Master called me upstairs not too long after I wrote the previous blog entry. He had that look in his eyes. Once upstairs, I dropped my robe. He picked up a belt. I turned away from him and gripped on my dresser, not needing any commands. He whipped me with it a dozen times or more, then told me to kneel. I knelt in front of him and sucked him while he beat my ass with the misery stick. It hurt so much it was hard to keep up my concentration, but he reminded me with both his words and his hand on the back of my head not to stop.
Then he fucked me, told me hot and humiliating fantasies, and made me come many times. When he was done, it was shower time.
I stepped into the shower. My side of the tub, away
from the water, was chilly as usual. He told me to kneel quickly. I
looked up into his face gratefully. It had been a few weeks at least
since I receieved this sort of "benediction". His stream hit me in the
chest, and various feelings surged through me. There was the
humiliation of being his piss post, the very strong smell making me
crinkle my nose. The gratitude of being shown this very degrading
treatment, being his, being used. An immense gratitude for that. The
warmth of the piss and some small gratitude for it heating me up slightly.
Then he aimed at my sensitive nipples and eroticism surged through me. I
must have demonstrated this feeling, as at that moment he commanded me
He pissed for a long time (really
saved up!) and then he sprayed me with the shower sprayer, including
right in the face so I spluttered. On my ass, the stinging welts from the misery stick were renewed by the hot water.
Then his command, "Wash me up, woman". And I did. I really love that, even thought I was soon cold again. It is my place, washing him, being cold if he wishes it, being a pissing post if he wishes it. It's a good place to be.