The Teenage Dominatrix Ch. 09

5 cans of shaving foam.

5 cans of whipped cream.

3 litres of ready mixed custard.

2 tubs of ice cream.

Chocolate sauce.

Stephen bought the items requested by the young dominatrix, and Anne-Marie had offered to take them to her house. He noticed she purchased a lot of similar items, along with a more usual weekly shopping, but was too embarrassed to ask what he thought her niece had planned.

Anne-Marie voiced her thoughts as she drove from the supermarket, past the end of Stephen's road. "I think me telling Victoria where I am going tomorrow with Mistress Spanx has given her ideas. Make sure you bring a spare set of clothes with you."

"OK," Stephen muttered, and Anne-Marie put her hand on his knee as she stopped the car, just before the T-Junction.

"Don't be embarrassed. I've seen it all before. Although, I have seen more of you than any other of Victoria's... friends. She's a lovely girl, deep down. Just..."

"Yeah, she's wonderful," Stephen interrupted and blushed. "I wish I'd known her sooner." Anna-Marie coughed to hide her sniggering as the young man left the car and traversed the path to his house in the twilight.

He took Anne-Marie's advice and after he returned home from work; he got changed, made a quick dinner, put a spare pair of clothes in his backpack and walked to Victoria's home.

Anne-Marie's car was not in the drive. He heard music and noise from the garden, and called over the six-foot garden gate instead of pressing the bell.

Victoria was bottomless; she flung open the gate and cocked her head at the startled man, eyeing her toned legs and hairless cunt. She sniggered and swigged cider from the can. "Come in."

He recognised the two other ladies in the garden, both naked. Susie was a short, fiery Londoner, who spoke with a trace of Cockney in her voice. She had dyed her strawberry-blonde hair and had pierced her nipple and belly-button. Underneath the common exterior was a smart, studious girl. She had a place at Bristol University to study nursing, waiting for her.

Niamh Adjei was from Croydon; she was a tall, leggy, powerful girl who had aspirations of making it in Women's Football. Her espresso skin was tightly wrapped around muscles across her body and she sniggered as he entered the garden.

"Niamh's on the vodka and Diet Coke, I'm on the cider, and Susie is on the Bacardi Breezers," Victoria said and gestured to the open kitchen door. "You have pizzas and party food to cook. Take your shoes and socks off."

"Just my shoes and socks?"

"Yeah, keep your shirt, shorts and knickers on," she teased.

"OK." He waited for more instruction, but none came and he walked into the kitchen, piled with dirty plates on the worktop, to see a pile of uncooked food on the counter. Stephen tidied and cleaned the room while the food cooked.

Victoria held out a cider to him when he put the last of the trays on the table, and he hesitated. "Don't you want a drink?" She asked, with a mischievous glint in her eye. He nodded and thanked her. As he held out his hand, she took it away and put it back in the bucket of ice by her feet. The girls laughed cruelly.

Keeping eye contact with him, she picked up a pink plastic beaker and stood up from the chair. She squatted, pushed the beaker between her legs, and released her bladder. Stephen's eyes widened as the liquid hit the inside of the camping cup. The girls squealed in excitement as she held it out to him. "There's your drink. Fresh cider. Say thank you."

"Thanks," he muttered and took the warm cup from her. They waited for his next move.

"Now drink it."

His eyes widened. Victoria glared at him and she licked her lips. His hands shook as he brought the cup of her urine to his mouth. His heart jumped, his cock strained against the cage.

Susie hollered. "He's not, is he? He is? He fucking is? How mental is that?" They watched the car-crash moment as Stephen took a deep breath and gulped at the drink.

Stephen had read stories of female dominatrixes forcing slaves to swallow their piss, and he knew that the quicker the acrid fluid is drunk the better. He tried to do the same, and was grateful that Victoria's liquid consumption had been considerable that evening to dilute the foul pungency of her lightly coloured pee.

He drained the cup and had to resist the urge to throw up as the taste registered with his brain. The caustic flavour was revolting and his body reacted in disgust at the sudden flood of liquid waste entering his stomach. "Good boy," Victoria simpered and patted him on the head. "My aunt told me I had to do the gardening today as she had the fertiliser delivered, so guess what you are doing?"

