Rage Against the Latrine Ch. 26

Natasha entered the bathroom as Nessie finished and my fiancée looked down at me. "You're disgusting," she spat. Her leather boot rested on my chest, pinning me to the floor as she spoke. "I'm going to untie you, and you either walk out of this door in those clothes or you go buck naked. Return to our room and shower."

"Can I wash here? Please?"

Natasha's boot dug into my skin. "Fuck off. And when you have a shower, clean that arse of yours."

I gulped and nodded; I knew what that meant. Her fingers unclipped the metal rings around my wrists and I scrambled to my feet, dripping pee from my sodden clothes. She held out a key card, and I took a towel from the rail to dry my soaked hair and face. 

She snatched the white cotton from my hands and swore at me, thrusting the navy plastic card into my wet palm. "Go!" she demanded. I paused; I didn't want to streak through the corridors, but I stunk of fetid filthiness. The hotel was not huge and heaving, but I could easily meet someone the moment I stepped outside of the room. My suit, socks, and shoes were not where I had left them, and I saw the scowling glare of my fiancée. "I have your stuff safe upstairs. Now fuckin' move, slut!" She barked, and I nodded.

My heart pounded as I opened the bedroom door. The sounds of televisions from neighbouring bedrooms faintly echoed in the corridor. To my right, I heard the commotion of the bar and reception, and straight ahead was the entrance to the stairway. I stepped into the stairwell, looking up the staircase and hearing nothing. My bare feet left wet outlines on the lino as I took the stairs two at a time. 

When I reached the second floor, I heard yells and voices above me. A couple had stepped into the stairwell from the top storey as I peered through the glass panel. 

Three people stood on the other side of the door, waiting for the lift. I gulped; I couldn't go into the corridor without meeting strangers, and the voices of the guests from the top floor grew louder as they descended the stairs. My skin, soaked with piss, felt more clammy. Frozen in fear, my mind panicked. I watched through the window, desperate for the loiterers to depart. 

"We could take the stairs!" One of them muttered and my heart skipped. I considered bolting to the first floor as the chattering reached the storey above. I took a step back when the most welcome of dings sounded from the other side of the panel.

I gave them five seconds to enter the lift before I pushed open the glass door and sprinted, running past them and along the corridor. They saw a man in his underwear, and a long stained dress shirt and a second or two after I had rounded the corner. They probably smelt the piss, but I couldn't wait any longer. I collapsed against the wall, pressing the key card into the lock and discarded my clothing as I entered our normal en-suite.

I breathed lungfuls of air as I showered in the hot, clean steam. A blissful cleansing as I washed the vile waste from my skin. I smiled as I recounted the constant supply of pee splashing over me. The soothing submissiveness I felt as stream after stream of warm golden yellow liquid soaked me, and after I finished my shower, I took the douching kit which my fiancée had left and cleaned my insides.

It was typical Natasha; degrade, humiliate and defile me with lashings of piss, and then sensually peg me until I was exhausted. I loved her unconditionally, and when I stepped out of the en-suite, she smiled at me, leaning against the wall with a can of beer in her hand. She had a black strapon dildo and a large bottle of lubricant on the desk, alongside her enormous suitcase.

"Get on the bed," she ordered. "Arse up. Did you enjoy your little treat?"

"It was disgusting," I replied as I knelt in the middle of the duvet.

"So yes, then?"

"It was fabulous. And nasty, as always." She chuckled as she pulled my feet, dragging me down the mattress, to where she had a pair of soft ankle cuffs that fastened to the metal rail at the base of the bedframe. 

"Kneel up," she demanded, and she attached a fabric collar to my neck, affixed with velcro. Her hands gripped my left wrist and pulled it behind my back to fasten onto a strap connected to the black choker, and she repeated this with my right hand. She had tied my arms behind me and restrained my ankles to the bottom of the bedframe. My exposed rump hung invitingly over the side of the mattress as she gently patted it and pressed on my shoulders to push my face into the bed.

I couldn't see everything what she did next; I know she put a white towel underneath me. She photographed me and squirted lubricant into my backside, but there was a tense two-minute wait as she readied herself.

The door creaked, and I looked across at the band entering the room. And three of the strangers filling the bedroom. "Wow! You weren't joking," Hannah squealed. I saw the punk rock crop-top on the lithe woman as she wandered to the side of the bed, staring at my restrained nudity.

