Punished Piss Drinker by Master Ivan

[mrivan]

Punished Piss Drinker

by Master Ivan

I met her at a scene party at one of the better clubs in the area. She was a black woman, with a deep chocolate complexion, the body of a wrestler and an attitude which screamed “Don’t mess with me” in neon lights. She was dressed to kill in the best fetish clothes, no doubt coming from a private designer. To judge her as anything but a Domme would be foolish from her outside appearance.

My contact with her was challenging, defiant, a fencing contest for both sides in which we were evenly matched. It wasn’t until late in the evening that I discovered her submissive side--as strong and pervasive as the Dominant front she used to make her way through life.

Almost on a bet, she agreed to submit to my use and abuse of her that evening, most likely to burn off a growing need on that side of the coin with some intense helplessness. She enjoyed herself immensely, and I enjoyed her as well, keeping her restrained throughout the night and not allowing her to take pleasure.

Over a period of weeks, she became a regular visitor, spending the weekends at my place in total submission, servicing me regularly with her mouth and sometimes, perhaps every third visit or so, being allowed to have an orgasm herself by means of a vibrator I would bind inside her body as she hung in my chains.

The details are unimportant. She eventually submitted to my every desire, including serving and servicing my guests on those weekends, male and female alike, even accepting the punishments of the guests when she earned them.

One night, I subjected her to a test of her submission and skills which I felt would be a challenge. I drank a couple of glasses of water, then chained her kneeling at my feet, a posture collar and chain to hold her mouth in range of my cock. I had come already within the hour, and I told her in no uncertain terms, “You will make me cum again with your mouth. The water I just drank will go thru my body before much time passes. If I have to piss before you swallow my load, you will have to drink it.”

Unlike her usual submission, with or without the defiant stubbornness that is a joy to break down, she began to complain. “M-master, please...i don’t do that kind of thing...”

“Then I suggest you get to work, and work well!”

I thrust into her mouth, and she began her labors.

She sucked cock with both skill and enthusiasm. I had trained her to see my pleasure as all-important, and to see the necessity to prolong that pleasure as much as possible. She could get me hard quickly and keep me there nearly as long as I wanted her to. Then, she knew when to ease her efforts, keeping me hard and fully aroused to maximize my enjoyment. So she used those skills effectively.

This time, of course, she had a time element to consider. She was visibly shaken by the idea of being forced to drink my piss, and struggled desperately to arouse me and bring me off as she struggled against her restraints.

The efforts were futile. Ten minutes along, I felt the piss going right through me. I didn’t let it go full force, but allowed it to trickle into her mouth at first, allowing her to swallow at her own rate for her first time.

Her reaction was most unfortunate. She cringed, fought her restraints, barely swallowed a few drops before it began to trickle out of the side of her mouth and down her body.

“Pig! Sloppy whore! You’ve earned a punishment. And rest assured, it will include a great deal of practice to make up for your lack of submission!”

She whined as I began leading her to my dungeon, begging me to have mercy and not subject her to this degrading use.

“But slut--it pleases me to degrade you. I find it enjoyable, especially when it humiliates you this way. So you must be taught to endure it. And you will.”

She moaned.

I fastened her in a standing spread-eagle, just high enough to bring her up off her heels, with little room to wiggle.

The whips came first. I used a cane to give her a dozen moderately strong welts on her ass, then a heavy cat to flog her back for a dozen. Moving to a lighter knotted cat, I stood in front of her and watched her breasts light up with a dozen fine but distinct groups of striations. With her legs spread wide, her shaved cunt was the final obvious target, and it too got its dozen, each punctuated with a scream.

I stood before her, watching the sweat drip down her welted flesh as she hung, working off the pain. I considered the many variations on the theme I had in mind, weighing the effects on training for each of them. I finally knew it must be a combination of force, which she needed to begin her new submission, and voluntary action, which would humiliate her at the same time. And with her strong tolerance for pain, there had to be a motivation in that area. I stood silent for nearly ten minutes, then came up with the approach I knew would work.

I had modified a set of cloverleaf clamps. While I had weakened the pressure on them, I had also removed the pads from their tips and sharpened the prongs that once held the pads until they became needle points. By bending them at the right angle, they would act as barbs, not pressing in hard, but digging into the flesh and piercing her if they were pulled beyond a point. I attached them to her nipples, and the first screams of her ordeal came forth.

“P-please, Master...”

“Don’t worry slut...if you don’t pull on them, you will find them quite tolerable.”

She panted, trying to avoid moving.

When she saw the rubber strap I brought out, she became much more openly fearful. “Oh no!!...Pleeeease!!!!” I smiled, and wordlessly hooked the chain of her nipple clamps to one end of the strap, then pulled it up until I could hook the other end to an overhead eyebolt. As she screamed, her body raised up instantly to her tiptoes, as high as her ankle restraints would allow. Even so, her clamped nipples pulled her breasts up hard, arching her in a most pleasing way. I took my time with the following steps, just to enjoy her suffering.

Next was a metal bucket. If filled, I knew from experience it would weigh several pounds, enough to more than offset the pull from the rubber strap which was threatening to tear her nipples off. Empty, it was barely a relief as I hung it from the connecting chain of the clamps.