"Of course," he replied with his stomach still heaving, and she gestured to the flowerbeds around the garden.

"Go weed them." Stephen strode to the shed, got a bucket and knelt down over the first bed, warmed by the setting sun in the cloudless sky. He could taste the remnants of Victoria's piss in his mouth as he pulled at the weeds which covered the beds between the flowers. He could hear the filthy chatter and laughter from the chairs in the centre of the lawn, as they ate the party food and drank alcohol. Victoria summoned him after twenty minutes, "All that hard work so far, you must be thirsty." He eyed her as she took his pink cup and passed it to the black athlete. Victoria clicked her fingers. "Are you?"

"I... I... Yes, Victoria."

"Then ask Niamh to let you have a drink."

Stephen blushed bright red as he asked the black footballer to urinate for him.

Niamh flicked her braids from her face, and squatted, holding the cup against the black fuzz of her cunt, and filled it two-thirds full. Victoria raised her eyebrows at him. "Thank you," he said when Niamh passed it to him, and he took a deep breath and downed the biting liquid.

His stomach rebelled, squirming and belching, as it wanted to expel the astringent fluid entering it, but Stephen maintained control with deep breaths. He put his cup on the floor and returned to his flowerbeds. Niamh's piss had a harsher, more acidic flavour than Victoria's pee. Fifteen minutes later, Victoria gave him a cup of water, and then fifteen minutes after that, Susie filled the cup for him.

Her urine was sweeter, and more delicate on the nose, but she squealed in delight as the "piss drinker" swallowed her waste. Five cups of pee and two cups of water, Stephen needed the toilet. "No, of course you can't go," Victoria snapped when he asked. "Go water the garden. And use a can not a hosepipe."

The sound of the water filling the plastic watering can was a mental torture, as the pressure on his bladder increased. He squirmed in discomfort, eager to run to the toilet and release the stored piss. "Here, have another," Victoria called and passed him the overflowing pink cup.

"I really need to go."

"Have another drink," Victoria demanded and passed him the cup full of steaming, warm urine. "Guess who provided it to you?"

His cheeks blushed as he thanked her and drank the foul-tasting liquid. "You, Victoria," he guessed, and Victoria smirked.

"He's getting to know what my piss is like," she giggled. "OK, hanging baskets need watering and then you need to do the trees and bushes."

Stephen groaned. He heard laughter and taunting as he did as they had instructed him; the taste of Victoria's piss burnt on his tongue, but his stomach was no longer rejecting the regular influx of urine as much as before. He stretched and crouched to reach the baskets and troughs, painfully pressuring his bladder. He gripped his cock cage on multiple occasions, and Victoria summoned him to the middle of the garden.

"Do you really need to go pee-pee?"

"Yeah," he panted. "Please. I'm about to wet myself."

Victoria looked at Susie to her left, and Niamh to her right with a solemn expression. "Total lack of control."

"Please," he cried. He hopped from one leg to the other, with his hands clasped against his crotch. "I need to go. Really need to go."

"He's so eager that I think the moment he goes into your bathroom, he'll just pee up the walls. You know what men are like," Niamh said.

"Yeah, boys bogs are gross!" Susie added. "He should go outside."

"Nah," Niamh muttered. "You don't want no boy pissing in your flowerbeds. It'll kill everything."

"But..."

"Please," Stephen cried. Tears rolled down his face as he doubled up at the waist, and Victoria got up from her chair and rubbed his belly affectionately. "Sssshhhh. We're just sorting out your problem!"

The pressure on Stephen's bladder was too much, and he gasped as a squirt of pee shot from the end of his cock and soaked into his briefs. His heart leapt, and he clamped his hands done further on his crotch.

But it was too late. The floodgates had been opened and his body relinquished control and his bladder emptied. The girls squealed and laughed. His cheeks burnt with humiliation as his light blue briefs and pale shorts darkened with piss that rolled down his legs.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "It's too much."

"See, no control," Victoria snapped. "Look at the state of you! Wetting your shorts and your knickers! That's it, we ban you from my toilets."

"But..."

