Ch 4: Going With the Flow

--

In the night she said, "Master?" softly, and then louder. He awoke -- he was always listening when she was restrained like this -- and she asked to use the bathroom. But instead of unchaining her, he put the bedpan under her hips, stretching the restraints. In the dark, knowing he could not see her, she concentrated and took deep breaths and finally felt herself unclench. Her urine flowed, and she cried silent happy overwhelmed tears. He removed the bedpan when she was done, emptied it in the bathroom, and returned with a wipe to clean her. He kissed her and kissed the tears from her cheeks, and they both went back to sleep.

2

He unchained her when he woke up, and she stretched gratefully, then rolled over to start the day as she did every day, with his cock in her mouth. He did not come, but stroked her hair and ran his fingers along her lips as they moved up and down his cock.

"Give me your hands," he said. With his cock still in her mouth, she held out one hand and then the other for him to take off her cuffs. The ankles were harder, but she was limber, and his cock only fell out of her mouth once.

She held her hands behind the back as he took her to the bathroom, his arm around her waist. He sat her on the toilet, told her to put her hands on her head, and waited, looking her in the eyes. She breathed and tried to relax. She closed her eyes and counted backwards from ten and for a moment she thought it would come, but it did not.

"Inquisition," she said, regretfully. "I was close."

He kissed her and left the room. She thought about last night, hearing her urine splash in the bedpan while he lay next to her. He returned when she finished, ran the bidet and then brushed her teeth. He turned on the shower and guided her in, and she relaxed her limbs as he washed her, letting him handle her, lift her arms, spread her legs. She bowed her head for him to wash her hair, shivering as his fingers massaged her scalp and her neck. The water was warm and soothing and cleansing. She let it flow over her, she let him direct it -- direct her -- and it streamed over her body, down her face over her closed eyes, into her mouth, ran off her chin. Water streamed off her nipples and from the lips of her shaved pussy, down her legs. She let go, flowed into it, and felt her urine run down her legs as well. But he didn't notice and she didn't tell him.

--

"Do you think you're ready to have my cum in your ass for real?" he asked after her shower, while she was face down on the bed with her ass raised. He was using the training dildos on her, lubricating and preparing her ass for a fucking. So far he'd been using condoms, both for cleanliness reasons and because latex was easier on her rectum than his naked cock would be.

"Yes, Master," she said. He did not pause pushing the dildo in and out of her, so her breathing was irregular as she continued. "I would like, I would like very much, to have your cum in my ass." He had pushed it into her but she wanted to feel what it would be like for him to come directly inside her.

"Good," he said. He removed the dildo and replaced it with one of the large latex plugs. "Up," he said. Holding her hair, he led her to the bathroom and placed her on all fours with her back to the toilet.

"I'm going to clean you out," he said. "Have you ever had an enema?"

"No, sir," she said. She still hadn't been able to pee in front of him and now this?

As if he'd read her mind, he said, "This will be easier. You won't be able to hold the water in very long. But if you make a mess you'll lick it up."

She put her face on her hands on the floor, lifting her ass as he removed the plug. She opened her mouth to hold it. He ran water into a bottle, testing it with his hand for temperature, and then lubricated the tip of a hose. Compared to the plug and the dildos, the hose was narrow and short. He held it in place as he turned a little valve, and squeezed the bottle, filling her with the water. She thought she felt her stomach bulging as he filled her.

"Hold it," he said, removing the nozzle. "Up onto the toilet." She sat and he held her by the hair, making her look at him as her sphincter released and the water flooded into the toilet. She bit down on the plug with shame as the flood finished.

"Good girl," he said. "Down again." She went back on all fours. He wiped her with toilet tissue, reinserted the nozzle, and filled her again, with more water this time, she thought.

"Hold it," he said, and removed the nozzle. She could feel some water leak out of her and run down her thighs but she held her sphincter firmly closed until her ass was over the toilet, letting go before she was fully seated.

"Very good," he said. He ran the bidet, and reached below her to wipe her dry, then said, "On your feet."

