Peeing on the Peeper Ch. 05

The Leather Man from Domestic Dungeons parked his vintage AC Cobra in front of the house and I opened the door to let him enter. I had been instructed by my wife to wear only a thong for his Friday afternoon visit.

A tall, swarthy man in his 50s, wearing a bright white shirt, black leather trousers with a black leather waistcoat eyed me with amusement. "Nice, I love thongs," he said, in a deep western drawl, while clumping into the house in his highish-heeled dark brown cowboy boots.

"I'm here to see the beautiful Barbara," he drawled, then leered and fingered his pencil-slim black moustache. "You lucky young fucker, you! I bet she's sensational in the sack!"

Ignoring his disgusting comments, I asked him to follow me and led the way to the kitchen eating area, where Barbara was enjoying a cup of coffee. "Nice buns," commented the Leather Man, clumping along behind me.

I stepped back and ushered him into the kitchen. "The Leather Man, darling," I announced and the dungeon maker walked to Barbara's table, bent over and planted what he probably thought was a courtly kiss on her proffered hand.

"Please take a seat, Leather Man, or may I call you LM?" asked my wife, who was actually fluttering her eyelashes at him!

"Peeper, fetch the Leather Man a cup of coffee," she snapped and the caller took a seat.

"Call me Lash, ma'am, that's my nickname," said the visitor, accepting a large mug of piping black coffee from me. "Now, what is it you're lookin' at, ma'am? A nice little room to keep naughty ol' hubby here in line, eh?" Barbara grinned: "Precisely, I'm looking for something really comfy for me and my friends, and something really uncomfortable for the Peeper here."

Leather Man took several swigs of his coffee and squinted at me. "What'd he do?"

My wife sighed, and indicated I should replenish her mug. "He started off as a Peeping Tom - typical, since his fuckin' name is Tom," she told the man. "Then, when he was punished by me and my lady friends for being a peeper it became obvious he was a piss freak."

Leather Man looked at me with new interest. "Wow, a piss slave! I've got some young boys who'd love to spend some time with him. OK, why the torture chamber?"

Barbara grinned. "Well, it appears that on top of his piss fetish he's also into fucking one of my best friends, and not only that, but her fuckin' daughter, too!" she told him. "So I've decided to make him pay for it."

Leather Man looked at me once more. "You lucky young slave," he grinned. "Well, ma'am," he announced, swilling down the rest of his coffee, "show me where you want it, tell me what you wanna pay and I'll work out what equipment you'll need and do the sums."

We all trooped down into the basement beneath Barbara's mansion. In a dark corridor, she opened a door, flicked on a light and illuminated the main room in our basement. It was almost empty, save for two old sets of golf clubs, a past it work-out bench and a long discarded lawn mower.

Leather Man paced out the length and width of the basement and said: "It's roomy, I make it about 40 feet by 30 feet, nice high stud. I can make this into a torture chamber fit for a king." Then he looked at me. "How many people you gonna have playin' around with him in here at any one time, ma'am?" he asked.

Barbara did a count in her head. "Let's see, there's five of us ladies, plus one daughter, plus one of the lady's sisters. That's seven and the slave makes eight. Do we have enough room?"

Leather Man nodded. "Sure do, in fact you could probably have a party of about a dozen ladies for Peeper here, ma'am - you lucky ol' devil," he grinned at me, lasciviously.

"It's just that I need to know how much furniture we need for spectators before I get around to decidin' how much torture equipment you'll need. I reckon two nice leather couches, opposite each other on the long walls, and possibly four easy chairs.

"That'll seat 10 ladies in the audience while you've got two workin' on the slave, ma'am," said Leather Man. "Now, what kinda' torture gear we lookin' at?"

Barbara looked a little blank. "I've really no idea, I'm in your hands there, Lash," she smiled.

"Righto, ma'am," he said. "If I wuz you, I'd go for a portable floggin' frame, a pillory, a floggin' bench, a torture bench - and you still wanna play water sports with 'im?"

