Humiliating the Toy

I was sitting around enjoying my afternoon off of work, when the house phone rang. I picked it up, and said hello, to find out that it was my Dom on the other end of the line.

"Hello, toy," he said. Toy was his name for me, and a very apt description of what I was to him.

"Hello Sir, did not expect you to call me today," I answered.

"I was bored, and decided that your suffering would amuse me," he replied. "I know that you hate talking on the phone, but today you are just going to have to suck it up and deal with it. Now, when was the last time you peed, whore?"

"About two hours ago, Sir, I think," I replied.

"OK, that will do," he said. "Grab your clothespins, your spatula, a glass beer or soda bottle, your camera, and a Dixie cup filled with water. Do *not* grab your vibrator, as you will not be getting off today. Then head upstairs and sit down in the bathtub."

I complied, and felt a chill as a I sat down in the cold tub floor. "I am there now sir," I told him.

"Good. Now put the stopper in the tub, and lay down in it so that as much of you as possible is on the tub floor." I did so. "OK, now comes the fun stuff. Piss yourself, cunt."

I whimpered audibly, and he laughed at me. He knew how much pissing on myself humiliated me, which is why he loved making me do it. Neither of us had a piss fetish at all, but the humiliation was what I got off on, and he got off on my agony. Talking on the phone while doing such an embarrassing thing only added to the humiliation I felt.

"Hurry up you dumb slut," he told me, and I allowed my bladder to release. I felt the hot liquid (which I knew from experience would soon get cold and make me shiver) pour over my legs, and then having nowhere else to go, rest in the tub, all over my back and ass.

"Done now, Sir," I told him, a blush rising in my face.

"Good girl. Now chug that 16 ounces of water, and then refill it from the tub tap. Don't get any water in your tub though, I wouldn't want to water down your piss bath." He chuckled again at me. I drank the water as fast as I could, and then refilled it, nervous about what was in store.

I told him that I was done. "OK, what I want you to do is to piss yourself as frequently as you can. I don't just mean when you feel the need to urinate, I mean that I want you to actively try to piss whenever you can. And every time that you do so, I want you to tell me that you are pissing yourself, so that I can laugh at how stupid you are. Got it, toy?"

I cringed at the order. "Yes sir," I told him.

"Good. Now, take a picture of yourself lying in your piss. I want to make sure that your humiliation is recorded for posterity." I got the camera out to take the picture. "Oh, and don't get your face in any of the shots I have you take, OK?"

"Yes Sir," I replied. "That last command makes me nervous, Sir."

He laughed. "I am surprised that you are smart enough to realize that that *should* make you nervous. " I took the picture, knowing I had no other option. As I previewed it in the tiny screen on my camera, I noticed my prominent 36D breasts, and a bathtub with what was obviously piss in it. I blushed deeply.

"Now what, Sir?" I asked him.

"Now you sit and stew until you piss again. I have you on speakerphone, but I am working on my car," he said. "Don't forget to tell me when you wet yourself again."

I sat in the tub and waited, wishing that I had something else to do to take my mind off of my humiliation. I heard vague sounds of a car being worked on in the background. Every few minutes or so (I really had no sense of how much time was passing), I tried to pee, as that was what I was told to do. Every time I tried, I felt the humiliation anew, at the thought that I was actively trying to piss myself further.

After a while of this, the piss was indeed cold, and I began to shiver. "I am cold, Sir," I told him, hoping for some sympathy. I should have known that I would receive none when he was in this mood.

"Poor fucking baby," he said. "Maybe if you wanted to be warm and comfortable you shouldn't have pissed on yourself like a dumbass. Haven't you pissed again yet? Maybe you need to drink some more, have at least a third of that refill."

I did so, blushing anew at his comments. The extra liquid combined with the cold meant that the next time I tried to piss, I succeeded. "I...I just wet myself some more, Sir," I told him, quietly and full of shame.

"What was that, whore? I didn't quite hear you?" he answered, taunting me.

"I said that I wet myself again, Sir," I said, as loud as I could muster. I heard a low chuckle from him.

"Well good, I am glad that you could finally get around to obeying me," he replied. "As a reward, why don't you put one of those clothespins on your left nipple?"

"A *reward* Sir??" I asked, flabbergasted.