"No!" She ordered. "And you have a lawn to cut." Susie smirked as Victoria pointed to the shed once more. He hauled the heavy petrol-driven lawnmower out of the wooden hut and felt the touch of Victoria behind him. "Don't move," she called and pulled his waistband from his shorts. "You really soaked yourself," she mused and giggled.

He jumped when the unexpected hissing noise accompanied a cold, wet sensation at the base of his back and buttocks. "What?" He asked.

"Ssssh!" Victoria muttered and let the waistband spring back. She patted him on the buttocks, pressing the foam around his balls and cage. "Now, go do the garden."

The sodden fabric and algid foam gave Stephen a new sensation as he started on the lawn. The grass cuttings collected in a box and every time he had to empty it, the girls called him over to them.

The first time Susie took a carton of custard, and emptied it over his cock cage in his briefs, laughing loudly as she saw his caged dick. Cool goo seeped from his wet briefs and down his shorts, leaving globules of custard as he mowed the grass.

The second time the girls called him, Niamh dripped chocolate sauce over his shoulders and body, and then Victoria added several scoopfuls of melting ice cream to his briefs.

The cold squelchy solid sent a shock to his nervous system as it pressed against his arsehole and melted to leak into his shorts. They openly filmed him, as they had done all evening, and the inebriated girls whooped in delight at his abject humiliation.

With the cuttings box full for the last time, Victoria pointed to a barren corner of the garden and with a giggle grabbed the bag of foodstuffs. "Strip," she ordered, and Stephen gratefully peeled the garments from his body. The girls covered his skin, particularly below the waist, in streaks of custard and ice cream. They doused chocolate sauce liberally over his skin. "Kneel," she ordered, with a gleeful giggle to her voice. Stephen's knees hit the dirt.

"He's quite filthy," Niamh laughed.

"Disgusting little critter," Victoria snapped. Susie squirted a can of whipped cream onto a paper plate, smirked and smashed the pie into Stephen's face, covering his fringe with the mess. Stephen closed his eyes as the pie hit, and he felt a multitude of substances hit his body.

Custard cascaded over his head and dripped down his body. The partying girls smashed creampies into his body, with each impact causing the drunk women to holler. One of them pushed him backwards so that he was spread-eagled on the ground, and Niamh dropped cold melting ice-cream on his cock cage, sending shivers across his body.

He wiped his eyes to see Susie standing over him. Her shaven cunt, a couple of feet from his face, and she laughed at Niamh before releasing a stream of hot piss onto him, covering his face and hair. He held his breath, panting once she finished.

Niamh did the same, standing over his waist and laughing as she released her pee against his cock cage, clearing the plastic prison of slime. "That's one beta male," she called to Victoria, who stood a few feet from Stephen on the grass. She held his spare clothes from the rucksack and threw them on the floor.

Stephen, horrified, squealed. "No, don't. I need them."

"So do I," she called and squatted over his spare T-shirt and shorts. Stephen shuddered as her waste soaked into the pale garments and she pulled out the last remaining carton of custard that she emptied over them. "You don't mess with what I have planned for you, OK?"

"Your aunt said..."

"Now, let's get you cleaned up. Firstly, get a plastic bag from the shed, and put all your dirty clothes in it. Then stand there, while we hose you down." Stephen shuddered once more.

"But... that's cold."

"I know," Victoria cooed and motioned for her two friends to stand back from the gunged and humiliated man.

The jet of cold water stunned his body, paralysing his muscles as the girls wielded the hose to wash the mess down his flesh. "Turn around," Victoria ordered. "And spread your buttcheeks."

The girls roared with laughter as he complied. He arched his back when they hit his tailbone and squirmed as they pressed the hose against his balls.

After a few minutes, he stood shivering in front of them, and Victoria told him to get a towel and his change of clothing from a canvas bag underneath her chair.

He tentatively opened the bag and dried himself on the pink towel. "Oh, you gotta be joking."

"Any more word and I'll remove them," Victoria warned. She sniggered as he pulled the gingham blue skirt to his waist. The polyester garment reached the middle of his thighs, and tugged it as low as he could away with, before putting the white tank top over his head. Susie photographed him on her phone and giggled when she saw the picture.

"Do I get underwear?" He asked, and she shook her head. "Please."

"No, numbnuts. Now go, before I feed you something else to drink!"