"Definitely," said my wife, nodding her head firmly, "I want him to have some pleasure down here."

"Well, I suggest a little paddlin' pool, room for him and about three ladies to piss on 'im," said Leather Man.

"Then I'll work out how many whips, floggers and paddles you're gonna need, plus some cock and ball torture stuff and a couple of electro torture devices - you're gonna want to give him electro torture, I take it?"

Barbara looked confused: "Is it safe?"

Leather Man nodded. "Sure is, there's a new toy on the market - you'll need two, of course - which can give him sharp shocks on his cock and balls and on his anus but which won't do any permanent damage. I've got one subby who likes to play that way for hours!"

"Why two?" asked my wife.

Leather Man looked at me, a sort of "We know why, don't we slave?" look, then back at my wife.

"Well, see, two's perfect 'cos you can have one work on his cock and balls, while the other works on his arse and, er pardon me, ma'am, his chutney chute!"

"Oh, I see," said Barbara, obviously relishing the idea.

"Right, ma'am," said Leather Man, "I'll do a preliminary tot up, then get back to you with my quote. By the way - what about the walls?"

Barbara had an answer for that one: "I thought rather lush, red velvet drapes would be ideal."

"Sure would, ma'am," said Leather Man, "it'll make the place sexier'n hell. Nice lush pile carpet, black to contrast?"

Barbara agreed.

"A mirrored ceiling and smart spotlight lighting, 'kay?" asked Leather Man.

Barbara nodded, then ever the businesswoman, asked: "Can you give me a ball park figure?"

Leather Man pursed his lips. "You're not aimin' to stint on the details, are you, ma'am?"

Barbara agreed: "Money no object."

Leather Man did a quick mental sum: "Say round $125,000 to $150,000, what with labour."

Barbara said: "Sounds very reasonable, Lash."

"Oh, there's one way you kin get a discount, ma'am," said Leather Man, with what looked like a leer.

"Really?" asked Barb, with one of her fetching smiles.

"You could let me play around with Peeper here a coupla days while I'm supervisin' the work," said Leather Man.

I recoiled in horror, but my wife saved my proverbial bacon!

"Sorry, Lash," she smiled, "but the only things going up his arse - chutney chute, as you so wittily put it - will be the electro shockers and my dildo. This one's a lady's plaything."

Leather Man looked at me, obviously disappointed, but still with a leer and laughed: "You lucky little ol' slave."

Barbara and her new gay friend left, I switched off the light, and followed them upstairs. At the door, Leather Man again deposited what I was sure would be a slimy kiss on my wife's hand and said he'd be back with an accurate quote and if all was acceptable would start work on Monday - three days away!

Closing the door, Barbara smiled sweetly at me and said: "I'm going upstairs for a lie down. Be up there in five minutes - all this talk of torture and electro shockers, and paddling pools has made me quite randy!"

I checked the kitchen clock carefully - Barbara hated me to be early almost as much as she hated to be kept waiting - and when four minutes had ticked by I walked slowly upstairs into our master bedroom.

Barbara was lying back on the black satin sheets, face up, crotchless panties in lurid red framing her pretty little pussy, a hint of brown hair surrounding her snatch.

I threw off my thong and knelt on the bed, my erect cock pressing against the slippery satin and traced my tongue over the pussy that controlled me.

Barbara let out a small sigh as I sucked on her clit, then lowered my mouth to her cunt, which was weeping a flood of sex juice and tasted like nectar - not like her pee nectar, but nectar nonetheless. I switched lower, flicking down some of her fluid to the entrance to her anus, reaming around its brown tightness and making it moist and musky.

"Fuck me!" I heard my wife call, in a husky, throaty cry and I raised myself and pressed my quivering cock lips against her cunt, then drove forward, at the same time planting a perfumed mouth on hers and kissing her with unashamed, abandoned lust.

"You randy old philanderer," she smiled, "you're absolutely adoring all this, aren't you?"

I looked down at her lovely suntanned face and big red lips and paused in my thrusting.

