On Display to Thousands

Like before, my gag is removed for a rest at the top of the hour, and I am again given water along with an energy bar. I’m grateful, but with my regular watering and my system being jarred into remission every five minutes, I need to pee again. I know they are not going to let me down, so I resign myself to peeing in front of hundreds of people walking by and others watching exactly what I am doing.

I get it done, though I know I didn’t go much. I am cheered as the bottle if pulled away by DR. D’s sub/mate. Above the noise I hear someone yell out, “I’ll donate $100 if you make him drink it.” Oh shit.

There is a momentary pause, and Master D answers back, “Make it $200 and we have a deal.”

I hopeful this guy is at his limit, when I hear someone else call out, “I’ll add the second $100.” I’m screwed.

“Deal. Come over to the side. We will need a little change in the setup.”

A couple minutes pass. I go through another zapping. Master D and a guy that I saw earlier that was associated with the vender stand mount the stage. They stand in front of me and have a new boxed toy with them, which they show to me.

The vender guy says to Master D, as he wouldn’t be talking directly to me, “We just started carrying these a week or two ago, what perfect timing. And get this, we had a choice of colors and decided out of all the colors to order a case of pink ones. It’s made by Oxballs WATERSPORT. They make quality functional stuff.”

“This strap on urinal is shaped to fit and can’t leak. The mouth-tube is part of the urinal which is deep and wide with a channel that funnels directly into the mouthpiece. The urinal is lighter and doesn’t have a big clunky funnel and tube to deal with like the traditional ones. It straps around the head tight. It’s much different than your set up at home but we ordered them knowing you and your mate’s kink and other customers for piss-play. We haven’t tried it yet ourselves, so let’s see.”

(Note, I didn’t recall all these details as the conversation was quick, so I checked out Oxballs online as I transcribed my journal so my reporting would reflect what was said and depict its features.)

The new toy’s mouthpiece is pushed into my mouth and seated over my teeth and around my lips, then strapped on. They both depart, then Master D reappears with whom I guess is one of the contributors. He hands him my urine bottle and tells him to go ahead and pour half of it in. The crowd that now circles the stand and has grown over the past few minutes is cheering him on as the pour is made. It flows immediately into my mouth. I have no other course of action but to swallow. I wish they had ice, warm piss, even if its your own is disgusting. I’m a bit strong today. I’m later told that it’s probably because my kidneys are still processing the urine I drank yesterday. I’m now going to process my own for the third time.

The gentleman turns around to the crowd, lifts up the bottle and takes a bow. His fellow patron mounts the stage to administer my second drink. These guys are all performers. Hence the many crazy outfits many of the visitors are wearing. He is heavily into leatherware. He raises the urinal up high and slowly pours my pee into the collector cup, prolonging the flow into my mouth making we swallow three times to get it down. The total amount was not that much, but certainly more than a sip.

It was a big money maker. Master D left the toy in my mouth till the next changeover a good half hour later. I was fearful the whole time that someone watching would offer their own piss for me to drink for a sizable donation. I know that urine is supposed to be germ free and won’t support STDs and HIV, but still, I don’t want that to happen.

Added new to the floggings, striping, fondling, and other dubious but profitable activities for this latest hour was the allowance of the audience to come on stage for a donation to run a Wartenberg pinwheel over my exposed body parts. Not surprising the favorite areas were my nipples, pecs, cock and balls.

With the ball stretcher removed, at least two different men felt find with grabbing my balls and stretching them tight before aggressively running the multi wheels over my bag. None of which I could personally observe do the tutu skirt hiding their fun.

The final hour also included adding clothespins to my nipples, then subjecting them to whipping with the rider crop to knock them off. The supporters must stand in front of the stage, but with the riding crop’s long handle I am easily reached. They get three tries to knock off a clothespin, for a modest donation of $10. Always trying to keep their customers happy, if they knock the pin off with less than three hits, they tell them to go and take another swat at anything they want. Most of the time it was that same sore nipple. Or of course, my balls or cock.

All good things must come to an end. And the fund raiser portion for me is done. Wanting to end it with a crescendo, these pricks first pump up my butterfly gag, then ramp up the electro plug even higher and run it for five full minutes till I am near convulsions, my begging to stop completely muffled. The audience applauded and cheered the entire time I performed my final pole dance much to the delight of my assembled masters. I don’t know who’s sicker, the guy that allowed himself to be put here to be abused, the dudes who conceived and executed this twisted exhibition or the thousands who have gleefully watched in amazement.