I was kneeling on the floor, naked -- while I listened to my Master move around the room. As usual, he moved unhurriedly, with no sense of urgency as I waited for him to acknowledge my presence. This seemed to have become a sort of protocol -- so imagine my surprise when I felt the stroke of his hand against my cheek -- instead of the weight of his dick against my tongue.
My eyes were closed when he entered the room, not at his request, and not because I felt that it gave more of an impression of demureness -- but because I found this particular act a bit humiliating and always seemed to instinctively close my eyes against the feelings of shame. Master's unexpected touch startled me so much that I pulled away, simultaneously closing my mouth and opening my eyes. I corrected quickly, leaning towards him again and opening my mouth. With some difficulty, I kept my eyes open and looked up at him.
Wearing a slightly bemused expression, he just looked at me, then extended his hand, as though to help me rise and said, "We're going to try something a bit different today."
Well this is intriguing, I thought to myself, rising and following him as he led me out of the room. I tamped down my anxiety as I saw that he'd quickly stepped into the bathroom and switched on the overhead lights.
"Kneel, my pet." He murmured huskily, and I quickly acquiesced.
He quickly continued.
"It's been a while since I've allowed you to drink my piss. For reasons that we've discussed and for the most part, agree with. But I'm sure you will also agree that it's not reasonable for me to deny myself something you can and should easily submit to." Master paused and looked at me, thoughtfully, before continuing, "For that reason alone -- please know, that I CAN piss down your throat today or any other day."
I tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a nervous swallow and Master chuckled.
"Ah... my anxious little slut is already anticipating swallowing my piss." Master didn't joke around a lot and unfortunately, I didn't find this situation humorous at all. But apparently, he wasn't done speaking yet. He plowed on.
"I don't owe you any explanations -- any more than I'd explain to a pen or pencil, why I'm using it in a particular way, because YOU -- are an object and a possession of mine to be used in any way I see fit," Master paused at this point and I felt him direct his steely gaze down at me, then continued, "Don't you agree?"
"Yes, Master," I mumbled. I was in complete misery. I was kneeling on this cold, unforgiving tile floor. And the temperature in the bathroom was icy. Master had subjected me to water sports before, but it had been years ago. And while I enjoyed watching it in movies. And I enjoyed the times I'd submitted to it with him, I wasn't crazy about the overwhelming sense of shame and self-deprecation that followed for days afterwards.
But the biggest barrier at this point was each prior time Master had pissed in mouth, he'd beaten, whipped or fucked me beforehand.
In previous sessions, Master had started by subjecting me to all manner of impact play and debauchery at the session's onset, so much so that by the time he introduced piss, I'd been a trembling, shivering mass of wanton, willingness. I absolutely could not imagine opening my mouth and guzzling Master's urine while I was in this highly UNaroused, esoteric mind state.
But... I didn't know how to tell Master 'No.' I didn't WANT to tell Master, 'No.' I tried to think back to the last time I'd refused to obey Master.
And I couldn't.
Had I ever told him 'No?'
He'd stood there silently, the entire time I continued to kneel there, dealing with this insane, internal dialogue flitting around inside my head -- but I knew that I couldn't just genuflect, indefinitely, hoping he'd change his mind.
"Master," I started, "I don't think..."
I stopped, almost choking on the words.
"Master," I tried again, "I don't think I can."
And as I uttered the last syllable, I looked up at him -- into his dark and handsome face. I looked at him because I wanted him to see my earnestness and understand the complete misery I felt, at not being able to comply.
Master looked at me and aside from a slight, fleeting tightening around his mouth -- it was as though I hadn't spoken.
He extended his hand again, and I grasped at it as though I'd been thrown a life-line.
He turned and exited the bathroom and I followed. At the bedroom door, he paused and stepped aside, allowing me to enter first. I walked forward a few steps, then began to position myself to kneel, but Master stopped me.
"No," he wrapped his hand around my forearm and guided me back up, "Get on the bed."
