Megs had desperately sought a woman to dominate her in special ways. She yearned to be controlled and, with that control, to be subjected not only to depraved sexual acts, but be exposed to embarrassment and humiliation. An elegant, stylishly attired businesswoman, her hair always perfectly in place, her nails immaculately done, dressed so very precisely, Megs gave off an aura of almost over concern with the crisp and clean and tidy image of herself she presented to others
But deep down she craved the very opposite – to wallow in filth and degradation, to be transformed into a wantonly dirtied, soiled, defiled version of herself. And this is one thing about Megs that Denise found so alluring, the stark contrast between the outer woman, so elegant and presentable, and the hidden, private, inner woman, obsessed with filthy bodily functions and their shameful revelation.
For this transformation, Denise, her controller, had been well-selected. A committed lesbian, rather than a bisexual like Megs herself, she was younger than Megs. While petite and slender and deceptively feminine, Denise was immensely self-assured, effortlessly controlling. Denise could almost from the start sense, without ever being told, the nature of Megs's yearnings. They had met a few times already and Megs had been well-used by Denise, well 'topped' in the parlance of lesbians keen on dominance and submission and discipline. Memories of those nights, those spectacular sessions roiled Megs's feverish brain.
And for today, Denise promised more, much more – a descent into deep, deep filth and extraordinary degradation.
To this end, Denise had arranged for Megs to visit her in her apartment and to prepare to spend the entire afternoon and evening there. She was told to bring a fresh set of clothes with her – she'd definitely need those clothes by the time she left – and this instruction not only deeply piqued her interest, but made Megs shudder with dread, apprehension and immense arousal.
Since it was a major holiday, the small apartment building would be empty of its tenants, but for Denise and her guest. Megs asked about the relevance of that. Denise smiled at the other woman knowingly, wickedly.
"We then won't have to concern ourselves with any special sounds and, especially, any extraordinary smells," she explained mysteriously.
Megs had been instructed by Denise to make certain that both her bladder and rectum were completely full at the time of arrival, and to achieve this by avoiding urination and defecation for as long as possible before her visit. Though this was the way Megs normally dressed, she was nonetheless told, told rather ominously, to dress smartly, to arrive in her business suit, with a white cotton blouse, white stockings and underwear. She immediately guessed this would not be a session where Denise took her even further down the corridors of lesbian sex, but would be something more bizarre, something more depraved and perverted. For the day prior, she had been immensely excited and aroused, and nervous and fearful at the same time.
"What have I let myself in for?" she asked herself, "I suppose she wants to see me piss and shit."
She had once let slip to Denise her fascination with toilet acts and accidents.
On her way to Denise's, the fullness inside her, in bladder and bowels, was making her both rather desperate for relief and immensely apprehensive about just what Denise had in mind for her. The need to evacuate felt especially extreme now because Denise had instructed Megs to insert a large suppository into her rectum just before she departed her home for Denise's apartment. Her fingers had trembled when she had reached back to insert the large glycerin bullet into her anus, soon feeling its effects as it melted inside her and mixed with her stool.
When Megs arrived, she saw Denise was dressed in a black sleeveless top and baggy denim jeans - barefoot, no tights, obviously no bra, and, she supposed, no panties either. This was her style, natural and casual. She knew that under those clothes were unshaven armpits and a thick pubic bush.
Denise welcomed Megs with a warm hug, pressing her body hard against Megs's so Megs was able to feel the lesbian's erect nipples against her soft breasts, even through the layers of clothing. Then she felt a very large, hard object hidden under her jeans, pressing into Megs's skirt. This she knew was the immense dildo Denise had already used on her, several times having fucked her with a raw, furious power she would never forget.
"Yes, Ms. Jenkins, I'm already wearing my strap-on. And, by the way, you look really good today; that outfit you're wearing suits you perfectly, the 'proper' business 'lady' on the surface, but oh so very, very nasty underneath, craving unspeakable depravities and degradations, craving excruciating humiliations, isn't that right?"
Megs shuddered hearing this, blushing and nodding, the words a prelude to perversions and ordeals she was sure she'd be made to endure over many long hours.
"Now get undressed down to your undies, Megs," Denise instructed her, "and, oh, do keep on your blouse but undo the buttons." Megs did as ordered, a curious mix of respectability and wantonness animating her face and movements.
"Before we start, I really do need to go to the bathroom. And I suppose you want to watch. That's why you insisted I hold it all in until I arrived, isn't it?"
"Watch what?" Denise asked mischievously, smiling at Megs's naiveté.
Megs was so embarrassed, knowing Denise was making her say the difficult words, words which to her were somehow deeply transgressive and obscene.
"Watch as ...... I urinate .... and do .... empty my bowels," she said timidly.
"You mean piss and shit. Say it, Ms. Jenkins."
Megs felt so humiliated asked to speak those words.
"Watch as I ..... piss and ...... shit."
