This Christmas was our first with only Amanda and me, and some friends coming round later in the evening coming round for a drink. Amanda asked me what I wanted to be for Christmas, whether I wanted to be her girlfriend (and lover and friend), her toilet or her slave. And I had said that it was my wish to be a little of all three, though the former first and foremost, probably.
First thing Christmas morning, whilst still in bed, she ordered me to go down on her, and with wham playing on the speaker I tongue fucked her cunt until she came all over my face. Then, with a wet face, that she kissed and laughed and smiled at, I was honoured with her fingers, working their magic on my by-order-bald twat, though I was not to cum, and was forced to instead endure several minutes of edging before being kicked out.
I was informed that I was not to dress all day, alone, with company, or in any other situation that I might find myself.
Once in the living room, she dressed up smartly and me as just described, I opened up my presents, the first of which was a set of four baubles, big glass snowglobes with pictures of me performing unspeakable things.
'I thought they might look nice on the tree,' she said, 'with guests coming round later as well.' And blushing with predictive embarrassment I placed then on the tree, as publicly as possible, for I knew anything else would not be well received.
She also bought me a sort of funnel thing, with an orange rubber tube attached, that looked like something from a victorian science lab.
'Amanda,' I said, laughing, 'what the fuck is this?'
'You piss in it, and...' she paused - 'I'll show you, see. Close your eyes dear. Anything in the tank?'
She prodded my stomach, and indeed I did need to go, having not yet that morning.
She placed the funnel over my cunt, and I pissed, my eyes closed tightly, though I had sort of worked it out by then where the piss was going. The piss hit my face and I heard my tormenter laugh uproariously. I opened my mouth, thinking it desired, but found her to have no interest in that, happily drenching my face and hair and tits instead.
Once finished she told me that I could use it for drinking later. 'What's a bit of mess anyway. We've got someone to clean it up after all.' She laughed again, nudging me, her cleaner.
'It's a shame they don't tattoo tongues, I could get mop on yours!' She said, spitting on my pissdrenched face. The saliva slipped down my chin and onto my tits. She smiled at its funny meander down my nakedness
My presents to her were boring and girlfriendy. She loved them. And the rest of the morning was painfully romantic and boring as hell, for you I assume anyway. I remained naked, as per the rules, and we watched some Christmas TV and had champagne and such.
'Now,' she said, 'the local is open for a bit, and I thought a drink might be nice, see the neighbours and such, but I'm only going to let you put on a coat and some shoes.'
'Can I maybe have a shower first?'
'You've had a shower, no?'
'But won't I...?'
'Perfume. You can have a splash of that. Though I think you smell smashing'
I took the perfume. And put on a long coat. Hoping that I wasn't revealing too much, or smelt too badly of my own piss.
However, just before we left Amanda told me she needed a shit. And on the floor of the hall I laid down and opened my mouth allowing my girlfriend to dump a firm Christmas log into my mouth. She assured me that my teeth were not brown, though I knew my breath stank. And then we left.
In the pub Amanda insisted we sat on the high stools, presumably as they would reveal some of my body to anyone trying to look. I swished the beer around my mouth desperate not to reveal my identity as a human toilet to any of the locals in the pub.
Agatha came over to say hi.
This woman has used me, a week or two ago, when Amanda invited her over for a drink.
After a few minutes of chatting Amanda told me to tell Agatha what I was wearing. Agatha was excited to hear of my sluttiness and placed her hand on my thigh. My legs remained tightly closed, in fear of exposure. Until I looked up at my mistress, and reluctantly parted them to allow in Agatha's hand, understanding Amanda's 'don't fuck with me' stare.
Amanda asked Agatha is she wanted to come back to the flat, and though she said that she'd love to had to turn down the offer: 'family requirements.' It was arranged that she'd come in the new year and 'give her a proper go on'.
She then headed off to the toilet, pulling her hand from my leg and placing a wet finger that had almost been inside of me into my mouth for a quick suck clean before going.
'I like her,' said Amanda. And I agreed that I did too, though distinctly remembered her piss being vile and her cunt being rather unwashed. I was starting to feel a little exposed. I closed my knees again, quietly and timidly, sure that someone from across the way must have been my bush.
Agatha made me feel dirty. A proper dyke, as Emily would say, the right mix of erotic and debased. Though proper dykes are allowed to shower surely.
She came back from the toilet and placed a half filled plastic bottle on the table. 'I hope this is OK. Took a bit of a risk I guess. Tell me to fuck off if you want,' she said, to Amanda, very clearly.
Amanda said that it was. And said 'Go on,' to me.
I picked up the bottle. It had a top that you sucked on, like lucozade, or a baby's milk bottle, and from it I sucked Agatha's still warm piss. Which was as grim as I remembered it being, though at least I wasn't subjected to her smelly labia.
She laughed. They both did. And I almost cried from the humiliation. Sure that everyone else in the room knew what I was doing. And were secretly laughing along.
I sucked the piss out of the bottle imagining it was a cunt, because that would be better, somehow, just - though not Agatha's cunt, of course. Once I'd finished she wished us a happy Christmas and winked and left.
We returned home and had our lunch, romantically, as equals. Aside from my still being naked. We had crackers and even did a bit of charades. Afterwards we did the dishes and listened to Christmas music. It was all very wholesome and romantic.
Our guests were due over at six, which gave us an hour, during which Amanda said she wanted to fuck me, or rather to use me for her entertainment.
But first I needed a shit. Which I had done all dinner and had refrained from mentioning, but then felt the need to, content with whatever horror Amanda might invent for me.
'You can hold that in for now slut, yes?'
'Yes mistress.' I conceded.
She took off her clothes and sat on the sofa and had me on my knees between her legs ready to eat her out. This is not an unusual turn of events, but I still relished the opportunity to once again suck my mistress's clit, kissing and tonguing her rigorously, as i had done only that morning. Eventually she came on my face, shouting nasty things at me, which she likes to do as she cums, or as I cum, though she cums far more often. In fact, there are people who don't live here who cum here more often that I do!
And speak of the devil, with Amanda still panting, and holding my face against her cunt - face and cunt both dripping - the doorbell went.
'Who is it?' Amanda shouted.
'Who the fuck dyou think?' Samantha shouted back.
