tagFetishPiss Slave: Awaiting Freedom

Piss Slave: Awaiting Freedom

byDesireToRelease©

My bladder felt like it was about to explode, but I only had 40 minutes to go. Master lay beside me in the king sized bed we shared, my filthy cage in the corner of our bedroom a reminder of nights of misbehaviour. As Master's personal piss slave, I was forbidden bathroom privileges between 9 pm and 7 am. This often meant occasional nights of tossing silently beside him as I tried to find a position that would put the least amount of pressure on my distended bladder, as I prayed I wouldn't wet the diaper Master forced me to wear most nights. Worse than wetting my diaper would be to leave the bed and relieve myself in the toilet, or anywhere else but on myself. Master locked the door to the washroom anyways, as a piss slave; I was not permitted the privilege of relieving myself like normal individuals. It was up to him how, where and when I released my bodily fluids.

I became a piss slave when I was faced with criminal charges that led to jail time for shop lifting. Because of a lack of space in jail, I was given two ultimatums; I could either spend two years in a crowded, filthy cell with limited food and supplies, or live with a "Correctional Chief" for two years who would see in his own way that I straightened out. If I do as told, I leave at the end of the term without a record, and I get to stay fed and sheltered in a more of a home environment. Of course, if I ratted about the actual events that took place here, I would be deemed a liar and thrown in jail anyways. A well respected authority figure always wins over a reoffending criminal any day. So I comply, most of the time.

RING! RING! RING! I'm already at the side of his bed and in position. Master shuts off the alarm sleepily and slowly stretches, finally pulling the sheets back and standing casually in front of me, pulling his semi hard penis out to relieve his morning piss without a glance at me. As if he was actually standing in front of a toilet, he begins to spurt his warm piss towards me, who, waiting on knees is forced to readjust the position of my mouth so it doesn't hit the wooden floors. He doesn't give me the courtesy of actually aiming at my mouth, and pisses slowly yet steadily. He knows that sitting on my knees puts extra pressure on my already swollen bladder, and is in no rush to finish quickly.

Piss now dripping off my chin and onto my tight white see through tank top, I have now controlled his flow straight down my throat. Muskier and more acrid than any other time of day, I sometimes have to ward off nausea, even though it's been months since I first tasted his piss. Master loves watching my small stomach slowly bloat with his liquid, until my abdomen looks somewhat like a balloon, my bladder hard and swollen and my stomach now full and extending over the top of my diaper. Finally, Master finishes, and I lick and suck at the last drops.

"Master, may I please relieve myself of my urine?" I plead.

"Yes, slut, in the usual manner," He replies. The usual manner, in the morning, was always to empty my entire contents into my diaper. First, I must take off my diaper and allow Master to inspect that not one drop has escaped throughout the night. If proven, he tapes it back on and I am finally allowed to urinate. I turn my back to him on all fours, ass pushed upwards towards him and let my piss gush into the super absorbent diaper. He likes me to do so slowly so he can watch the heaviness escalate before his eyes and watch it begin to sag immensely beneath me. When I'm done, I'm to give him morning head, still on knees, in thanks for my relief. I need to be careful of any sudden movements, because with the diaper so full, it could leak onto the floor easily, in which case I'm to lick up, sanitize and then submit to severe punishment.

I wrap my lips around Master's thick cock head, and suck gently. I can still taste the tangy taste of his piss, and suck until it diminishes. His cock now grown to its fullest size, I begin the task of enveloping it down my throat. With steady, slow pumps, his hand on my head, he begins to moan softly. My rhythm picks up, and with each pump my tongue is busy flicking the sensitive underside of his head simultaneously, and his hand becomes entangled and grips tightly in my long, wavy brown hair. He twists my small, hard nipple through my shirt and I gasp, which earns me a slap across the face. I quickly resume sucking and pumping with my tight, hot mouth. I can sense Master nearing, his balls slapping loudly and fiercely against my chin, his cock swelling with anticipation of his large load. With a passionate groan, Master's cock twitches and throbs with each rope of cum he pumps into my mouth and down my throat, not stopping until my mouth is overflowing and there is but a dribble threatening to obey gravity. Swallowing his load dutifully, I lap up the remainder on his softening dick and suck lovingly on his balls, before he forces my head away and orders me to go to the kitchen.

On hands and knees, I crawl to the kitchen awkwardly with loud squishes from the diaper obvious. I am never to walk in the house unless instructed otherwise, I have not yet earned that 'stage', as Master calls it. Waiting by my dog bowls, Master pours a cold can of stew into my dish and refreshes my water. I lap at it gingerly, and Master gets ready for work while I work on my breakfast.

At 8:30, Master lays me on a mat and changes my sodden diaper into a fresh one, after allowing me to piss once more in the back yard. Once inside, he pulls a tight pair of jeans on overtop. Instead of a belt, Master locks the front of my jeans with an actual lock that is looped between the front belt loops, that way, the only way I can relieve myself without wetting myself would be to have the lock in his possession in order to pull the zipper down, as the jeans are too tight to pull down without doing so. The jeans are also tight so as my bladder becomes full, the pain increases. He then pulls a tight black tank top on, which shows off my small, perky tits and hard nipples. With a list of chores waiting on the kitchen table, I am to see him goodbye at the door.

"Behave, pet. If you can finish this week without one accident, you'll move to the next stage. However, things will get harder. That bowl of water must be finished when I get home at 4. Any capable piss slave of mine has been able to handle 10 ounces of water until I got home in the past. Don't disappoint me."

"Yes, Sir," I reply with dismay, and watch him walk out the door for the day as I have for the 3 months. The day has just begun. Only one year, 7 months to go, I think as I eye the list on the table, then the clock on the wall, and groan.

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