"Yes, toy, a reward," he answered. "Are you saying that you do not like my reward for you?"

"No Sir, of course not," I hastily replied. "Thank you for your reward, Sir," I said as I placed the clothespin on my nipple and winced in pain. I have always hated pain. Unlike some subs, pain does not give me pleasure in and of itself, and I certainly cannot orgasm from it. I do, in a roundabout way, enjoy it, though, as it pleases Sir to make me hurt, so *that* pleases me.

Several more minutes passed before I was again able to produce some piss, and this time I was rewarded with a clothespin to my right nipple. This continued for quite a while, until I had three clothespins on each nipple, and several on my labia as well. I was growing quite a puddle of urine to lay in, and was more humiliated than I had ever been in my life. My camera now contained quite a few pictures of me in the piss with clothespins on me. I had also drank three glasses of water at this point, and was growing weary of drinking just so that I could piss it back out onto myself.

The next time that I pissed (and telling Sir when I had done so had not gotten any less humiliating), I heard him turn the phone off of speakerphone, and wondered if perhaps he was going to end my suffering. I should have known better.

"OK, slut, now put a clothespin on your clit," he said. I whimpered audibly again, and once again he laughed. "Yes, I know, that is your favorite one." He heard my audible gasp of pain. "Ah, I hear that you have it on now, good. Now, it has taken you about forty-five minutes to get this far. So, I want you to give each breast forty-five hits with the spatula, all over them. You can avoid the nipples, since they are otherwise occupied, but make sure you do the rest of the tit as evenly as possible. Understand?"

I nodded, and then realized that he could not see me, so I said "Yes, Sir," and started hitting myself. Every time that I made a sound of pain, I heard him chuckle on the other end of the phone.

"I wish I could be there, doing this to you," he said. "Or, better yet, shoving my cock down your throat until you gag on it while you do this to yourself." I felt my body respond to his comment, and silently cursed myself for enjoying this.

When I was finished, he told me to chug another cup of water, and then grab the bottle. He then instructed me to fuck myself with the large end of the bottle. I had done this several times before, but it still was far from easy.

I realized then that I had forgotten an important thing. "Sir," I started, "I just realized that I forgot the lube."

"Well you certainly can't get it now, dumb slut, or you will get piss everywhere. Surely that horny cunt of yours doesn't need any more lubrication." I blushed again, and began to work the bottle into my cunt. It was painful, but eventually I got it inside of me. Of course doing this made the clothespins on my labia and clit even more painful.

"It is in now, Sir," I told him.

"Good," he replied. "Now take a few pictures of it inside you, and then fuck yourself with it good and hard, until you piss again." I complied, wondering how it was possible that I was even more humiliated than before.

It did not take long fucking the bottle for me to need to piss again. Urine went all over my hands and the bottle, and I told Sir that I had pissed again.

"What a filthy whore you are, toy," he told me. "Having fun sitting in your own mess?"

"You know that that is a trick question, Sir," I told him.

"Yes, I know, but I require an answer anyways," he replied. "Are you getting off on this? Is your dirty, piss-covered cunt soaking wet from arousal?"

I blushed yet again, and answered, "Yes, Sir. I am very turned on, Sir. Fuck, why do I do this to myself?"

"Because you are mine, and you do whatever I tell you to, whore," he reminded me. "Also, because you love to be humiliated. You love the fact that you are covered in your own nasty, smelly piss, fucking yourself with a bottle. You love the fact that you are taking pictures of your debasement, knowing full well what will happen to them. And, most of all, you love the fact that doing all of this is making me hard at your torture."

"Yes Sir, that is all true, Sir," I replied, hanging my head in shame. "Should I remove this bottle yet, Sir?" I asked.

"Nah, leave it in and keep fucking yourself with it. Leave the clothespins on too, because I am sure they must be hurting like hell by now. And keep pissing yourself and refilling you water, too. I am going to jack off in the shower now, because I am done with the car. When I come back I *might* let you shower. I am hanging up now, I will call you when I am done. Bye toy."

"By Sir," I said. I knew that he tended to take long showers, so I dreaded the wait. I continued to fuck myself with the bottle, knowing that I could not orgasm from it, and knowing that I was not going to be allowed to orgasm at all. I so longed for release. Ever so often, I pissed again, as I had been told, and continued to torture myself by drinking more water.

