The Dante Society (third draft)

This was why she had searched out the Dante Society, her body and mind demanded this degradation, this slavery. The first time she had been spanked she had gushed all over her boyfriend's knee, the filthy feeling of being shamed and punished was the match which kindled the fire of her sexuality.

She imagined the scene of her, breasts wobbling with each thrust, cock in both ends, a huge ugly butt plug sticking out of her buttocks. The people watching her, about forty pairs of eyes watching each shameful trickle of cunt-honey, Master seeing how rude and degraded she could be.

Paul's cock was teasing her, brushing past her g-spot and pulsating against the plug inside her, nudging up against her painfully full bladder. Looking down into the shining black floor she saw her reflection and another wave of filthy pleasure rippled through her.

Reaching underneath her, Paul had begun to tickle her clit with his index finger, inadvertently altering the angle of his penetration. His cock nudged against her g-spot now and suddenly Clarissa became acutely aware of the urge to pee. Slamming against her spot he stimulated her nerve endings to a tingling high but the pressure pushed right through to her bladder and her body screamed for release. Six glasses of wine were trying to escape from her simultaneously and losing her cool appearance she squeaked out.

Her brain, trained to obey and ignore all needs would not allow her mouth to form the words and "please, stop" came out as an urgent and intelligible squawk. Her eyes met Master's and they tried to psychically tell him that she must pee. Focussing on his face, she saw he wore an evilly attractive grin and it dawned on her that he knew. Every day he metered out her food, her water, he told her when she could and could not use the bathroom - and he knew right now that her bladder was about to burst. He'd planned it so that she would empty her bladder in front of the whole room of slaves and masters.

Knowing that he had plotted for her to be shamed in this way, that he knew her desires so intimately to engineer this utterly degrading performance pushed Clarissa the one step further that she needed. An enormous shuddering climax erupted from her cunt and she shrieked in ecstasy as she wet herself, floods of clear sparkling urine flowing down her legs and splashing onto the black marble. As she pissed herself, the fluid spraying her and Paul both, her waves of orgasm were matched with ripples of shame and embarrassment. Looking down at the floor her reflection shimmered as the puddle of urine reached her hands, and her degradation was complete.

"Tuna sweetcorn sandwich, anything else love?" the waitress plonked her lunch down unceremoniously onto the table and stood, hands on hips. Clarissa was brought back into the cafe in a rustle of newspaper and she looked at the waitress, momentarily stuck for words.

"Er, um, er, no, that's fine. Thanks," she added, regaining her cool. Clarissa's pussy was pounding and she felt sure that she must have made a damp patch on the back of her trousers. She wanted so badly to return to the fantasy. Looking down at her lunch, she remembered her failure at work this morning. Maybe there was some way she could make it up to the managing director? She'd heard rumours that he had been caught spanking his PA a few years back, perhaps he might be persuaded to take out his disappointment in her in a similar fashion. Pushing away the sandwich and leaving a ten pound note on the table, she made a quick exit in order to plan how she might be able to fulfil her deviant ideas.

Olivia saw the businesswoman stand up and briskly shove her food away. Must have been paged to attend some emergency meeting at the office, she thought. An office worker neglecting her lunch in order to return to an urgent matter at the office - such dedication to her work! Time to return to the checkout, Olivia thought, and finished her cup of tea.