series of thrusts.
"Fuck me, Master!" I screamed.
He hit the bottom of my juicing cunt with his prick, and my words were drowned out in splashes of his piss.