5 cans of shaving foam.
5 cans of whipped cream.
3 litres of ready mixed custard.
2 tubs of ice cream.
Chocolate sauce.
Stephen bought the items requested by the young dominatrix, and Anne-Marie had offered to take them to her house. He noticed she purchased a lot of similar items, along with a more usual weekly shopping, but was too embarrassed to ask what he thought her niece had planned.
Anne-Marie voiced her thoughts as she drove from the supermarket, past the end of Stephen's road. "I think me telling Victoria where I am going tomorrow with Mistress Spanx has given her ideas. Make sure you bring a spare set of clothes with you."
"OK," Stephen muttered, and Anne-Marie put her hand on his knee as she stopped the car, just before the T-Junction.
"Don't be embarrassed. I've seen it all before. Although, I have seen more of you than any other of Victoria's... friends. She's a lovely girl, deep down. Just..."
"Yeah, she's wonderful," Stephen interrupted and blushed. "I wish I'd known her sooner." Anna-Marie coughed to hide her sniggering as the young man left the car and traversed the path to his house in the twilight.
He took Anne-Marie's advice and after he returned home from work; he got changed, made a quick dinner, put a spare pair of clothes in his backpack and walked to Victoria's home.
Anne-Marie's car was not in the drive. He heard music and noise from the garden, and called over the six-foot garden gate instead of pressing the bell.
Victoria was bottomless; she flung open the gate and cocked her head at the startled man, eyeing her toned legs and hairless cunt. She sniggered and swigged cider from the can. "Come in."
He recognised the two other ladies in the garden, both naked. Susie was a short, fiery Londoner, who spoke with a trace of Cockney in her voice. She had dyed her strawberry-blonde hair and had pierced her nipple and belly-button. Underneath the common exterior was a smart, studious girl. She had a place at Bristol University to study nursing, waiting for her.
Niamh Adjei was from Croydon; she was a tall, leggy, powerful girl who had aspirations of making it in Women's Football. Her espresso skin was tightly wrapped around muscles across her body and she sniggered as he entered the garden.
"Niamh's on the vodka and Diet Coke, I'm on the cider, and Susie is on the Bacardi Breezers," Victoria said and gestured to the open kitchen door. "You have pizzas and party food to cook. Take your shoes and socks off."
"Just my shoes and socks?"
"Yeah, keep your shirt, shorts and knickers on," she teased.
"OK." He waited for more instruction, but none came and he walked into the kitchen, piled with dirty plates on the worktop, to see a pile of uncooked food on the counter. Stephen tidied and cleaned the room while the food cooked.
Victoria held out a cider to him when he put the last of the trays on the table, and he hesitated. "Don't you want a drink?" She asked, with a mischievous glint in her eye. He nodded and thanked her. As he held out his hand, she took it away and put it back in the bucket of ice by her feet. The girls laughed cruelly.
Keeping eye contact with him, she picked up a pink plastic beaker and stood up from the chair. She squatted, pushed the beaker between her legs, and released her bladder. Stephen's eyes widened as the liquid hit the inside of the camping cup. The girls squealed in excitement as she held it out to him. "There's your drink. Fresh cider. Say thank you."
"Thanks," he muttered and took the warm cup from her. They waited for his next move.
"Now drink it."
His eyes widened. Victoria glared at him and she licked her lips. His hands shook as he brought the cup of her urine to his mouth. His heart jumped, his cock strained against the cage.
Susie hollered. "He's not, is he? He is? He fucking is? How mental is that?" They watched the car-crash moment as Stephen took a deep breath and gulped at the drink.
Stephen had read stories of female dominatrixes forcing slaves to swallow their piss, and he knew that the quicker the acrid fluid is drunk the better. He tried to do the same, and was grateful that Victoria's liquid consumption had been considerable that evening to dilute the foul pungency of her lightly coloured pee.
He drained the cup and had to resist the urge to throw up as the taste registered with his brain. The caustic flavour was revolting and his body reacted in disgust at the sudden flood of liquid waste entering his stomach. "Good boy," Victoria simpered and patted him on the head. "My aunt told me I had to do the gardening today as she had the fertiliser delivered, so guess what you are doing?"
"Of course," he replied with his stomach still heaving, and she gestured to the flowerbeds around the garden.
"Go weed them." Stephen strode to the shed, got a bucket and knelt down over the first bed, warmed by the setting sun in the cloudless sky. He could taste the remnants of Victoria's piss in his mouth as he pulled at the weeds which covered the beds between the flowers. He could hear the filthy chatter and laughter from the chairs in the centre of the lawn, as they ate the party food and drank alcohol. Victoria summoned him after twenty minutes, "All that hard work so far, you must be thirsty." He eyed her as she took his pink cup and passed it to the black athlete. Victoria clicked her fingers. "Are you?"
"I... I... Yes, Victoria."
"Then ask Niamh to let you have a drink."
Stephen blushed bright red as he asked the black footballer to urinate for him.
Niamh flicked her braids from her face, and squatted, holding the cup against the black fuzz of her cunt, and filled it two-thirds full. Victoria raised her eyebrows at him. "Thank you," he said when Niamh passed it to him, and he took a deep breath and downed the biting liquid.
His stomach rebelled, squirming and belching, as it wanted to expel the astringent fluid entering it, but Stephen maintained control with deep breaths. He put his cup on the floor and returned to his flowerbeds. Niamh's piss had a harsher, more acidic flavour than Victoria's pee. Fifteen minutes later, Victoria gave him a cup of water, and then fifteen minutes after that, Susie filled the cup for him.
Her urine was sweeter, and more delicate on the nose, but she squealed in delight as the "piss drinker" swallowed her waste. Five cups of pee and two cups of water, Stephen needed the toilet. "No, of course you can't go," Victoria snapped when he asked. "Go water the garden. And use a can not a hosepipe."
The sound of the water filling the plastic watering can was a mental torture, as the pressure on his bladder increased. He squirmed in discomfort, eager to run to the toilet and release the stored piss. "Here, have another," Victoria called and passed him the overflowing pink cup.
"I really need to go."
"Have another drink," Victoria demanded and passed him the cup full of steaming, warm urine. "Guess who provided it to you?"
His cheeks blushed as he thanked her and drank the foul-tasting liquid. "You, Victoria," he guessed, and Victoria smirked.
"He's getting to know what my piss is like," she giggled. "OK, hanging baskets need watering and then you need to do the trees and bushes."
