Thirst Ch. 08

Chapter 8, The Lifestyle

My weekend stay with Jim and Maria was eye-opening to say the least.

Watching Maria in her role as full-time slave gave me insights to the "lifestyle" as they call it. And I got a taste of it too, helping her with some of her weekend chores: laundry, cleaning, yardwork. I got to clean the toilets, a task I enjoyed.

Maria prepared and served all the meals - I helped with cleanup - and she was not allowed to eat until we were finished. Then she had to eat all the food left on our plates before adding any other leftovers available. But she didn't have to eat on the floor like I did. She was allowed to stand at the kitchen counter as if eating was part of cleaning the dishes, which I guess it was.

The reason I had to eat from a plate on the floor is that Jim said I wasn't allowed on the furniture. "You're not housetrained, so it isn't safe," he said. I did have a few "accidents," peeing on the floor and on myself, but I was never reprimanded, just made to lick up as much as I could before Maria was made to wipe up the rest.

I was supposed to pee in the wading pool which remained in the living room all day Saturday. Jim and Maria both added their piss to it several times until, after dinner, Jim said it was bath time. He had mentioned that he was taking me out "to the club" that evening; apparently Maria was staying home.

I got pretty excited in the bath. I stepped into the pool and lay down on my back in the cool, smelly piss. My cock immediately became hard and began spouting piss in the air that rained down on my chest, hot and stimulating by comparison.. Jim smiled indulgently as I grabbed my cock and adjusted the trajectory so that I could catch some in my mouth.

At his direction, Maria used a soft sponge to wash me all over with piss, paying special attention to my hair, underarms, and crotch. Then I stood on the towel and she gently patted me dry, leaving me smelling even more strongly of piss than after our last bath.

Allowing me to wear only my jeans (no underwear) and my collar and leash, Jim drove me in his Corvette with a stack of towels under my ass to protect the leather seat. We parked in an unpaved lot in the industrial part of town next to a warehouse-style building with a small sign over the single entrance that said "Queue" in rainbow colors.

"No talking and no eye contact with anyone. You're a toilet, nothing more, got it?" Jim admonished me after turning off the car.

"Yes, sir," I nodded.

I had managed to stay dry on our 20-minute drive, but by the time I had climbed out of the low-riding vehicle, I could feel myself starting to leak and, although it was too dark to see it, I felt the piss running down my leg and soaking the front of my jeans. As Jim led me by my leash into the doorway of the club, my dick was getting hard. I had heard of the Queue, the only local night spot catering to the "Queer Community." It had held no interest for me, but things had changed now and I was excited by the humiliation I expected for having wet myself as well as the anticipation: was I going to be used as a toilet?

A large, muscular woman was standing in the doorway. I assumed she was the bouncer; she looked tough enough. Except for her pretty, beautifully made up face and hair, there was nothing soft or feminine about her. "Good evening, Sergeant," she said familiarly. "Got a new slave?" She grinned at me predatorily before wrinkling her nose and adding, "Phew! Smells like a latrine."

"Hey, Selma. Yeah, this is my new toilet. I'm installing it in the bathroom for the evening." I blushed and my cock twitched at his answer. Turning to me, he said, "Get out of those pants," and to Selma, "Is there some place I can leave these clothes? Maybe a trash bag?" By the time I had stripped off my wet, clinging jeans, Selma had procured a black plastic bin liner that we left near the door with my smelly pants inside.

There were maybe twenty or thirty people in the main bar-room, many of them seemingly in costume. The room was fairly well lighted and I could see a lot of leather and exaggerated western and military-style garb as well as noting that I was not the only one on a leash. Several others were naked - both men and women - and one man was on all fours with a tail coming out of his naked ass. He stopped and sniffed me as his owner was walking past us. He then lifted a leg and peed on my calf, wetting my foot warmly as well.

Jim laughed and patted the "dog" on the head before continuing, leading me toward the back of the room into a more dimly lit hallway, We passed a row of cubicles, three-sided stalls open to the hallway. "Glory holes," Jim informed me. All but one were empty; there was a man standing facing the back wall of one stall. We walked to the end of the hall and entered through the door marked "Toilets".

It was a large room, tiled in light grey, brightly lit by florescent ceiling fixtures, with a row of sinks to the left of the door and a whole wall of mirrors at that end of the room, seemingly doubling the space. Opposite the sinks was a row of urinals and there were four toilet stalls to the right. One stall was occupied; from the sound of it, probably by a couple fucking.

