A Third for My World

c/ copyright to author. No reproduction at 'for pay' sites, for commercial purpose, or monetary gain without the express written permission of the author.

(

WARNING:

This story contains graphic depictions of degradation, domination, use of pee, 'golden showers'.) Note the story is based on another by the same author, but has been revised and expanded extensively. It is not the same story. Thanks to Ms. A. for editing assistance.

* * * * *

I knew Roberta would call. She really wanted to be my piss slave, and two days earlier I had let her know there would be a brief phone session. I had just come in the door, when I heard the telephone. "Hello, Roberta. There is only one question. Will you do as I order?"

"Look in the bag I left off at your place. I purchased a doggie dish. It's yours. Now, you'll see a bottle of piss; empty it into the dish. Take a mirror and set it up beside the dish. Now, I want you on your hands and knees."

I heard some noises as she moved around. "I did it, Master," she said.

"Reach your hand to your pussy and play with yourself. You are a whore."

From her voice, I could tell she has risen up onto her knees, so her arms would be free and she could stroke herself. "Now stay on all fours you slut! You are going to act like the bitch you are. Put your mouth over the bowl and start licking it up, get your face down in it and suck up all that piss, you bitch, shake your ass in the air just the way a dog would do when she's enjoying a meal."

I could hear her trying to drink from the bowl. "That's it, slurp it, sip it, swallow it down. Sit up, holding the bowl and look at yourself in the mirror and see how amusing you look. Watch as you put the fingers of your other hand into that craving slit. Keep drinking."

I heard her start to moan. "Don't waste any time coming, this is just a quickie." I could hear her slurping.

"Hurry up and finish everything. Good dog, you're almost finished, one last slurp. Good."

Her breathing sounded heavier. "You're taking too long to come. I don't have all day. This will be a quickie. ... Fuck it, I'm ending this conversation with you, Roberta."

"Please don't, Master."

I knew what she wanted to hear. "I love you, but I gotta go. Take the rest of the piss; be a creative little slut, and come by yourself."

"Yes, Master."

"If you have the guts and desire to continue, you may call me in three days." I hung up.

========

Why am I mixed up with the likes of Roberta? Do you find her habit disgusting? or just my actions? No doubt, I'm the asshole pervert who loves to treat women like shit. Let me go back a little, and tell you the first part of my story and then hers. I'm don't care about your approval, but I'll tell you about my world. In it is my lover, my mistress, and my whore.

I'm handsome, and have always done fine with the ladies. In my mid20s, I had no shortage of girl friends and was handed the odd quickie; things appeared on track. My straight friends were asking me if I felt ready to marry, for Jessica, my latest, looked to them like quite a prize. And she was, a golden girl in the upper ranks of her class at law school. But I was aware of a destructive side to her. Back in her undergrad days, she'd been briefly hospitalized because of an overdose. "They decided it was accidental and released me," she said. "I didn't tell them what my boyfriend about all the abuse my 'friend' had done to me, before he left."

Jessica, however, began to drop hints of some new sexual interests. She'd discovered some pretty 'kinky' stuff on the 'net. I persuaded her to show me some of it, and I felt some very strange stirrings.

She called me to come into the shower with her one night and, as usual we kissed and our soapy bodies slid against each other.

There was something more on her mind, for after the kiss, she looked at me and hesitated. "Yes?" I said.

"I want you to pee on me."

It was a little surprising, but not totally out of the blue. One time we'd been camping and after a few beers we'd ended up laughing and stumbling in the bushes and having one of those 'no hands' peeing contests that women came up with sometime back in the 60s.

I obliged as she lay on her back in the tub, and I saw a look of tranquility come over her that I hadn't seen. She stroked her inner thighs and frigged herself under the stream, then contorted and drew her legs up as she came. After she relaxed, she let out her own stream which hit my legs and trickled down.

"You're the only one who's ever done that," she said. In the following weeks it happened occasionally, and obviously meant something to her. She didn't talk much about it, but one time she said, "Every Tom and Dick are ready to fuck my pussy, but none of them has a clue about what I really need. As for me, at first I did it out of curiosity. But as it progressed the question came to mind, "I wonder what it's like to be in that position," namely on the receiving end. I never conducted that experiment.

