A couple days ago, we posted a few pics that were a bit darker and dirtier, and I promised the story to go with them was forthcoming. Here it is. This is not light and fluffy BDSM. This is filth, degradation, humiliation, depravity, emotional sadomasochism. We make no apologies. I hope you enjoy it as much as we did. -B
We sit shoulder to shoulder, flipping through the images on the back of his camera. Our scene the night before had taken us to new places, darker placesā¦places I hadnāt even known I wanted to explore.
Humiliation and degradation at a whole new level, slutty lingerie and predicament rope bondage, rough anal sex and canes, and the night ending with me in the bathtub, covered in his piss and fucking myself in the ass with a dildo.
It was the deepest level of debasement Iād ever experienced, and also the quietest I think my brain has ever been. The little critic that never seems to shut up was silent for once. We had done things that would have been on my hard limit list only a few months ago, and yet here I was, looking at the pictures he had taken of these perverted acts with eagerness.
As we flip through the pictures, what strikes me the most are the shots heās taken of my face. There is a certain blankness in my eyes, alongside a burning focus. A focus on him. On what he wants. There are tears, and ugly crying faces, and smeared make up. There is suffering. But it is suffering for him. There is nothing in my mind that is not focused on him. For once, that little mental voice has nothing to say.
I can almost hear the sobs through the tiny screen of the camera, the choked requests for him to hurt me, to use me, his sadistic little laugh as he reminds me again what a disgusting whore I am, nothing more than toilet slave for him to use. All of these things come flooding back, and I feel it.
The tingling between my legs, the tightening in my throat. He senses it too, and I can feel him hardening against my leg. At this point, we are both still staring at the camera, but neither of us are seeing the images there any longer.
Finally, he breaks the silence, laying a hand on his cock. āDo you see what your suffering and shame does to me? My little piss slave?ā
My breath catches and I squirm. He reaches over and runs a finger over the thin material of my panties and I gasp, his other hand snaking up to roughly grab my breast.
āYou little slutā¦ youāre all worked up just looking at these pictures, arenāt you? Just thinking about being my little piss whore.ā
I whimper my agreement, arching my back and pressing my hips into his fingers.
He traces little circles over my clit, pinning my legs down with his. āYouāve been thinking about this, havenāt you, slut? How long have you been thinking about being my filthy little whore? How long have you been thinking about my piss?ā
Almost instantly the tears are there, and unthinking, I fall back into third person āitā speech. In this space, I have no identity, other than his property. āItā¦itās been thinking about it all day, Master,ā I stutter, squirming against his fingers. He quickens his pace, pressing hard into my cunt just the way I like.
That laugh again. āYou have, havenāt you? Youāre disgusting! Filthy little piss can! What do you want? Do you want it in your mouth again? Do you want to taste my piss in your little whore mouth?ā His fingers move faster as my hips buck involuntarily, pathetic little sobs escaping my lips.
āYesā¦yes, Sir.ā I reply, barely louder than a whisper. āIt wants to please you. It wants you to hurt it, it wants to use it however you see fit.ā
āDo you want to drink it? Do you want to drink my piss? Did you think about swallowing it?ā He pulls my panties over my legs, digs his fingertips into my bare cunt. I sob, unable to admit the truth. But I donāt need to.
āYou DID, didnāt you? Thatās why you held it in your mouth. If Iād told you swallow, you would have, wouldnāt you? Youāre disgusting, do you know that?ā He chuckles again as I feel the tears leaking from my clenched eyes. āTake that shirt off,ā he growls, and I scramble to obey, tossing it to the floor.
He sits up and straddles me, stroking his cock between my breasts, shoving his fingers into my throat.
āThe greedy little piss whore wants more, is that? It wants to be my toilet?ā
I gasp for air and lose the small vestiges of self-control left to me. āIt wants to taste you, Master, it wants to be your filthy little piece of fuckmeat, it wants to be broken, it needs to please you, Master!ā
I cry out as his open palm comes down first on one breast, than the other. WHAP. WHAP. I do my best not to flinch, absorbing the pain as the shockwaves pass through my body.
He wordlessly pulls my mouth open with his thumb and I feel the hot stickiness of cum land on my face, between my breasts, on my lips and hair. Frantically, I try to catch as much of it on my tongue as I can, holding it in my open mouth the way he likes. He stares down at me, rubbing the last drops of cum from his cock and massaging them into my painfully sensitive nipples. Hooking his thumb over my teeth, he stretches my mouth even wider. āDo you want to swallow that, slut?ā
I nod, mumbling āIf it pleases you, Sir,ā as well as I can with a mouthful of cum.
āGo ahead,ā he says dismissively, letting me go. I gulp, and feel his saltiness slide down my throat. I rub the back of my hand over my face, trying to banish the tears that keep coming.
He stands up, and my cunt is throbbing from the sudden lack of attention. āOn the floor.ā He gestures impatiently, and I drop to my knees, bare nipples hardening in the cool room.
He sits on the bed in front of me, studying me. āThe greedy little slut wants more, hm?ā He twines his fingers in my hair, pulling my head back. āDo you have any lipstick with you, filth?ā I whimper and nod, unable to meet his eyes.
āGet it.ā He releases me, and I scurry to find the makeup. I place it in his hand and resume my place at his feet.
I hiccup, but canāt bring myself to meet his eyes, staring instead at my knees.
āLOOK AT ME, SLUT.ā He grabs my chin and forces my eyes up to meet his, laughing at the tears that start pouring down my cheeks again. He uncaps the lipstick, and I know whatās heās going to do.
