On Display to Thousands

My luck finally ran out. I knew it wouldn’t last forever. I can’t see much from my position; the bottom of the urinal bowl blocks much of my view.  Close up I can clearly see feet and legs moving towards me. If they come from the right angle, I can somewhat see a person approaching.

Now, someone is coming towards me and its Sir Michael. No, don’t tell me my best friend is going to do this to me. Then I focus on this: it isn’t my best friend Mike, its my Dominant Sir Michael. The person I made the original deal to have me bound and abused. Mistakenly, he believes he is making me happy. This will be my third trip West where I’ve been forced to drink him. I keep coming back. Why am I like this?

He is dressed in an open leather vest and full leather pants. He comes up; slowly unzips.  I can’t see, blocked by the bowl, but I am visualizing him pulling out his oversized member, holding it, thinking about it then doing his thing into the bowl.

I heard the stream hit the porcelain and the ice, then a trickling sound. It takes just a moment for his flow to be swallowed by the bowl and discharge down the exit tube and spills into my mouth. I knew it was coming, but I still reacted in shock as it entered my mouth going towards my throat. I have been forced to drink pee before. I know its is best to just let it happen and not think, just swallow it like it’s water and deal with the taste and revolt after you get it down. Especially if there is a quantity.

But there isn’t a large quantity, and the ice has made it easier to take on. He is being decent. He sent down maybe two good squirts before stepping aside to the second urinal to finish. As he moves on, he makes a parting comment of, “You know this doesn’t do anything for me, but if this gets you off, who am I to judge, you sick puppy.”

Drinking piss doesn’t get me off, its repulsive. This is a harsh twist of my desires, implemented by others to exploit my ‘bound and forced to serve’ fantasy. My mind goes into a circular chant to get me through this: I don’t like drinking pee. I don’t want to drink pee. I’m forced to drink pee; it’s up to them’. At any time, this could turn bad, I’m told this is a big party. My bondage use fantasy becoming a wildly out of control reality.

And again, I wait. Now with a bitter taste lingering in my mouth. Bound in a contraption one would think would only be found in a bizarre fictional story. Who would ever build something like this permanently into their home? Well, Master D for one.

The next visitor is also known. It is the submissive mate of DR. D. He is also in leather, a full open body harness and heavy leather boots. His member encircled by a chrome ring that is part of the harness. He wears a sub collar too. He comes up and without fanfare pees. More of a steady stream. More than Sir Michael sent. As I swallow the first gulp, my mouth is already refilling. It takes four swallows before he is done, the fourth flowing slow.

It still wasn’t a lot, thankfully. It does make me a little queasy in my stomach, though. Again, the ice helps. They must know that. I think I hear him shake his dick as he finishes, maybe it is my imagination. And he leaves. My only solace with this visitor is I know as DR. D’s sub he has been made to drink much more pee than I ever have or will.

The ice drips are now unpleasantly flavored. The heat of the boys’ urine has accelerated the melting a little. I can hear activity out in the main dungeon. Sounds like multiple groups are having fun. Well, some are having fun, some are definitely suffering. I am glad they all seem to be busy and not taking bathroom breaks.

Again, some time passes before I receive another visit. That’s good as it allows my body to process what I have been forced to drink. My next visit is a pleasant shock. I can see coming toward me a sporty dressed man with a naked girl on a leash. As they get closer, I see he is probably my age, but she is in her mid-twenties. Attractive, petite, small breasted. She wears glasses and has a scholarly look about her. She is restrained with an inch wide chrome collar with matching inch wide chrome wrist and ankle cuffs, all connected with chrome chains, a matching leash is attached to the collar. And she is wearing a full chrome chastity assembly.

She is stood back about three feet from me and positioned so I could see all the way up to her breasts. There he unlocks the small padlock that holds her belt fast. He pulls the metal waist belt apart. I see her adjust her legs wider as he slowly pulls down the assembly so that the evil metal plugs that fill her cunt and ass holes slide out. The chastity belt is then sat on the floor right in front of me as if they want me to gaze at it. The plugs are big and gleaming.