Well this was completely unexpected and I'm sure my face registered surprise and confusion, but Master made no attempt to explain.
I crawled on to the bed and positioned myself on all fours.
"No," Master said again. His tone was quiet and detached. "Lie on your back."
I lowered myself to the bed and turned over so that I was lying on my back as he'd ordered. I heard the crackling of a condom wrapper and without thinking about it, I'd raised up on both elbows in disbelief. Master was going to fuck me now?!
Without allowing me to worship his cock or indulging in any impact play? This was unheard of.
I watched him walk over to me. He got in the bed next to me, rubbing my breasts briefly before positioning himself on top of me. My pussy was wet because I'd masturbated beforehand (another part of the protocol), so he had no trouble entering me. He started to fuck me with steady, measured strokes. I was in such shock that I was nearly immobilized. At some point, I realized that I was just lying there -- so I reached up to touch Master's nipples. He immediately brushed my hands away, not angrily, in fact, his face and actions were completely without emotion, it appeared to be more of a stoic response.
Slowly, tears started to leak from my eyes. I didn't know exactly why I was crying.
Was it because I felt bad for disappointing Master?
I opened my eyes and looked at Master. He said nothing.
But he stopped fucking me.
Then he deliberately moved his arm toward me, fisting his left hand in my hair. Then he used his right hand to slap me across the face. I felt my cheek redden. He slapped me again, harder. He was still inside me and I felt my pussy muscles tighten. Master felt it as well. He lowered himself back down, pressing his length further inside me and tightening his grip on my hair.
I felt his mouth against my ear, but it was moment before he spoke.
"Do you know why you're crying?" He paused, "Or are you too stupid? Or is that you're in complete denial?"
I had no idea what to say, and I wasn't sure if these were rhetorical questions, so I said nothing.
Master pushed himself back up and slapped me across the face again.
"No Master, I don't know why I'm crying," I blubbered, "I think it's because I feel bad about disappointing you."
Master let go of my hair and pushed away from me. I looked at his dick -- the condom shiny with evidence of my arousal, but quickly ducked my head.
"Get your collar and your leash." Master ordered quietly.
I quickly moved towards the closet and got the instruments he'd requested.
It had been a long time since he collared or restricted me in any way, but his movements were quick and precise. Once the collar was secure, he rolled his wrist, shortening the leash and tugged me towards him. I was on my knees, but with my torso upright, instead of completely prostrate. As per usual, my eyes were closed.
"Look at me." He ordered. His tone was calm and quiet, but there was no mistaking the fact that this was an order. I looked up at him.
Master spit in my face. My hand twitched, but I was able to resist the urge to wipe the spittle away. I was, however, not unable to hide the cringe of disgust I felt.
Master spit on me again. My hand didn't budge this time, but still I felt the tell-tale cringe.
Once again, Master spit in my face. How the hell was he producing this much saliva?
I wondered, albeit briefly, because this last onslaught was followed up by a slap that almost toppled me over.
"Present your breasts to me." Master ordered.
My breasts were already exposed, but I knew what this meant. I lifted my breasts and squeezed them, leaning my body toward him. He slapped one breast, then the other and kept this up until I involuntarily leaned away from him. He used the leash to pull me back towards me and increased his efforts.
Once he saw my breasts start to redden, he jerked the leash downwards, forcing me on all fours. He took the belt from the door and started to whip me mercilessly.
Every time I tried to pull away from him or maneuver myself away from the belt, he used the leash to drag me back into position.
I was screaming and sobbing to such a degree that it took me a moment, to realize that Master was speaking to me.
"I asked you question before and you answered incorrectly." He raised his voice to make sure I heard him, but he didn't yell. "Are you ready to try again?"
I lay there on the floor, trying to catch my breath and organize my thoughts.
"I'll help you, my pet." Master sighed, "Because you're a dumb slut and I'm a generous Master."
"Thank you, Master," was my sad attempt at contributing to this exchange. I moved from my prone position and kneeled but kept my torso upright.