He flushed the toilet and brought her back to the bedroom. "Get on the bed and present yourself," he said. She got back into position with her ass raised. He took the plug from her mouth and set it aside, picked up the largest training dildo and pushed it all the way into her mouth, then used it to relubricate her ass. He didn't put it into her mouth this time, just removed it and replaced it with the head of his cock immediately. It did feel different without the condom. It slid less easily and she clearly felt it when its head slipped through her sphincter. He entered and withdrew a few times, adding more lube each time and going a little deeper. It felt more pleasurable than painful, especially the knowledge that she was finally giving him her ass fully. On his next entry she moved backwards, meeting his thrust and taking him in fully. She felt his balls against her cunt and moved with him as he fucked her. It hurt, but not in a scary way anymore, and what it meant, and how it stimulated her inside, made her feel like she could orgasm.

"Master, may I touch my clit?" she asked. "Please? I want to come with your cock in my ass."

"Oh yes," he said, groaning as he slid all the way into her again. She twisted as she put one hand under herself. She started rubbing her clit without prelude, and felt a slow build of orgasm. When he said, "here it comes," she came too. She couldn't actually feel him come inside her, but she could feel the pulsing of his cock and he ejaculated, and a warmth inside her like she'd felt earlier with the water. And when he withdrew, she felt a few drips run out of her and then, mortifyingly, a wet fart followed by a stream of cum and lube. She used her own hand to gather it up and bring it to her mouth.

"Thank you so much," she said. His body lay over her, forcing her flat on the mattress as he slid his arms under and around her, holding her tight. Her ass still felt his impact and his body covering her made her feel enclosed and safe and owned.

--

He rolled onto his side, taking her with him, still holding her tightly. She pressed into him, feeling more of him leaking out of her ass. She loved being wet and messy with him like this. They lay like that for a while, then he got up and went to the bathroom to urinate and wash his hands. When he returned, she was still curled up and he took her in his arms again.

"Master," she said, tentatively.

"Yes, my slave?" he answered, his chin on top of her head.

"Would you pee on me, Master?"

"Is that a request?" he asked. "Do you want me to? Is that something you like?"

"It's not something I've ever had done to me. I've never done any of this before," she said. "But yes, I do want you to."

"Really?" he said. "You don't want to pee in front of me but you want me to pee on you?"

"It's not that I don't want to, Robert," she said. "I can't control my bladder. It won't come."

"Part of you is resisting it," he said.

"Part of me thinks it's wrong," she said. "I mean, that's probably why I want it."

"Being pissed on isn't wrong?"

"Oh, it's so wrong," she said, smiling to herself. "It's filthy. But I can let that happen. I want to feel that. I want to be that dirty and degraded."

He kissed the back of her head, his cock prodding her ass. The conversation, her request, had made him hard. She arched her back and his cock slid between her pussy lips and then into her. The angle felt very good and she moaned softly, pressing her ass into him.

"I love you so much," he said. "I love taking you like this."

"I'm yours," she said. "So much."

He kissed her again, and came, a quiet second orgasm. He stayed inside her and held her tight until his cock slipped out on its own. She started to turn, to clean him with her mouth as she always did, but he held her tighter. She cuddled into him and lay there, not sleeping, just enjoying the Sunday morning quiet, his arms holding her in place, his cum leaking out of her front and back. She slipped a hand between her legs and then brought it to her mouth, so she'd have his cum in her mouth as well.

--

That afternoon, she worked at her desk. She worked more weekends than she should, but she needed time like this to buckle down on some proposals she had to finish and on a conference presentation. She was buckling down, and chained down too, and naked except for her cuffs. Her wrists were chained through a loop in the desk that let her reach her keyboard and mouse, but not her pussy. Each ankle was chained to the desk as well, so she could not fully close her legs. He had not put her back into her corset, but instead simply buckled a long belt around her middle and the back of the chair, holding her fast. She could lean over far enough to scratch her face, but she couldn't put her face in her hands or play with her hair, two of her most common procrastination moves.

Instead she typed and worked steadily, enjoying the small noises of the chain, the weight around her wrists, the feel of steel in her anus. Her coffee cup and her water bottle were within reach but her phone was not; she could see it but not pick it up. Her Master had ensured that she had no distractions other than the things she could do nothing about. Eventually the coffee and water had their usual effect and she called out, asking permission to use the bathroom. Her Master appeared, carrying a bedpan.