I'm going to move ahead two years in the story. Jessica was out of law school and started her 'articling'--60 hours a week at a downtown firm. I hardly ever saw her, and though we cared, the sex between us was pretty infrequent, which drove me up the wall. Things came to a head one time when she was at my place, and it had been two weeks. After dinner we left aside the dishes and got naked, and were rubbing against each other. Suddenly I came all over her stomach. "It's been so long." The words just slipped out.

"There's not much I can do, honey," she said, referring to her schedule. Although she wanted us to take a ten-minute break and 'find the old candlestick' as she said, our discussion veered into 'others.'

"You need to get laid," she said flatly. I could not tell if it was a statement or question, so I took it as a query.

"Yes."

"And us?"

"We are tight,' I said. "You're the one I love."

"But you want to get laid."

"Yes. What do you think?"

"Keep it out of my face, OK, and spare me the details. Use a condom. Do what you gotta do, but don't go wandering off on me."

"I won't wander."

"Well, your cock might, but I'm going to trust that your heart won't."

"You're my love," I said. "And I'll spare you the details."

That led to my finding Kim, who was temping in my office for the summer, and much closer to 20 than Jessica. She was kind of a jock--a runner with the buns to prove it--and really didn't want any 'heavy' talk, as she called it. Our involvement simply wasn't that emotional. Because she wasn't the brooding type, I decided to prevent any possible conflicts, so I introduced the two of them.

Jessie saw what was going on: "You like those buns, don't ya?"

I nodded. Since Jessica knew I needed a partner with more depth than a butter dish, she felt quite secure. After Kim left, Jessica said, "I think getting banged is going to do you some good." So that was the start of a threesome, though we were never in the same bed.

Kim had a thing for other women. Not just Jessie, to whom she'd given a passing caress, but others. When she asked if I cared, I said, "Bring one to me occasionally, and you can do what you will at other times." If she was getting the cream, she didn't mind me trifling with the others.

In this period, I must admit that I too took to the 'net in search of exotica and my interest turned--hardly surprising-- towards erotic urination. When I first heard the term 'piss slave,' it seems pretty far out far beyond what Jessica and I had done, but I was drawn to it.

Why not take one?

I wondered.

Jessie was unsure about the idea. "We had something special," she said.

"And so it remains." I kissed her. "It's you I love."

"But there are some nasty things you want to do."

"Yes, and I respect..."

"I know, you respect me, but more to the point, I'm never going to be your piss slave. I didn't go to law school for that."

"No problem."

"I don't know how I feel about your plan to degrade the shit out of her.... I suppose I'm pleased it's not me, and that you'll take this pissy little quirk of yours to someone else. I'm glad I'm not so destructive any more."

My love welled up, and I began, "Jessie,..."

"I know, hon," she said. "So let's be practical; you've got your jock. Now you'll have this slave; I wonder if that will satisfy the old peckerwood?"

"I think so."

"Do you think you can avoid fucking her? I don't want any more exposure to diseases."

"I won't fuck her," I promised.

"OK, but you'd better have time for me!"

-----

To help effect the plan, I turned to Kim, the one I had taken as a lover. Her looks made her a good huntress. Lithe as a bow and runner's legs. A tight pussy lay atop them. No much into kink, but there was the other plus I mentioned: she didn't mind what I did as long as it went through her, "If you find a crack, I want a crack at it!" she always said. I explained about wanting a piss slave, and she gave me an odd look. 'Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.'

'I need your help, " I said, "it's probably best if you find someone who's a bit lonely. Maybe new to the city."

And so we come to Roberta. Brand new in the city; she also had more of an 'indoor' look to her, pale of skin and dark eyes that always looked haunted. From Jessie, I knew what to look for, destructiveness, and I preferred that she feel rather vulnerable.

I told Kim, "Tell her about yourself and us, obviously, but let it out that we're not exactly engaged, if you know what I mean. Let her know I'm very demanding, but quite steadfast. That if she suited me, I'd--as they say--always be there for her."

A couple days later, Kim said, "At my school whose track I use, I think I found what you want. She's new, and from our talk, I gather there's been a couple trainwrecks in her life--emotional, I mean." Kim gave me Roberta's number, and I called her that first time, but seldom, after. "You must call me," I explained.