She is brought closer to my urinal and told to squat down on the floor and open her legs wide. She does and doing so exposed her fully shaved pussy to me. It is pink, wet and lovely. She has a small silver ring piercing her clitoral hood that matches similar ring piercings through each of her nipples.

Her master then instructs her to pleasure herself. I can’t see her face to see the reaction, but she does as she is told. First using her fingers, she begins to massage and fondle her outer lips. After a minute or two, she takes her fingers and I think moistens them with her mouth and returns to her cunt, starting to massage deeper, penetrating herself. These actions start to cause quiet murmurings of joy as she proceeds.

A beautiful sexy pussy is being stimulated within two feet of my face and I can’t touch it, can’t lick it. I have a natural uncontrollable desire to fuck it. Live voyeurism. Oh my. I feel my dick get hard. This is cruel. And its wonderful. I forgot for the moment about my predicament. I’m enjoying the show. She seems to be enjoying her self-masturbation, as she has become obviously more wet. She knows I am watching her very private moment, yet she goes on undaunted. I then remember, she is doing what her master ordered.

She is at it a while when she is told to finish with her toy. And she is handed an amply sized natural looking penis vibrater. She uses it with apparent enthusiasm, rubbing it against her clit, the piercing, her pussy lips, and then plunging it deep into her wet cunt time and time again. She does this rotation many times, driving me wild. I can feel my body thrusting forward within my closet as if it was my penis she is holding.

Finally, her master barks out ‘get to your climax’ to which she concentrates on her clit with the vibrator till her whole-body shakes and she collapses to the floor. She is only down a moment when she seems to be jerked back up to her feet by her master.

I am still under my euphoria daze from the show I just enjoyed when I hear her master say, “Now, pee in the bowl.”

She is an obedient submissive and without hesitation she shuffles up to the bowl and straddles it. It takes a moment or two, but she releases her bladder. She is a trickler. When her initial drops reach me, it snaps me back to reality. There is a young woman pissing into my mouth. Her slow sweet, salty and bitter flow is easy to swallow. Mentally, its becoming a burden. My age-old battle of coming too close to a physical interaction with a woman other than my wife. By contract interpretation of my masters, this is allowed as there is no physical touching. But I am just a foot away from the girl who is using me as her personal toilet.

In time I’ll work through this, I always do. The masters will punish me for this interaction I had no control over, and I’ll be good with that as penance for me enjoying what happened. Even my current desire to lick her clean.

Her peeing takes a little time as it comes in tiny spurts. She almost seems like she is enjoying this, knowing another submissive is being abused by her actions. Maybe not, I’ll never know her true feelings of what is happening. A good thing, I guess. She finishes. I watch with glee as her chastity belt is buckled after both plugs are reinserted and they leave. Shame to cover up such a lovely pussy.

I am again left waiting for my next visit; it takes a while. Almost like they want me to dwell on my last guest and the taste she has left me. The ongoing drips from the ice keep her fresh in my mind and tastebuds.

After her, I will come to endure three male users, each making only a small deposit before shifting to the second urinal to finish up. Trapped by the neck in this hellish device, made part of the plumbing, a living septic tank, I have involuntarily serviced any customer who choose to piss here, I’ve tasted their expelled waste, felt used and repulsed by the multiple urine variations, but because of their mercy, I have not had my own system overwhelmed, something that releasing their full bladders down my throat would have caused.

This contraption was not installed for me. The owner put it in long before I got here to satisfy a personal kink. Through practice his friends have learned how to use it without causing harm to their victim. This is entertainment for them. Play that usually includes their own friends, lovers, submissives, people they wish no long-term harm. They have learned how to play hard but nicely. I am grateful, kind of. I still rather not play this game at all.

And so, I am treated with some respect, just enough to keep me healthy. And speaking of health, I remember the guidance given to me at the beginning, pee when I need to go. And after the second of the last three users, I need to go. I have never peed in a diaper. Never worn one since I was a baby. I really don’t want to, but I convince myself to get on with it. Another first, another very weird experience for me. It is warm, wet, then dry, peculiar relieving experience.