I felt like an utter disgusting slut. I felt like anyone who passed me on the street must somehow look at me and know that I was this debased. I shivered in the cold piss, wishing Sir would call me back and end my misery. I knew that he was right, though, and that deep down inside, I was enjoying the humiliation.

After what seemed like an eternity, the phone rang. I answered it eagerly. "Well that didn't ring long, cunt, one might think that you were eager to hear from me if I didn't know that you just wanted to be let out of your piss bath," Sir said when I answered it.

"Please can I get out and clean myself off now, Sir?" I asked him, hopeful that he would say yes, and almost equally hopeful that he would torture me further.

"Piss one last time, as much as you can, and then let me know." It did not take me long to do so, as much water as I had drank.

"I wet myself again, Sir," I once again told him.

"Good girl. Now pull off the clothespins one at a time, starting with your nipples, and ending with your clit." I did so, gasping in pain at each one. When I got to the clit, I braced myself, remembering from past experiences just how painful this one was to take off. As I removed it, I squealed in pain, and once again heard Sir laugh at me.

"Ah, toy, your pain does amuse me so," he told me. "I had a lovely time getting myself off in the shower thinking about alternating throat fucking you with spanking you until you cried. OK, now you can take the bottle out of you, unplug the tub, and shower."

"Thank you very much, Sir," I told him, and began to comply.

"Oh, wait, one more thing, slut. I think that a filthy whore like you does not deserve hot water, so you have to shower in cold water. Might want to be quick about it, wouldn't want you to freeze to death or anything. When you are done showering, take a picture immediately of your rock hard nipples, as I am sure that they will be after the cold water, before you dry off, and then get on the computer and I will talk to you on IM. Bye for now, toy."

"Bye again, Sir," I said, shuddering at the idea of showering in the cold water. Sighing, I pulled the tub plug and watched as my piss drained out. Then, with reluctance, I turned the cold water on and began to shower as fast as I could, shivering the entire time. When I was satisfied that I was clean, I turned off the water, and took a picture as fast as I could, so that I could dry myself off in the warm towel.

Once I was dry, I made my way to my laptop and signed on to IM. Sir was there waiting on me. "OK, toy, now download those pictures and send them too me. Put a description with each one so that I remember what you were doing in all of them."

"Yes Sir," I said, and sent them all to him. There were about twenty of them total. For each one, I wrote a little sentence about what was going on in that picture, blushing for each one. When he had received them, he told me that he was proud of my ability to humiliate myself for his pleasure.

"Now, toy, I think you know what is coming, but before I do anything,I want to make sure that everything is clear. You know that I am going to post all of these online for the public to see, right?"

"Yes Sir, I had figured that out," I replied.

"And you know that anyone that wants to will be able to see your sluttiness, right?"

"Yes Sir, I know," I said, blushing deeper than I already was.

"OK, good. I just wanted to give you a chance to back out with your safe word. After I submit these, there will be no turning back." I waited a few more minutes, anxiously, until he announced that they were posted. He sent me a link, so that I could see them. They were on some random user-submitted amateur porn site.

He had posted a paragraph at the top, and with each picture he had included my humiliating descriptions, which I had not expected, but made me both utterly ashamed and very turned on. His paragraph said:

"This is my slut slave, isn't she disgusting? I told her to go sit in a tub of her own piss, and she did it! What a whore! Feel free to comment, I will be sure to pass the comments along to her."

I nearly cried when I read all of that, but my body once again betrayed me as I felt more wetness between my thighs. "You like it, toy?" he asked me, and I told him that I hated it and loved it. His only reply was "lol."

As the weeks went by, comments began to accumulate on my pictures, and each time a new one was posted, Sir would send me the link again so that I could see what someone had said about me. I had never posted naked pictures of myself on the internet for the public to view before, and each time I saw them, I was humiliated anew.

The comments were all vulgar and crass, and each one made me wet. Every time someone said that they masturbated to my pictures, Sir made me masturbate to them as well, just to make sure that I did not forget my humility. To this day, there are still occasionally comments posted to my pictures, and the impact has not yet worn off. With each fresh viewing of them, my shame is renewed, and yet, with each fresh viewing, my cunt gets wet again.