Roberta, I knew, was not like Kim. She would require some wooing, and so that process began. Jessie seemed amused by the turn of events, and offered lots of suggestions.

"Why so helpful?" I asked.

"I like that this one will be your whore. I don't have to concern myself about a 22-year-old with hard buns. I kind of feel responsible for all this, since our first shower scene, and it intrigues me to see this dark side of you coming out."

"Well, you helped take the lid off it. Thanks a bunch." I smiled.

"It seems more like I threw a duck into some water," she said, winking.

"My pleasure indeed. More so, if you got past the dark tendencies that might have done you in."

"Roberta really has the destructiveness?"

"Yes, so I'm finding out. She 'sets herself up,' as the shrinks say."

"And this is who you want to degrade? You crave someone inferior so you can think 'she deserves it'?"

"It feels dark," I said, "very compelling. And no, I don't want to be the abusive asshole claiming his victim 'deserves it.' She will only get what

she

stands there and takes--what she needs."

"So there are women whom you feel it's appropriate to bring so low; I'm just glad it's not me. Kink is fine, but I like the romance."

"I remember our shower scene," I interjected non-committally.

"That was a couple years back, an experiment. I think I'm past it, but I know I don't want to go further. In the direction you have in mind. Someone else can be your toilet."

So, I began sending Roberta flowers, and often arranged for her to drop by my place, in the midst of her workday, for 'lunch'. (Her job was simply to sort the mail at a Kim's college, and get it into the right bags, by building and floor.) Gradually I learned her story, but I'll skip the retelling, and just give some details that are relevant when the need arises.

Whenever I said, "I can't see you tonight" her voice became very low: "I'll miss you," she said, but without any demand. It was that delightful vulnerability about her that drew me to her. Was I falling for her? Well, I must've

looked

a bit infatuated, which was good because she could see it, and it made her feel good about becoming making love with me. We simply didn't talk about Kim, which was easy since Roberta didn't see her very often, anyway. Yet Roberta easily fell into depressions in a kind of monthly pattern, a couple days after the glow of ovulation had faded. I learned how to prevent or cure them in the oddest way, which fell in with my long-term plans. At Halloween, for a lark, she said, "Let's go watch some kink." She had in mind an SM club.

Once there, she took to all the drama, and volunteered, when a tall mistress in black leather Batwoman get-up asked for someone who'd never been whipped and would like to try it.

It was harsher than I would have imagined, and Roberta pulled hard against the restraints holding her thin arms to their respective poles, and she moaned through her gag. As the blows rained down I saw tears flow down her cheeks and I motioned to her, as if I would come up there and get her released. She shook her head.

When it was over, this is what I saw. A profusion of red stripes, many of them raised ridges crisscrossing her back and the back of her thighs. On her butt, the individual stripes were no longer visible is the purplish red expanse, except where the skin was broken. Yet her face showed relief. I said, "You seem so tranquil. Tranquility from a whip." I made it a bit of a question, the odd conjunction.

"I was whipped as a child," she said. "and grew up scared. But here with you, it was safe. This time the pain helped free me from the darkness."

In the days after, I'd never seen her so 'up,' and after ovulation came and went, I saw no sign of depression. So, in another month's time when she again got very sullen and cranky, I said, "You need a whipping."

"Do it for me," she said. And after a couple of those sessions she let everything out. "I wanted to be a slut," she said, "of the lowest sort."

"And did you?"

"In my mind, only. But then things turned much darker. I was, in my dreams, not only used by strangers, but ..." She hesitated.

"Go on." I hugged her, then looked her in the eye.

"but treated like trash," she said, "just as the boys did in high school."

Sensing something missing, "In this case, how so?"

"Pissed on, afterwards." Her face reddened. It seemed like an amazing coincidence, though later I realized that Jessica and I had set the criteria to find someone into degradation--whether they knew it or not.

"I hope it won't take a Hell's Angels gangbang to get you past this," I said, and got a very concerned look. "You know you could get really harmed that way." She looked afraid. "I know," she said in a small voice.

All kinds of dark thoughts passed through my mind. Then it came to me. I know it sounds like self-serving bullshit, but I thought,

If she serves me, she will at least be protected; I'll see to her needs.