"Of course not," Natasha replied, rubbing my exposed buttcheeks. "You keep the fucking bitches in line. I told you that. I have plenty of dildos and harnesses. This little slut knows who is boss." The smooth tip of a smaller dong pressed against my lubricated whorl as my fiancée slowly pushed the toy into my butt. I groaned as she spoke, slapping my buttocks. "I got the whore to clean himself. He's so obedient."

My stiff prick twinkled as my soulmate described me like that. The assembled audience opened beer cans as they observed my defilement at the end of Natasha's dildo. She held the back of my wrists for leverage, pulling me onto her cock as she fucked me. 

I drifted; the entourage heightened the submission as they watched, commented, and joked about my situation. Natasha had restrained me, plundered me and humiliated me and my loins radiated horniness. My soul relaxed and floated, savouring my fiancée's control and my docile capitulation. 

Another penetrator replaced Natasha as the band donned harnesses and dildos, taking turns to fuck me. I recognised the voices as the red-haired Yasmin and inked Maddison, powered their bigger toys into my sanctuary and left me panting and desperate for release. Nessie and Faye were more measured as they sodomised me.

The wildchild of Hannah watched with glee, and I saw Natasha put a strapon harness around her waist. The fan had to remove her shorts and my fiancée selected my favourite black dildo. Thick, stout, with realistic veins and a slight curve that rubbed against my prostate. "If I do this, you do it naked," she said to her friend with a wide grin. "I've never done it before. You have, Juliette. You've pegged your man!" 

Her mate chuckled and replied, but I never heard the response. I was too focused on the party in my backside and I groaned as Faye's cock slipped from my well-used hole. Pre-cum poured from my dick over the previous thirty minutes and a large wet spot had formed on the towel. 

Natasha helped Hannah line up the condom-covered dildo with my whorl and to coat the appendage with slick lubricant. My body sunk as she edged forward, pressing the rounded glans of her rubber prick into me. I sighed as she tentatively filled my rectum, driving the toy deeper into me until it flicked across my prostate. 

It felt good. Fantastic. I ground my hips as she rhythmically fucked me. Slowly, as she seemed scared or intimidated by the act of butt-fucking a guy. 

But she did not need to be hesitant. Natasha said words to her and Hannah held onto the strap attached to my collar, ramming her fake prick faster and faster into me. I groaned with every exhalation. Pre-cum poured from my dick as my body lurched into a dry orgasm that sizzled every fibre of my being.

And another. Hannah's firm motions caused me to submerge inside my pool of orgasmic arousal as explosions detonated deep within my loins. Pre-cum streamed out of my cock as the first-time sodomite brought me closer to a bone-shaking, violent climax.

"He's quite the fucking slut!" someone said, and they were not wrong. I begged her to go faster, harder, deeper. I wanted Hannah to roughly fuck the orgasm from me; my body itched for my peak and tears streamed from my eyes as I gasped and grunted in desperation.

I saw Hannah's friend on my right. The tall, nude woman wobbled as she watched her mate sodomise me. Small bosom, long golden hair, a fuller body and a thick forest of pubic thatch. She grinned as she noticed my expression, and put the cheapest, flimsiest harness from our collection over her naked frame. The short, thin black dildo slotted in the O Ring and she used both hands to roll a condom over the shaft.

I didn't want Hannah to stop, but when Juliette filled my backside, she grabbed my waist to pull me onto her prick. She drunkenly sniggered. Her friend photographed her. "Did Dave really enjoy this?" The stranger asked.

"Yeah. Ask him. Do you like this, whore?" Juliette laughed as she painfully slapped my buttcheeks, sending me deeper into my subspace. She dominated me, thrusting her cock deep into me as she bawled with laughter. My climax built, but she wasn't quite hitting the right angle for me and her penetration kept me on the edge of ecstasy.

When she withdrew, I looked at Natasha. "Hannah, please," I begged. "So close." My fiancée roared with a humiliating cachinnation. "I need it."

"Do you want to fuck this slut again?" She asked her guest, who coyly giggled. The audience snickered and a few moments later, I felt the amazing feeling of Hannah's cock filling my arse. I loudly groaned as her prick stroked my prostate.

And she was assertive in her penetration, vigorously pounding my butt with her dick. My pleasure intensified within, building in my loins as I whimpered. My body fizzed with sexual energy as she smashed her toy over my sensitive button, bringing me closer and closer to my orgasm.