Jim led me to a shallow pit between the urinals and the stalls, where a fourth urinal should have been situated. It was rectangular, the same width as the urinals and had a drain in the bottom. I stepped into it; there was just enough room to sit, and Jim then handcuffed me to the pipe that ran along the wall behind me.

"Have fun! I'll be back to check on you later," he said, leaving me alone except for the furtive grunts and moans that wafted from a toilet stall to my left. I was excited, thrilled not only at the prospect of lots of piss to come, but also by the degradation; it made me feel almost giddy with lust to be dehumanized like this, to be used as an object for bodily relief, especially with cocks involved. The fact that I was helpless and completely vulnerable added a dash of fear to my mental state that only made me more eager for abuse. My cock was a hard rod jutting vertically from my lap, reaching almost to my navel. It was rather cool there in the bathroom, but the sounds of the rutting couple and the distinct odor of stale urine in the air kept me in a heated state, anticipating the warmth of fresh piss.

A few minutes later, after what sounded like some kind of climactic event next door, two men emerged from the stall and stood, apparently admiring me, while they adjusted their clothes. "Ooh, look, Daddy!" the smaller one falsettoed. He was clearly an adult male, but he was dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl in a plaid skirt and white blouse. "I need to pee. Can I pee on him?"

"Sure. Pee in his mouth." The other guy looked older and wore a blazer and tie above his tight, faded jeans.

"Oh, thank you, Daddy!" said the schoolgirl. He stepped up close and lifted his skirt, revealing a slim, circumcised cock of about three inches in its soft length. Aiming it at my wide-open mouth, he let go, hitting my chest, dead center on my sternum, before his stream strengthened and he adjusted it to land on target, splashing on my tongue and filling my mouth rapidly with sour, salty waste. I swallowed hungrily and repeatedly until he was done.

Then his partner stepped up. He had opened his jeans and lowered them. His cock, uncut and much thicker, was in his hand and he proceeded to shower me from head to toe, starting with a forceful blast right in the face. I was only able to catch a little in my mouth to enjoy its rank flavor, but I reveled in the warm, tingling shower as he hosed me down, ending by blasting my erect cock with his spray, almost making me cum. As his stream ended, mine began; my piss just fountained up through my erection, tingling erotically.

"Nice!" said the daddy. He stepped in closer. "Here, clean my cock." He put his thick flaccid hose into my mouth and I sucked it clean, tasting the remnants of his cum and the distinct flavor of his partner's ass.

I wasn't alone very much after that. A couple of minutes after the odd couple left, a couple of leather men came in and used me in turn, seemingly taking my presence for granted, and filling me with plenty of good, strong tasting piss. I was deliriously happy as, over time, another dozen or more strangers came and went. Almost no one used the porcelain conveniences; everyone seemed to prefer to fill my mouth or shower my body with their marvelous fluid waste. A couple even ejaculated on my face, masturbating while watching their friends abuse me.

I enjoyed the variety of cocks, all shapes and sizes, and each of them peculiarly attractive in its own way. And I was particularly grateful to those who allowed me the pleasure of sucking on them, exploring their varied lengths and contours. Having a cock in my mouth was becoming even more exciting to me than drinking piss.

Being restrained the whole time only added to the feeling of degradation I felt that had engaged my libido more and more over the last week. Yes, it was a little uncomfortable to have my wrists cuffed above my head, but the vulnerability I felt being a helpless target more than compensated. I was just a thing to be used, abused even.

When Jim came to release me, my arms and legs were stiff, but I was still enjoying my plight. "Don't worry," he said enigmatically. "You're not done yet." Leaving my hands cuffed, he led me by the leash, the wet piss drying coolly on my skin, back the way we had come, past the glory hole stalls, now all occupied. I wondered who was on the receiving ends of those holes. What was it like to service cock after anonymous cock that way? I was not just curious, I was jealous.

We reentered the main bar-room, now packed with all kinds of folks in all manner of dress (and undress). It was like Halloween at a pride parade, and it was loud and boisterous. Jim seemed to know a lot of them; several people greeted him, calling him "Sergeant." Everyone ignored me completely.

When he stopped to converse with a burly guy in leather I felt myself losing control. I turned about 45 degrees to my right so that my pee would land on the floor and not on anyone near me. I saw a look of annoyance on the burly guy's bearded face before I remembered my instructions and averted my gaze.