āSince youāre so proud of being such a filthy piece of trash, Iāll even let you wear it. My pathetic little piss slut,ā he says, writing on one cheek, then the other. The lipstick is itchy on my skin, and my cunt twitches again. He orders me to look up again, and Iām staring into his camera lens.
THWACK. The familiar sound of the shutter makes me shiver, knowing heās capturing every bit of my disgrace. I force myself to keep my eyes open. THWACK. THWACK. He shows me the back of his camera, and a pathetic little girl with blank eyes looks back at me. Thereās dried cum and tears all over her chest, and the words PISS SLUT sprawl across her cheeks in red, already beginning to smear. She is pitiful, a degraded little slave.
I drop my gaze to my hands again, whispering, āIt only wants to please you, Master. It wants whatever you will give it. It wants to suffer for you.ā
He laughs again and kicks me in the side, throwing me off balance. I fall to all fours and he stands over me. āWell, come on, slut. Crawl. To the bathroom. Now.ā A moan escapes me, tears and snot dripping down my face as I begin to make my way down the hall. He kicks at me again, and I fall on my face.
āYou like that, donāt you, filth? You like being kicked, treated like the broken little piece of garbage you are.ā
I cry harder in response. āYes, Sir, yes please, it wants you to hurt it, it deserves to be hurt.ā
He motions towards the bathroom.
āMove.ā
After what seems like an eternity of tripping and kicking and stumbling, Iām kneeling at the edge of the tub. He tells me to get in, on my hands and knees. He follows me and instantly pins my face the floor of the tub with his foot, his heel pressing into the back of my neck. I donāt even try to hold back the cries now.
āPoor little slut,ā he mocks, digging his foot in harder. The tub is cool under my cheek, and I take a breath, surrendering to him, reaching that quiet place of acceptance.
āAsk me for it. Tell me what it wants.ā
I close my eyes. āPlease, Sirā¦.it wants your piss, Master. It wants to be your piss whore, It wants to taste you, it wants to be your vile little slave. It is yours to abuse, please Sir.ā The only thing I can think of is making him happy, doing what he asks, proving that I am his in every way.
As before, he gives me no other warning, and Iām still pleading when I feel him let go. Itās hot against my face, drenching my hair, running into my mouth as I whimper against the floor of the tub. My first instinct is to spit it out, but I resist, and let his piss stream across my tongue, tasting the bitterness, the smell of it overwhelming me. I cough, and he laughs again, grinding his foot into my urine-soaked hair. āSuch a dirty, disgusting slave girl.ā
He nudges my face with his foot once more. He steps out of the tub, telling me not to move. I lay there in the puddle of piss and tears, lipsticked words smeared across my faceā¦and impossibly, I feel my cunt getting wet.
He returns to the bathroom, camera in hand. Strands of piss-soaked hair stick to my face, my nose runs, mascara and eyeliner drip in black streams over the writing he has adorned me with. I sniff and look up at him, asking the only thing I can think of.
āDoes it please you, Master? Is it pretty now?ā
He brings his camera up and smiles from behind the lens. āYes, little slut.ā THWACK. āItās very pretty. Pretty just for me.ā THWACK.
I shudder with relief as he snaps away, capturing every disgusting detail, every stain, every drop of piss and tears and spit. Unthinking, I reach down, rubbing my swollen pussy, while my other hand creeps up to pinch a nipple. Suddenly, thereās silence. He puts the camera down.
āWhat a greedy fucking slut! Are you touching yourself? You are, arenāt you? Filthy little toilet whore, covered in piss, humiliated and degraded, and youāre turned on, touching your dirty little cunt!ā
I freeze, whimpering. āIt needs your degradation, Master, it needs your debasement, it wants your piss, your spit, your cum, whatever you want to give it, its pussy is so wet Sir, itās sorry, please, pleaseā¦ā I donāt even know what Iām saying at this point, just that Iām desperate to cum and desperate to please him, desperate to take whatever he will give me.
He picks up the camera again. āNo, go ahead, slut. You want to touch yourself? Go ahead.ā THWACK. The sound of the camera, the knowledge that heās capturing every moment of my shame, only makes me cry harder and rub my clit faster. He knows it, too.
āYou like that Iām taking pictures of you like this, donāt you? That camera turns you on, knowing I could show your little piss whore self to the world, makes you feel pretty, doesnāt it?ā Heās mocking me now, and I love it. I stop touching my nipples and slip a finger into my ass, knowing heās watching, disgusted with myself and unable to stop. I rock my hips against my fingers furiously, moaning as I feel my orgasm building.
āLook at me,ā he says again, watching me through his lens. I crane my head up, and he spits in my face. I gasp, and he does it again, and again. āYouāre filthy. Youāre greedy, trash, disgusting, you know that?ā
His spit runs down my face, I can taste it, and I canāt take it anymore. Fingers in my ass and pussy, sitting in piss and spit and tears, I cry out. āPlease Master, please may it come, please may your filthy little piss whore come, PLEASE.ā
THWACK. āGo ahead,ā he says quietly, and I can hear the amusement in his voice. And then it doesnāt matter, as my orgasm washes over me and I shudder with release. I hear one last snap of his camera shutter, and a soft chuckle. I take a deep breath and open my eyes, looking up at him, spent, broken, humiliated.
āThank you, Master,ā I whisper.
He leans over and kisses my forehead, urine and spit and all.
āYouāre welcome, slave.ā
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