I could not prevent it and no longer cared who witnessed it. I cried as I shook; the bubble of tension in my prostate burst and a wave of intense sexual ecstasy cascaded through my torso, electrifying every pore in my flesh. 

Cum drained from my prick, and Hannah kept pounding my butt. A second orgasm detonated within me before the first had finished and my skin sizzled as the tsunami of pleasure radiated from my backside. My toes curled, my muscles pulsed, and my soul fizzled as the incredible stranger brought me to ecstasy.

Breathless, I yelled in extreme bliss as my body sparkled, savouring the aftershocks. 

There was silence. The large pool of cum underneath me was a testament to the skill of Hannah and her magical dildo. My muscles relaxed, and I could not move. I never sensed what was around me; my body drained of all senses as I processed the euphoric sensations floating across my flesh. 

I felt Natasha's hands on my ankles and wrists, but even after she untied me, I could not move. Her fingers dragged the towel from underneath me, and she wiped my dripping cock. I opened my eyes to see just Hannah and her friend in the room. 

"Thank you," I muttered at the bemused girl. "You were incredible." I pushed myself into a sitting position and took a large lungful of air, spent from the evening's exertions. 

"Really?" Hannah asked incredulously, and I nodded. 

I was naked, and the clothed women smiled as I reiterated my gratitude. "Totally. That was amazing." The young woman blushed. My pregnant fiancée re-entered the room from the en-suite, having deposited the cum-covered towel in the cleaning basket, and smiled at me. "And thank you," I said to her. "That was the most mind-blowing experience."

"Good," she muttered and picked up two white T-shirts from her suitcase. "These are just leftover merch, but as promised, a signed shirt." She took a permanent marker pen from her suitcase and put the clothing on the desk. "Thanks for butt-fucking my boy, Natasha," she read out as she scribbled it on the garments and passed them to the strangers. 

I thanked them once more before they left, and I cuddled my fiancée as we drifted to bed. My partner caressed and spooned the award they had won as I coddled her.

We saw the two women at the morning buffet in the hotel dining room-cum-bar, and they wore the clothing which Natasha had provided to them a few hours previous, with the humiliating autograph daubed across them.

I blushed when I recognised it, as at the time I imagined that every person in the hotel knew that the alluring women had sodomised me, but in hindsight, I doubt anyone read it.

But that day was a scarcity; I rarely saw all the girls together. Natasha and the band began work on their eighth album and often travelled to Watford to practise in their own space. I missed having them in the annexe, but I spent at least three days a week in London at my new employer. I had a desk and a small office on the second floor of a managed block, near the British Library; it was within walking distance of the mainline train stations and Underground stops, and I enjoyed my lunchtime walks.

We had plenty of customers to serve and manage, and the sales team kept adding me to meetings with prospective clients. The virtual calls were OK, but I had to travel to some, and that wasted valuable time. One such gathering, on the other side of the city centre, with a brokerage house, ended with their Chief Technical Architect declaring to the assembled coterie of sycophantic acolytes that our platform "was not mature enough" for them to consider as they were "a serious outfit." 

I seethed for two days because of his withering slander, and I needed Natasha to help me relax. She restrained me, spanked my exposed buttocks, whipped my back, urinated over me and then forced me to provide analingus and cunnilingus to abate my tension.

Two weeks after the show, our hedonism appeared in the latest Popbitch. "Which band, known for their wild adventures, engaged in golden showers and a pegging gangbang to celebrate their recent awards success? Best not tell Santa, eh?" Natasha chuckled as I read out the newsletter to her. 

"They are so obsessed with us," she replied. "I love them to bits, but there are so many other crazy musicians. It helps our image, though. You know the teen princess from Disney who had a bubblegum hit?" I looked blankly at her, and she shrugged. "I can't remember her name, either. I know there are fucking hundreds of 'em but this little angel has contacted us. Faye's dealing with it because her record company has asked the girls to do a single with her. They want to, umm... rebrand her... as less goody-two-shoes and more rebellious."

"Are you going to do it?"

Natasha snorted. "Faye said yes. She's met her. I'm just looking forward to the fucking video 'cause if they need her to have some of our attitude, then we are not holding back. She needs to rock with us! The whole nine yards."

"Oh," I muttered. "Does that mean she might get the full Bitches Against experience? With their innovative toilets? And submissive sluts."

"Perhaps," she suggested, and chuckled. "If we can wangle the opportunity. But I think we might."

I didn't believe life could become much sweeter.