A Weekend With Agnes

I’m not sure how long I sucked and probed, licked and delved, but I was aware of three orgasms, and there may have been more. I actually came myself. As the pressure mounted in my throbbing organ, I managed to wrap my legs around one of hers and fucked it, as would a randy dog. Finally, her spasms dwindled, and she allowed me to withdraw my dripping face from its sweet prison. She lay back in the chair replete, and regarded me with half closed eyes.

“You’re rather good at that aren’t you?” she murmured. I thought a little flattery wouldn’t go amiss, so I smiled and said, “With you, Madam, anyone would be inspired.” She liked that, and allowed her nyloned sole to stroke my face. I told you women were susceptible to this sort of thing. I pressed my nose between the moist toes and inhaled that magic odour. She liked that too. At Lisa’s party she had kicked me in the face for doing exactly the same thing. Now she encouraged me, flexing her toes and gripping my nose gently. I was definitely starting to grow on Agnes.

Eventually, she stood up and declared it was time for bed. She led me to the bathroom and told me to strip. Bemused, I did. Where was I going to sleep? In the cold porcelain bath, that’s where. I hadn’t grown on Agnes that much. She rummaged in the dirty linen basket and produced several pairs of soiled panties and a pair of black tights. The panties she carefully pulled over my head, making sure all the crotch pieces were covering my nose. Then she pulled the tights over in the same way before tying them securely behind my head. My head was now tightly wrapped in aromatic undergarments, but Agnes hadn’t finished yet.

“You will not remove these panties from your face during the night. I want them still in place in the morning. Do you understand?” I nodded dumbly. I didn’t mind them there at the moment, but all night? The smell of used panties can be a bit wearing after a certain time, but more was to come. Agnes was finally about to recycle the wine.

“Lie down,” she commanded, I’m going to anoint for them you. I gingerly lay down on the cold porcelain, shuddering as it made contact with my punished back. I waited. I was aware of her shifting about, positioning herself, and then it came, a strong gusher of urine that played itself all over the garments wrapping my head in their less than fragrant embrace. They soon became even less fragrant, and I came to close to suffocating. The urine found its way into my nose, my mouth as I gasped, and turned the panties and tights into a sodden stinking mess. This I had to endure all night apparently. Agnes had put the plug in, and the surplus pee swirled in the bottom of the bath, swiftly turning cold around my naked limbs.

“I shall probably have to go a couple of times during the night, so I’ll be able to freshen them up for you,” she said, quite matter of factly. Then she was gone, leaving me in my enforced nakedness, lying in her pee and with my head and face tightly enclosed in soaking undergarments. The truly surprising thing is that I made no attempt to extricate myself. I stayed in the bath instead of climbing out and lying on the carpet. I left the soaking pants in place, breathing in the overwhelming aroma of sex and piss for the whole night. I didn’t even pull the plug to let the surplus pee drain away. Why? It wasn’t fear of punishment; she could, and would, punish me anytime. No, it was the mere fact that this was what she wanted, and I was fast becoming a slave to her whims. Agnes now had me totally under control.

Somehow I managed to doze, easing my battered body from one position to another, trying to attain a little comfort. Once I was aroused from an exhausted light slumber as my head was suddenly drenched once more with a stream of urine. Agnes never said a word as she played the gusher all over my encased head. The stream died away and I heard the door close quietly. And this was how I spent the night. By morning I craved to be anywhere but in this cold porcelain bath, my limbs shivering uncontrollably, my head still enveloped in those wet clinging garments. But I stuck it out; it was, after all, what Agnes wanted.

Finally, I was aware of her moving around, and my purgatory seemed to have an end in sight. I heard her enter the bathroom. “Good morning,” she said brightly “I hope you slept well. I certainly did. Excuse me now while I answer the morning call of nature. I’m very regular you know.”

I could see nothing; I dare not open my eyes because the urine made them sting terribly. That was something I had discovered very early on. My eyes remained tightly shut, but I could hear her gently straining at the toilet, followed by a small plopping sound. My thoughts can well be imagined, particularly when she didn’t pull the flush. My head was suddenly released from its clinging soaking prison as Agnes pulled the panties away. I looked at her then, rubbing my eyes gingerly. She was dressed simply again, a skirt and blouse and the same pair of mules she had been wearing at the door yesterday. Today, she wore white tights.

“Come,” she said, helping me out of the bath, “I have a little test for you. Pass it, and you can have a warm shower, your clothes, and some breakfast. You’ll make it of course, the breakfast I mean.” She led me hesitantly over to the toilet bowl, and my heart sank. She gently pushed me down to my knees in front of it.

“I want you to gaze closely in that bowl and admire the turds I have just parted with. I won’t make you eat them, but I DO want you to pay them their due respect. Stay with your head deep down in the bowl for fifteen minutes and admire them, they are, after all, your Mistresses’ waste. Can you do that?”

I nodded. I was almost totally broken. If she wanted me to admire her excreta I would. I pushed my face deep into the bowl, my nose only inches away from the two brown sausages floating there. “A little deeper,” she said, and I felt her foot on the back of my neck, thrusting it even further into the bowl. My nose was now almost touching them and the smell was appalling. I reviewed my situation. I was kneeling with my head in a toilet bowl, smelling and staring at Agnes’ turds. How did I feel about it? I realised that this was probably my proper place, and that I would do anything for this lady. I mustn’t lose her, and without any further thought I pushed my head down one more inch, and licked one of the floating lumps of excreta slowly and lovingly.

Her foot left my neck and she gently pulled me upwards out of the bowl. She was smiling. Very very good, I thought you might do that. I think you belong to me totally now.

There was no question about it. I did. Do you want to know the upshot? We got married a few months later, and both of us are very happy. She is very dominant, and still likes to kick occasionally, but not with the brutal force she used to employ. She still likes to indulge in water-sports and I don’t mind. I’m so used to her offerings, I can honestly say I’ve had worse pints of lager. Scat never comes into it. She set a test and I passed it.

Oh, she still maintains I give the best muff dive she’s ever had!

THE END

This story is also dedicated to Mistress Domina, for reasons I’m sure she’ll understand.