"I don't know about the electro stuff," I said, "it all sounds a bit scary."

"Balls," smiled Barb, "I saw your cock in that thong while Lash was talking about the way two dommes can work on one slave at the same time. You were nearly coming in your pants, you randy old prick!"

I lowered my mouth to hers again and we smooched, until Barb insisted on a positional switch. When she was in the dominant position, she pushed herself up so her arms were straight and I ran my mouth over her lovely 36-inch breasts, nibbling and sucking at her pink nipples, which stood out on her globes like organ stops.

Soon the attentions from my mouth and the thrusting of her pubic bone against me, combined with the pressure of my stiffy in her cunt, began to work its usual magic and with a cry of "Yes, yes," Barbara soared to her climax.

She collapsed on top of me, burying her face on my well- developed pectorals - look, I do body building, I'm vain, OK? - when the phone started a shrill ringing.

"Get it, hon," Barbara panted, "I'm too excited to talk."

I picked up the phone, grunted a "Hi, Tom here" and there was Keisha's sweet-as-honey voice purring.

"Hiya, Peeper, how're ya doin'?" said the sultry-voiced vixen.

"Oh, hi Keisha," I replied, "I'll put Barb on in a moment, she's catching her breath."

Barb leaned over, pressed the loudspeaker button and signalled for me to pass her the phone.

"Hi Keisha, sorry about that, but I've just had the Peeper provide his orgasm delivery service. How's it hanging?"

Keisha's voice came over the loudspeaker: "Thought I'd call and find out about the Leather Man's visit."

Barbara: "He's giving me a final quote on Monday and can have the work done in a week."

Keisha: "And - and? How is he?"

Barbara: "Oh, a disappointment. I mean he's yummy, but I'm afraid he prefers little boys - well, maybe not so little. He'd far rather get it on with the Peeper than with me."

Keisha: "Quelle fuckin' dommage! Still, as the French say, c'est la vie. Now about tomorrow at my place, bring a sample of piss in a bottle, enough to fill a wine glass."

Barbara: "Sure, hon, but why?"

Keisha: "We're gonna have a blindfold taste testing, just like those wine buffs. We'll have glasses of wine - oops, piss, lined up for the Peeper, he'll drink each one down and then say which domme's piss it was."

Barbara: "Sounds like great fun, he's stroking his cock thinking about it, the old perv!"

Keisha: "And Peeper?"

Me: "Yes, Keisha?"

Keisha: "We want to do this properly, so you read up overnight on all the fuckin' stupid terms those wine fuckers use - you know, bouquet, nose, length, back taste, all the crap."

Me: "Yes, Keisha."

Keisha: "See you two tomorrow - make it about 11. Byeee!"

And the connection was cut. Barbara then stared at me, a look of wanton lust on her face.

"Oh I'm just so randy again, Peeper, all that talk of a wine tasting for you has made me wet again. Down you go, boy!"

And with that I returned my eager tongue to her pussy once more, licking and sucking on the juices that had arrived since Keisha's call.

"Now fuck me," ordered Barbara and I rose to press my cock into her slippery smooth cunt. Within moments she had issued another directive: "Roll over!"

I did as bidden, then, after a few perfunctory thrusts on my stiff shaft, Barbara lifted her breasts to my mouth, her arms stretched straight and commanded: "Orgasm me!"

Again I sucked on her tasty titties until she shrieked "Fuck me, Peeper, fuck me" and came to another climax on my sweating, heaving body.

My wife lay on my chest for a few moments, then pulled off me, rising to plant her pussy inches from my mouth.

"All that talk of the torture chamber, the piss tasting test and those two orgasms has got me bursting for a piss, Peeper.

"It's time you checked out my piss again - if you get it wrong during the taste test tomorrow, you'll fuckin' pay!"

Barbara then prepared herself for my "refreshment", sliding her snatch over my lips for a moment, before rising slightly from my lips.

"OK, Peeper," she snapped, "do as the dentist says!"

I opened wide.

To be continued...