As i said in my post about becoming my Master’s piss slut, this wasn’t just a one-time thing. It continued throughout the visit.
The thing that really freaked me out is that after the first time, it remained this very potent fantasy for me. In my pre-reality imaginings, it had been tasteless and odorless, erotic and fulfilling. Reality was different (as i knew it must be). But He’d done such a good job of fetishizing this for me, of driving it deep into my brain, that i found myself returning to the fantasy over and over again as he fucked me. And that was just really disturbing if i thought about it too much.
The second time was later that same day, in the shower. i knelt on the hard tile floor, knees aching, as He pissed on my face and in my mouth. i couldn’t bring myself to swallow, and just let the piss drain out of my mouth. If He noticed i wasn’t swallowing, He didn’t mention it, for which i was very grateful. But i needed Him to do it again. If He’d stopped, after my meltdown, after my telling Him how freaked out i was by my fantasy, i would have felt that i’d failed. Instead, He reinforced the lesson, reinforced my place and my status.
i’ve written about the third time, when – after i’d served as His table – He pissed on me in the bathtub and ordered me to stay there until He was gone, wet and shaking, piss in my hair and all over me. (As i discovered as i stumbled into the shower stall, piss in the eyes stings!) He knew that by this point, i would not be horribly traumatized by it like i was the day before, that being used and left would be good for me. And He was right. i felt very owned, and very submissive.
Gradually, i grew more and more comfortable. He only pissed on me once the next day, and it made me sad when He would choose to use the toilet instead of me. i took to kneeling outside the bathroom door while He did it, and begging Him to let me clean it off afterwards. My feelings were completely in a whirlwind – at once disappointed, but also relieved, because it was so hard. But my need to be used, to be of service, to please my Master was overriding my own self-interest.
He grew more comfortable too. Early in the week, it had been difficult for Him to pee on me – a combination, i think, of the taboo nature of the act and the fact that there is an essential paradox in piss play. Which is that if it makes you too aroused, too hard, then You can’t do it! This was good – if i’d had to bear the full brunt on that first or even second attempt, i don’t know that i could have coped. But by the end of our time together, it became easier for Him too.
Our last morning i knelt once again for Him the shower stall, and He coated me with His piss. He ordered me to open my mouth, and i did. Once again, i tried my trick of letting the piss pool up and just spitting or dripping it out, but this time there was no getting away with that. On his command, i closed my lips around His cock, and drank from Him. Afterwards i enjoyed His hands on me, and His words of “good girl,” always so thrilling to me.
As a postscript, i wanted to say that, in this as in all other things, my Master was supremely caring and loving. He usually takes a complicated vitamin regimen daily, and He told me during our visit that He’d stopped taking them 4 days beforehand so that i wouldn’t have to cope with even nastier taste and high acidity from Vitamin C! Also, after the very first time, when I couldn’t find my toothbrush anywhere, He let me use His to clean my mouth out. If that isn’t proof that He loves me, then i don’t know what is.