Moved by what she had recounted, I said, "I love you," for the first time, and I could see her melting. "You've given me some ideas about things to do. We can try to get past this."

"How?"

"I'll bring you as low as you can imagine, but it will be safe. I'm not going to hurt you." I hugged her again.

"I doesn't sound like any kinda holiday, but I trust you," she said.

"You're right. It's more what you need-- but saying that sounds like an asshole."

"No, it's what I need. You don't know all of me yet, but you know enough."

So that's when, in our whipping sessions, I started to incorporate all the 'whore' and 'slut' talk. I particularly liked to tie her across a table, bent over at the waist, her tits and torso against the surface. Her pussy would be available to the whip, and I could talk about how she wanted to peddle it to every garbageman, homeless person, and pizza boy. It was something I learned, to make the main part of the lashes hit her thighs, but cause the tips to wrap around and hit her pussy, whose lips would get very red and splay open a bit bringing further availability of its inside 'pink', to the torturing whip.

"Cunt pain," I said as she gasped at the latest blow.

When I began again, ensuring the bite of those tips on her inner labia, she screamed, "Stop!"

"Your whore's slit is burning, isn't it?" Her face, then her neck and upper chest turned bright red. I shoved two fingers up her wet hole and her body startled, then pressed down on them.

"More for that slut cunt?" She gave just the slightest nod, and I redoubled my lashing of her back thighs and blood red leaking pussy. Tears flowed down her cheeks on onto the table. I took her into my arms, after.

Jessie, of course, was kept apprised of all this,

"You're not going to get too wrapped in this girl, are you?" she said.

"Her screams really do something to me."

"I'll pass on the whips to the pussy," she said, "but if you think I need a good spanking..." She winked.

"Deal," I said. "While I like to see her in real pain, otherwise it's just... I don't know what to call it. A small compulsion." It occurred to me that she was no fool, and probably wondered if there was more. When I told her more about the whipping and all the degrading talk, she looked at me brightly. "You're making progress. I think in a few weeks, you've got a piss slave."

And so, when next Roberta hit her lows, I said that it was time for her to play out a new scene. It was the first of many, one of which I already told you. I said to her, "I will teach you how it goes. Basically I will be your Master and you will carry on your duty as piss slave." She was to know what our arrangement would be like.

"Just like in my imagination with the motorcycle gang."

'Yep, you will have all the degradation you can imagine."

"OK." She said very quietly, her look changing. I knew that look.

"Your pussy is already getting wet, isn't it."

She nodded.

"There's more you need. You'll find the bottom of this pit of degradation."

"It's where I belong. You will be with me?"

"Yes."

"I love you."

I kissed her warmly, then moved away. "So we'll start. Let the play begin. The ground rules: My cock will be your master. For you, it is going to be a source of piss. That is all you are worthy of. During our sessions, you are forbidden to speak to me when you like, but I'll give you the right to ask a question now. Address me as Master."

"Master, will I have to drink your pee?"

"Roberta, you do not have to do anything. Walk out the door now, if you like."

"I'm sorry, Master, that is not what I meant."

"You will be honored to drink me, won't you? As much as I say."

"Yes, Master."

"A slut like you will love the shame of it."

"Yes."

"That goes, too, for other cocks. Mainly you just get the piss from them; there will be no fucking unless I give permission and directions beforehand. You may ask a question."

"Will I be sucking others' cocks?"

"Perhaps. I may let you play sometimes, and that will be a special reward when I see fit. I believe this is an act of generosity not an imposition."

"Thank you, Master."

"You crave those other cocks, don't you?"

"Yes, Master."

"All in due time. First you will serve this one."

"Yes."

"When I tell you, you may play with your cunt for my amusement, and you will play exactly the way I tell you. You will come if and when I tell you. You may ask a question."

"Master, suppose I can't come that way?"

"If you've been jillin' and you're sore, or you've been cybering, I might just drop you. You are my whore. If it's just a slow day for you, perhaps a good beating will speed things up. You'll only come when you've earned it, and you will do all that I say. Think all this over and call me in two days if you are ready to proceed. The first test will be on the phone. You may go."