The following story contains watersports and is a continuation, by popular demand, of a story of consensual sex which some readers may find somewhat extreme. Please rate and comment as feedback is very welcome! I hope you enjoy and suggest you seek out the first part if you have not come across it yet.
***
The icy cold of the tiles beneath Beth had numbed her backside to an unfeeling lump of meat below her spine. Her legs, encased as they were in sheer black stockings, were slightly warmer as they lay sprawled on the floor in front of the toilet. Her shoulder blades had begun to ache from resting against the ceramic bowl behind her head for the hour or so she had sat in the pitch black downstairs bathroom, her hands fastened to the u-bend by the thick fabric of a tie without any slack to give her distance from the piping each time she shuffled with discomfort.
There was no window in the downstairs water-closet and the light switch was beyond the closed door. Even had the bare bulb above her head been on, Beth would still not have been able to see her surroundings due to the thick black fabric of the blindfold Rick had fastened over her eyes. She would not have been able to regard herself sprawled in front of that mundane white throne, her black stocking-sheathed legs in front of her, her arms pinned firmly behind her, her milky-white flesh exposed to the icy air of the barely furnished room.
She could feel the sigh of a cold draft brush her naked body, feel the goose-flesh puckering her skin, turning her nipples into hard bullets of arousal, peaking firmly from her large breasts thrust forward into the darkness.
It was near silent, the only sound an occasional, echoing drip in the cistern behind her or a creaking floorboard somewhere else above as her husband shifted in his office chair.
Despite the cold and the discomfort, or rather because of it, she could feel her juices running from her uncovered pussy, warm and smelling sweetly tangy on the air.
There was a burning desire between her legs, and not only the one that patiently waited for some eventual abuse. Over the last half-hour or so, her bladder had gradually been mounting a protest which she had, with delight, been suppressing. The need to relieve herself was building to such a level that waves of desperate pain were now radiating from her lower abdomen and she knew that soon she'd have to answer the call of nature despite her inability to move. The dripping wasn't helping at all nor was the presence of the pool of water sat behind her head.
She licked her lips at the delicious displeasure and contemplated her husband's reaction to finding her sitting in the inevitable pool of her own fluid.
A few more minutes went by and Beth knew that it wasn't going to be possible any longer to hold in the deluge her body was screaming at her to release. With a long sigh in the darkness, she relaxed her muscles and lowered her barriers. There came a hissing sound from below and gradually her backside warmed as a pool of piss spread beneath her. She could feel the initial jets of pee spatter her thighs before the stream subsided to a slow leak, wetting the floor around the toilet, before all her water was released and Beth was left sitting in a quickly cooling puddle of her own pee.
Sighing contentedly, and letting loose a mischievous giggle as she slid a little in the water, Beth closed her eyes beneath the blindfold and reflected on the chain of events that had led to this evening where she sat bound and ready for her master's abuse to commence.
***
Rick had been a little reticent to talk about that night for a few weeks after. Despite her gratitude and delight at what they had finally indulged in, Beth sensed a lingering guilt or shame on her husband's part for what she had induced him to do to her. She knew, however, how much he'd enjoyed himself; his rock hard cock that night could testify to nothing else. His prudishness of before was clearly a suppression of his true desire and Beth knew that now that they had crossed that boundary, they could never go back.
She couldn't go back.
For so many years she had fantasised about being taken the way he had taken her and when he finally had, he'd managed to surprise her with some dirty additions of his own. There was no way she was going back to the banality of the missionary position after she'd finally got her wish to be degraded in the way she'd always dreamed.
But she knew better than to rush him; far better to let him consider that night on his own and, when he was ready, they'd talk it over and she was confident she could talk him round to fucking her again in such a fashion. She'd waited long enough for the first time; she could wait a little while for the second, she told herself.
A month passed, however, and Beth found herself becoming sexually starved. She wanted to respect her husband's needs but after that intense experience she found she could think of little else. At work, she discovered that she kept drifting off, unable to focus on the screen before her face. Colleagues noticed and kept asking her if she was alright. She would blush at their earnest faces; no doubt they were worried that she had some terrible malady- depression or illness or both; if only they knew the cause of her distraction!
She'd tried masturbating to relieve the pressure, to expel the lust. Long baths with her hand between her legs just wouldn't cut it though. She needed something more, something extreme enough to keep her satisfied. It was just too much and Beth resolved to up the ante a little with her self-satisfaction to try and approximate that sensation of release she'd had with her head down the toilet that sensational night.
Across the street from the glass and steel edifice that housed the secretarial humdrum of her day-to-day boredom, was a shop with blacked-out windows and a flickering neon sign that spelled 'XXX'. For several years, Beth had wondered what could be found beyond the peeling paint of its front door, what devices and material could lay inside to bring reality to sordid fantasy. She'd never summoned the courage to step beyond that door however, and had had to content herself with the odd glance at some red satin curtains through the crack formed when the occasional desperate-looking man entered or left the shop's confines.
Today was different. Today Beth would step into that world and find for herself something to bring some relief to her sex-starved body. Several times that morning she caught herself nervously tapping her pen on the edge of her desk, watching the minute hand pass ever so slowly across the white clock face on one wall of the shared office as she waited for the lunch break. Finally it came and she grabbed her purse and made for the lift.
***
Beth glanced about her as she stood before the door to the sex shop. She fervently hoped that no one from work would see her as she stole furtively into its interior. The door set off a harsh electronic buzzer and she hastily closed it behind her.
She turned to face the inside of the shop she'd fantasised about entering for so many years and was slightly disappointed. Racks lined one wall from which a variety of cheap-looking outfits hung encased in transparent plastic covers. Shelves stood against another displaying overpriced DVDs and some fetish furniture was set up in the middle of the room. It was all a bit predictable and Beth sighed with anti-climax. Still, she was sure what she sought could be purchased somewhere in this sordid den and made for the till.
Behind the glass-topped cabinet that served as a desk, on which sat a battered electronic till, a bestubbled man with greasy hair eyed her with mild surprise, a lustful sneer stretching his features. It wasn't often he had young women enter his shop alone, especially ones dressed in grey pencil skirts and jackets.
Beth ignored him and surveyed the interior of the glass desk in which lay the objects of her quest that day. A myriad of plastic and metal phalluses sat beneath the glass. Some were smoothly formed approximations; others were moulded recreations of veined cocks. Some were double pronged and her breath caught as she considered their use.
She licked her lips and spoke to the shop owner without meeting his leering gaze.
"Could I..." she began hoarsely, then cleared her throat and tried again. "Could I have a look at that one please?"
