P(ee) for Pleasure, P for Pain

‘Water, water everywhere, but ne’er a drop to drink’. My mind went
back over that old poem when I led a very intense session involving a
slave’s very full bladder. In the process I think I may have invented
a new form of BDSM – not so much ‘watersports’ as ‘water torture’.
This slave, let’s call him ‘PeeNis’, loves to see his mistress in
shiny, smooth latex. I duly obliged by and greeted him in my tightest,
figure-hugging cat suit, high heels and accompanying whip. Before
PeeNis could see his goddess, he had a task to fulfil – I ordered him
to put on his own latex suit and then drink two pints of water just
before he left his house. I know that he is two hours’ drive from my
dungeon. I also commanded him to stop half way, and buy another two
bottles of water, drink it down, get back in the car but absolutely
NOT to have a pee. I wanted video proof on his phone that he had done
what he was bid – drink and drink but not piss.
As you can imagine with so much water in him, by the time he got to
the Oubliette, he was bursting to go. But go he would not. Instead I
thrust a pint rubber suit into his shaking hands and ordered him to
put it on over his own latex body hugger. The sissy pink suit bear my
own initials ‘PF’ for Paris France (but could also mean Pissing
Forbidden).
Bladder full already, and aching to go, literally aching, I tied him
to the St. Andrew’s Cross in my wicked dungeon and asked him if he was
thirsty. His reply was not good enough, ‘No mistress’, he whimpered.
Wrong answer. I took his cock out of the double suit and gave it a
good hard slap. Then I repeated my question. ‘Are you thirsty?’ The
message had got home and he nodded. If only he could pee, if only he
could cross his legs! A few more harsh slaps on the cock end,
encouraged him to beg for more water. And so he drank another bottle.
I could see from his face that by now the pressure to piss was
intense. ‘What’s up, have you forgotten how to piss? Maybe Mistress
can show you’, I said laughing into his face. And so I release the
gimp from the cross, took him outside into the garden slave pit, push
him into it and proceeded to urinate all over his rubber-enclosed
body. I laughed again as my own fountain covered his worthless face.
‘Look at you, dirty boy’, I said and then took my hose and gave him a
dousing with freezing cold water. Time now I thought for milking that
shrivelled cock doing its very best not to let go its own Hoover Dam
of piss. I could see he was more than bursting to go but allow him I
would not. Instead I attached my Venus Milking Machine to PeeNis’
aching penis. It is, as you can imagine, very hard for a man’s cock to
get very hard when all he thinks about is urinating. But with the
machine fixed firmly round his bell end, pumping away powered by
electricity, he had no choice but to reach climax. I guess that when
it comes to a choice of orgasm or peeing, the body goes for the
former, well it did in the case of PeeNis slave. He shuddered in
ecstasy as his sticky load erupted into the Venus. Then I told him, he
could finally relieve himself the other way, but pissing out the water
in his bladder but not until he begged me for permission. I
reluctantly gave it after a couple of minutes of hearing his pleas,
and on my say-so, the piss gushed out of him like a fountain of Rome.
A double eruption, a Vesuvius of cum and then pee. After this his
whole body went limp with satisfaction. But his experience was not
over yet. Again I hosed him down with cold water then lead him back
to the oubliette, I then hog tied him and grabbed his hair pulling his head
right back so i had access to his mouth forcing him to drink two more litres
of water before i sent him on his way.
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My Little Pony (boys)

 

It’s every little girl’s dream to own a pony. It was certainly mine.
Well now I own at least two but with only four legs between them! They
are human pony boys and last week I took them both out to my secret
location in the woods for a spot of carriage driving. Imagine being
driven in a pony and trap pulled by a naked boy eager to pull along
his mistress and fearful of the horse whip. I, of course, was only too
happy to crack the whip. Well, a pony has to learn who’s boss. My aim
was to train the perfect little pony – one that did exactly what it
was told and obeys his mistress’ instructions to the letter. When I
say ‘giddy up’ I mean it’ when I order, ‘trot’, they trot – or else.

Well, pony boy was waiting for me in the woodland glade and little
known to him, there was a fellow slave also stark naked in the forest.
The two boys had a further surprise – the presence of the stately
domina, Mistress Serena, looking especially gorgeous in her riding
jacket and boots. She also wielded a swishy horsewhip in case either
pony misbehaved, which of course they did.

My first instruction to my pony was to put on his leather harness.
This was then attached by Mistress Serena to the ornate two-wheeled
carriage – like Boudica’s chariot. We then chained the second naked
boy to the back of the cart. Then we were ready for my ride.

I took my seat and with a sharp crack of the whip against the pony’s
back, we were off. At first pony boy was a little too slow – lots of
puffing and panting as he laboured and sweated to transport his owner.
Feeling a little let down, I barked the order to go into a trot – or
else. A few swishes of my cruel whip did the trick and pony boy got
the message written as a red welt on his shoulders. I also made it
very clear that I expected him to lift his legs and to place his arms
in a horsey position. I thoroughly enjoyed the ride which was made
even more fun by the naked boy being pulled along behind. Words and
whips of encouragement were also given by Serena whose cruel streaks
never fail to amaze even me. I had even more fun by urging my pony to
do some dressage steps. His pathetic attempts at clip-clopping his
legs made his two mistresses laugh out loud at the pathetic pony
antics. After a while, pony boy got exhausted and so we swapped
horses. Rear boy became front boy. He was a little slow at getting his
harness fixed to the cart, so we gave him a few good whacks.

Mistress Serena decided she wanted to be in the driver’s seat. The
imperious madame ordered the new pony to go into a gallop. He
constantly let her down. That really angered me. I can’t stand ponies
who won’t learn. So when the drive was over, I tied the wayward pony
(more of an ass) to a tree. I also clamped his useless nipples and
gave him a sound thrashing with a riding crop. I had the great idea to
tie his clamped nipples to the tree so that each time he flinched at
the stroke of the crop, the chains pulled ever harder on his nipples.
He cried in pain – only to elicit more laughter from his two
mistresses. We then left him tied to the tree for at least an hour
while we two mistresses had a picnic, a pitcher and a wee pee in the
undergrowth.

We felt that the ponies had been properly trained by now – more like
family pets. It’s amazing what a little horsing around can achieve.