Warning
This just like part one is a departure from my usual writing, if scat is not your thing then please don't read further.
Pete had packed his case with all the relevant gear that Leather Master Paul demanded on the Sunday evening and he left on the first plane in the morning for the short flight over, it was a gloriously sunny day and delightful trip, or at least it would have been if Pete could have concentrated at all. His mind was spinning.
To say that Pete was barely there in spirit in the mornings meetings was an understatement, he simply couldn't concentrate at all. The minutes and hours were moving so slowly, but the prospect of a true brown baptism, scared him to his very core.
How in the hell could he go through with this, but then again the cost of backing out would be so extreme and he couldn't cope with that. He just felt like he was in too deep and had to find a way to go ahead.
After the most boring meeting he could ever remember he said goodbye to his work colleagues and walked out onto the street, hailing a cab as quickly as he could, jumping in the back seat he said, "The Museum hotel please."
He was so thirsty, but as he wasn't allowed water, he only had his drink bottle filled with his own warm piss for quenching his thirst. At least it wasn't as strong as it had been first thing that morning. He took a few swigs, knowing that his breath would stink, but there was nothing he could do about that.
Only four minutes later he was dropped off, at least he was early and he'd requested an early check in, earlier that day to make things easier.
He'd always enjoyed staying at the Museum hotel, he loved the slightly gaudy opulence of it. He walked up to check in and admired the petite brunette behind the counter, she was cute, nice heavy thighs and the idea of her bent over crossed his mind. "Hi Sam, can I check in please, Pete Johnson." He was careful not to breathe on her, worried she'd detect the reek of piss on his breath.
"Hello Mr Johnson, great to have you back to stay with us again, we were somewhat overbooked and as you often stay with us the manager has upgraded you to an apartment suite with a lovely view of the bay and harbour."
"That's so kind thanks, that will be lovely." The quick fantasy of him fucking her faded as he realised that the only one who was going to get fucked that day was him.
After the necessary forms were signed, Pete walked as fast as he could to the elevator and got in, pressing the 6th Floor. He was breathing heavily now, his face flushed at the thought of what was to come, anticipation affecting him more than he thought possible. He reached into his backpack and took out the bottle of poppers he'd brought with him, appropriately titled Fist, he needed this right now, he upcapped the bottle held one nostril closed and sniffed deeply, his face reddening and his mind spinning just as the lift stopped and the doors opened on the floor below him and a older guy got in.
"You ok, you look really flushed."
"Yeah, um yeah I'm fine thanks, just been hurrying to get here."
"Ahh on promise are you, you lucky bugger."
"Yeah you could say that, certainly on some sort of promise."
"Well make sure you enjoy yourself."
"I'll try thanks."
The lift stopped and Pete smiled and got off, the guy exiting too and happened to have the room next to Petes.
"The rooms are great, you enjoy."
"Thanks I will." Pete thought it was unusual for the guy to be so forward, but then it dawned on him, if the guy knew much about poppers and recognised the aroma in the lift, he very well might have realised that's what Pete was on. Ohh well thought Pete, nothing he could do about that now.
Entering the room he smiled at the artwork, an old guys face looking down at the floor almost as if he had a submissive in front of him, who he was regarding with disdain. Pete realised that he might be over interpreting it, in having that thought.
He locked the door, opened his overnight bag on the bed and started to lay out all his gear. It was 1.22, thank god he still had time. He stripped with the eagerness of a teenage boy about to get laid for the first time and he felt as ready as he ever was going to be.
His cage had slid round to the left so he rearranged his small clit (as Mistress insisted he refer to it as) and pulled his slightly fuzzy ball sack deeper into the cock cage ring.
Pete put his computer on the bed and knelt down in front of it, ready for the next stage.
At 1.30 precisely his messaging app Kik rang for a video call and he answered straight away. He could see Leather Master Pauls leather clad chest and black leather pants, but not his face. Pete thought he could discern a bulge already in Leather Master Pauls trousers. Pete shivered at the thought of serving.
"Well hello pig, don't you look ripe for the eating, how are you feeling pig?"
"Very nervous Leather Master Paul, very nervous indeed and scared Leather Master Paul."
"No need pig, but I accept that's how you feel, so let us get you more relaxed and in the mood what spirits have you got there?"
"I brought vodka Master as I thought it would be the easiest to drink."
"Good pig, now go and get the closest thing to a large shot glass you can find."
Pete crawled away into the kitchen, hoping that this little act of submission would please Leather Master Paul and he found a small water glass in the kitchenette, not perfect, but it would do. He crawled back to the bed with the glass held in his mouth.
"Good pig, now let us get you relaxed, get a shot of vodka in there, put the glass rim between your teeth and rock your head back, no hands."
Pete did as he was told and took the first shot. "Now another 3 pig, let's get you off to a good start."
Pete did as he was ordered, starting to feel a little woozy after the fourth shot.