“Ooooohhhh...pleeeeeassseeee!!!!!!” She cried, screamed, desperately flailing in her bonds as she suffered pain I knew to be well beyond her limits, but yet within her physical tolerances.

I decided it was time to silence her. It was a cock gag, of course, a large and realistic one which would keep her company for a few hours. I strapped it into her mouth.

It was also a feeder gag. I would often train piss slaves with it by hanging a reservoir of piss nearby and allowing it to slowly drip-feed into their mouths, controlled by a small valve. It had a ten-inch clear plastic line extending out from its base, which would allow fluid to pass through it. This time, however, I had different ideas for its use, and I just let it hang there freely from the cock-gag.

For the final element, I got a large glass beaker and set it on a stepladder almost under her nose. I had been drinking quite a bit during the setup and had held off pissing, to guarantee a good supply for my piss-pig to work with. I climbed the ladder and, mere inches from her face, pissed into the beaker, nearly filling it with a quart of warm piss.

I then stood and smiled at her, my face up in her face. She was still groaning in despair, in deep pain from her nipple clamps.

“I will now permit you to relieve your pain, to end your torture. If you obey me, you will be able to bring down that pain to a much more tolerable level.”

She groaned deeply, begging with her eyes for the mercy she knew I would not grant.

“To end your torture, you need to add weight to the bucket hanging from your clamps. This will pull it down and counteract the upward pull of the strap. Get it to a balance point, and the pull on the clamps will end.

“To add weight, notice the tubing extending out from your cock-gag.”

She looked, still greatly disturbed by the full beaker of piss inches from her face.

“If you turn your head, you’ll be able to get the tube into the beaker. Suck out a mouthful of piss, then move the tube to the bucket. You can blow the piss back out into the bucket, one mouthful at a time. I would advise you not to swallow too much though, at least until you’re sure you have enough to offset the pull of that strap. ..”

She moaned again, defeated. Humiliated already, she turned her head and, with a bit of difficulty, got the end of the tube into the beaker. I watched as she sucked on the rubber cock in her mouth, saw the incredible expressions of distaste on her face when the piss filled her mouth for the first time.

A tear falling from one eye, she turned her head back to the bucket hanging from her clamps. She blew out the piss, and I saw perhaps a couple tablespoons of piss flow into the bucket. Indeed, it occurred to me that the cock-gag filled a great deal of her mouth, and she would have to transfer a great many mouthfuls of piss to get her relief.

As she got into the rythym, I went silently to a closet and returned with a catheter. She made some noises as if alarmed as I fitted it carefully into her urethra and then taped it into place on her bare cunt. I heard a couple more splashes as I did this, and one more as I ran the other end up to the bucket and taped it to the far rim within her view.

I then sat down in a chair nearby and watched, lighting a cigarette.

It took close to twenty minutes, but the bucket moved lower, stretching the rubber strap, and finally, at nearly the thirty minute mark, I saw the light chains of her nipple clamps hanging loose. She breathed a sigh of relief, sweating profusely.

I smiled back at her, and complimented her with, “Good job, pissmouth. But I wouldn’t get too relaxed if I were you...”

The smile stayed on my face as her face in turn questioned my meaning. She had forgotten both the catheter AND the two glasses of water I had her drink before starting her punishment. Very soon, the water made it thru her body, and the catheter soon filled with the yellow piss and the stream began passing into the bucket.

Very alarmed now, she felt the clamps pulled again, but downward this time, as the growing weight of the bucket pulled lower and lower. She looked back at me, desperate again, not knowing what to do.

I stood and casually walked to her and took the empty beaker away.

“Its not hard to figure out, slut. You’re pissing into the bucket. You’ve made it too heavy now, and it is pulling down on your clamps. To stop that, you’ll have to lighten the bucket.”

She looked back at me, still not understanding, but with growing fear, and growing pain.

“Use your tube, pissmouth. Suck it back up thru your gag.”

She looked around, for the beaker, obviously wanting to know what to do with the piss...

“No beaker for you, slut. You want to get the piss out of the bucket, you’ll have to just drink it.”

She moaned piteously, now aware of my intentions. I smiled, knowing she still did not have the entire story. I watched her closely, looking into her eyes as she drank down the piss--hers and mine--swallowing the warm fluid. In a few minutes, the bucket began to rise just a bit, again relieving the tension on her clamps. She panted, nearly out of breath, knowing the taste of the piss would not leave her mouth for awhile. The bucket hung nearly under her nose, so she would be breathing those odors as well. I smiled, and waited.

As I anticipated, the catheter again began flowing as the piss she drank went right through her. She felt the pain of the clamps first, not even aware of her piss filling the bucket again until she looked and gasped in horror. She moaned once more, tears again began to flow from her eyes, and she once again began to suck up the piss and drink it down.

She understood now, and also knew it was by design this was happening. Whatever she drank would go through her in moments, filling the bucket. She would be forced to either endure intense torture of her nipples, or she would have to drink and recirculate her piss as long as I kept her in punishment.

She knew herself defeated, and now drank continuously.

I smiled at her once more, gave my video camera a last check to make sure it was getting all this down on tape, then bid her a good afternoon and left the room.

She screamed once...briefly....and resumed drinking.


Master Ivan
12/21/00

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