"Lift your hips," he said, and she complied with a sinking feeling as he slid the bedpan under her ass. She sat back down on the porcelain. It was warm, surprisingly; he must have been keeping it near the radiator. He stroked her hair and looked down at her.

"I can't," she said. "Not now, please, Sir."

He nodded. "I didn't think so," he said. "I'll leave the room, but the bedpan is your only option today."

"Yes, Master," she said. He left her office, and she took a deep breath, and released her urine into the pan. It splashed and rang against the metal and she could smell it, telling her she had drunk too much coffee and not enough water.

"I'm finished," she called out, and he came back into the room. She lifted her hips again and he slid it out from under her, placing it on the floor between her feet.

"You'll empty that later," he said, cleaning her between the legs with a sanitary wipe and some tissue. "In the meantime you can either ask if you need to use it again, or slide forward.

"And drink more water," he said. Her face reddened at the knowledge her owner had smelled the same thing she did. It was embarrassing to have him see so much, but also comforting that he noticed, and would make her take care of herself if she didn't do it herself.

Of course that meant she had to pee again. Her feet were on the floor, but the chains meant she could not bring them together or get them under herself. But she was in very good shape, thanks to CrossFit and her more intimate training, so with a firm grip on the desk and strong thigh muscles, she was able to bring herself forward and pee into the pan where her owner had left it. It splashed a little too much, though, and now the towel on her seat was wet with urine as well as with the lube that had leaked out of her ass, along with a little cum, but most of that had been held inside her by the plug.

--

She called out again, and he came in to clean her, not touching her clit or playing with her at all, but putting his fingers into her mouth for her to lick clean. She kept working until he came back, telling her it was time to dress for dinner. Or rather, for him to dress her. She wanted to tell him that she was in the middle of something, but that would be true all day, and he'd probably just give her a physical reminder to obey. He knelt to unchain her ankles, giving her pussy one long slow lick that made her shudder, then standing to unchain her wrists and remove her plug. The plug went into her mouth as always, and then he pointed at the floor. She got down on all fours and licked up the splashed urine around the pan. When she was done, he held up the water bottle and she put her head back, grateful for the drink of water.

"Take the pan to the bathroom and empty it," he said. "You may use the toilet if you wish."

3

She dropped to her knees, as always, as soon as the door was closed. This ritual obeisance meant a lot to both of them. For her it was a dedication, a letting-go, the moment when she was truly home. For him, it was an offering, a gift that he never stopped appreciating, this beautiful, intelligent and powerful woman on her knees for him, only for him, always for him. He almost always had her serve at this point, but instead, he just took her coat off, and said, "Wait here." He took off his coat, then she heard him washing his hands, and a few minutes later he returned, having changed into more casual clothes. She hadn't even taken her shoes off yet.

He opened his pants, and she accepted his cock as she usually did when getting home. But this time it wasn't a brief enjoyment of her mouth that he wanted. He did not stop her or lift her head to kiss her, but stroked her hair and with small signals she knew well, directed her as she served. Taking him slowly and deeply, as he liked, she focused herself entirely on offering him her mouth and throat. She could not do it smoothly; there was always a pause when he reached the back of her throat, and sometimes she had to go back up and try again. He watched her work, feeling her throat contracting around him as she took him in, drool running from her lips as she opened wider and worked her way down. He could force her down, but he felt no urgency at this moment, and the feeling was exquisite, her throat working, her tongue moving, and then his cock sliding into her and her lips closing around him at the base of his cock.

"Tongue," he reminded her, holding her down for a moment while she licked the underside of his cock. She had been trained well, and struggled to stay down, opening her mouth and drawing a breath around him, even though that meant a flood of drool spilled down her chin and onto the elegant dress she'd worn to dinner.

When he released her -- meaning that he relaxed the slight pressure of his hand on the back of her head -- she came back up, slowly, her lips closed, until just the head was in her mouth. She swallowed and took a few breaths, always keeping his cock in her mouth. He didn't often have to spank or belt her anymore for letting it slip out. She looked up into his eyes, and took him in again, slowly, opening her lips and using her tongue.