"What the fuck, Sarge!" he growled. Some of my piss had splashed up onto the man's shiny black boots.

"It's a leaker, Dom," Jim replied. To me he said, "Clean it up!" and pointed down.

I was instantly down on all fours with my lips to the floor sucking up my cold piss.

"Start with the man's boots," Jim commanded.

I dutifully licked the the hard leather clean of the spray and small drops that had sullied the otherwise pristine boot. My dick got hard. I was in a trance of submissive ardor; I felt like a servile creature, hardly worthy of licking the boot of a superior man.

"I'll make it up to you, Brock. I'm putting it in the pillory; you can use it as much as you want. Or you can give it a beating; I know you like that." Jim sounded businesslike, not apologetic.

Brock grunted, "Hunh. Might take you up on that."

Within a few of minutes, we had threaded our way to the far side of the room and through a door marked "playroom".

Here, everything was a sinister red and black. The coarse carpet was solid black; the ceiling and walls were also black, covered in cloth that gave the room a hushed quiet despite the distinct sounds of pain and pleasure. Under the red glow of the ceiling lights, I could see a woman being whipped. She was naked tied to a tall frame in the shape of an "X" and was blindfolded. I could hear the crack of the whip as a man struck her large, sagging breasts. There were others in scattered groups round the large space, but Jim gave me no opportunity to observe.

Jerking my leash, he led me to a wooden contraption with which he quickly had me immobilized, bent over, with my head and hands restrained by a kind of yoke that closed around my neck and wrists. My ankles were spread and cuffed to the legs of the device, and he blindfolded me. I was both scared and aroused. I had found that being abused while helplessly chained to the plumbing had stimulated my submissive arousal. Now I was even more immobile, much more vulnerable, and blind to boot!

"Open." It was Jim's voice, my master's command. I could feel his presence in front of my face. I heard his zipper. I smelled his musk. I opened my mouth, letting my tongue rest on my lower lip. He placed his thick cock into my aperture and thrust it home: all the way in, making me gag. Oral fuck-juices flooded my mouth, bathing the welcome invader. He pulled out. I heard him walk behind me. I knew what that was pressing on my tender ass-pucker and I immediately readied it for penetration. I was ready and eager to receive my master's cock.

I was not quite ready for the vehemence of his violent assault. He plunged his entire length into me in one brutal thrust that inundated me in a wave of intense, hot pain that, mercifully, by the third reciprocating stroke, had magically morphed into an equally hot desire. The initial pain had laid waste to any vestige of will of my own. Now I was overcome with the need to feel each deep pounding thrust rip me open, tear me apart, and turn my entire body into a hot pulsing cunt for him, a receptacle for his hard, demanding meat, a breeding ground for his superior, manly seed.

I don't know how long he ravished me. I must have cum. I might have passed out. Suddenly I was aware that he had stopped, his cock buried deep inside me, and I felt him jerk violently as his balls unloaded their contents into my deepest bowels. A couple of more thrusts, weaker, erratic, and he withdrew, leaving me empty, and I'm sure, gaping.

I felt his hand on my back, steadying himself as he walked back around me, but by the time he had his spent cock to my lips, my nether hole had been stuffed again! Someone new had filled my gaping man-cunt with his own anonymous cock, equally hard, insistent, and demanding of satisfaction as Jim's had been. I didn't really care whose cock it was. I just enjoyed the continuation of the plowing of my pussy while I sucked my master's used cock, cleaning it of ass-juice and cum.

That's how I saw him now, I realized warmly, as my master. I had allowed him to imprison me, immobile and blind. I trusted him. I knew my compliance gave him pleasure. That was gratifying - it gratified some submissive need in me to give him pleasure, especially in ways that degraded me. The more humiliated I felt, the more it stimulated me sexually. This was the secret sauce that Jim had poured into my soul and that was binding me to him in ever strengthening bonds.

I was fucked and DP'd in the pillory by a whole sequence of men who all deposited their sperm loads inside me, making me feel like an appliance, a mere cum deposit for horny guys with no more regard for me than they would have for a used condom or an old dishrag they might masturbate with. It made me dizzy with lust! And the knowledge that all of this was orchestrated by Jim as an exercise of his dominating power over me made me deeply grateful and beholden to him.

It was an amazing experience. Afterwards I reflected on all that I had learned. It was a night I would never forget.