"Open your dress," he said. Without breaking her rhythm or letting his cock out of her mouth, she unzipped the dress, a simple garment that looked elegant but unzipped from collar to hem. She could not zip it down all the way, but she wore nothing underneath except a plug in her ass, and it was her breasts he wanted. He played them, pinching and pulling her nipples as she continued sucking him.

He felt his orgasm building but he did not rush her. He was enjoying her service, and the exquisite sensation of being on the edge of orgasm. He did not like being edged, at all, and he knew he could push her down if he wanted, but he didn't. He stroked her hair, feeling her lips and tongue slide down him, feeling her spit dripping down onto his balls. He reached down again and relished the soft feel of her small nipples and the sounds she made when he pulled them. He moaned softly at the exquisite motions of her tongue as her mouth moved down his cock, and he let the orgasm build.

She could feel it coming. She heard the change in his breathing, his small noises; she the way his cock was pulsing in her mouth. As she took him in deep again she thought this would be it, and when she reached the base she stayed down without being told, using her tongue on him, moving up and down only an inch or so, keeping his cock in her throat, and then feeling his cum flood her. She came up as he ejaculated, moving more quickly on him now and applying more pressure, until he was finished. She opened her mouth to show him his cum, and he held out his hand. She let it run out of her mouth onto his palm, and reveled in the feel of it being smeared over her face and onto her breasts.

He pulled her back to his cock, now softening after his orgasm. She took it in again, cleaning the last drops, licking and sucking gently. He held her there, and she looked up at him, his cock still in her mouth.

"Open your mouth," he said. She did so, keeping her eyes on him. He took his cock in his hand, the head still in her mouth, and looked down at her, feeling the afterglow of the orgasm fade into an increasingly urgent need to pee.

She kept her mouth open, looking up at him, knowing what would come next, seeing it in his eyes. She opened her mouth wider, leaned her head back, and looked at him. She did not nod. He needed to know she was ready, but he did not need permission.

That beautiful face looking up at him. The sharp intelligent eyes on his. He felt the urine come and watched her. The stream was slow at first as it always was, but rather than playing it over her face as he had the other day, he aimed directly into her mouth. At first she swallowed it, but soon it was flowing too fast for her. It spilled out of her mouth and over her face and down her body. But she kept swallowing as fast as she could. His piss. In her mouth. Her throat working again, urine spilling over her lips.

It ran down her breasts and off her nipples, soaked her dress, ran down her body and dripped off her pussy lips. She choked and he pulled back from her mouth, playing the stream over her face as he finished. She stretched to get it back into her mouth, licking it clean, milking the last drops, until he took it away from her.

She looked up at him, smelling and tasting his urine. She felt simultaneously humiliated and consecrated, dirtied by him and bathed in him. He turned her to face the full-length mirror, the one in which she checked her outfits in the morning, where she finished her transition from slave to executive.

She saw herself on her knees in a puddle of piss. Her elegant dress was clinging to her, damp with spit and urine, pulled open to expose her breasts. She looked at the makeup that had run with the tears from her watering eyes, the smeared lipstick, the hair tangled from where he had gripped her. He stood behind her, holding his head, pushing his fingers into her mouth and opening it wide. Again the drool started to run.

"Look at you," he said, love in his voice. She did. She was a complete mess. The dress was ruined, she was dripping wet. He had pissed into her mouth and she had swallowed it. Not all of it, a lot of it was all over her, but his urine was in her belly along with his cum. She felt used, and she felt consecrated. She wasn't his toilet, but she was his property. He moved her hands to the top of her head, and left her there on her knees.

When he returned and put the bedpan between her legs, she was not surprised. Of course he'd known she'd need to pee too, and now, covered in his urine, turned from elegant dinner date to messy slave before she'd even taken off her shoes, she had nothing further to hold back from him. She was his, she was loved, there was nothing he did not own. Her urine rang against the porcelain and splashed the insides of her thighs, and she looked up at him, showing him what she was and what he owned and what he had.