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I’ve been talking since the summer about the tallies and how, when I reached eight, Sir was going to make me drink a cup of my own piss. One ounce per tally.

Back in October when Sir came to visit, I was up to five tallies. Now, writing this, I am still up to five tallies. However, I’m significantly less worried about it, mostly because I’ve already drank Sir’s now. (It really kind of puts stuff in perspective?)

When he visited in October, he had me get down on my knees in the shower and drink it. He already sometimes pissed on me in the shower, but this was something I’d never done before. He’d had plenty of water beforehand, mercifully, but it wound up getting in my eyes and nose and making it hard for me to breathe. Because of that, I started laughing nervously, which may have ruined the mood a little bit.

But, yeah, drinking my own piss now? I don’t know, doesn’t seem like the biggest deal anymore.

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Halfway There, Part Thirteen

I had Lida squat down in the bathtub, and made her repeat “please,” “thank you,” and “I’m sorry” in different iterations until she was shaking from holding the position and having to urinate. I felt like I was on a high, dominating this girl while Flint and Macy stood behind me, watching. 

“What do you say?” I asked.

Lida stared up at me, humiliated and confused.

“I just let you piss here, what do you say?” I repeated.

She whined, “thank you for letting me piss in the bathtub and not in the kitchen.”

I turned around to face Flint, “she’s not very bright, is she?” I knew, of course, this wasn’t the case. I imagined she was just as bewildered as I was, though I was compensating for mine with my bravado.

On the way out of the bathroom, Flint seized up a fistful of my hair, pulling e up onto my tiptoes. “I feel like you’ve forgotten your place,” he said as he dragged me over to the couch, “let’s see what we can do about that.”

As usual, Old Ironsides didn’t bruise from the spanking he gave me, even though it hurt like crazy. During aftercare, he took me into Macy’s bedroom, where he proceeded to blow a raspberry into my stomach. “You asshole,” I exclaimed when he did.

“By the way,” he said, pulling back, “he gave you another tally. You’re up to four now.”

I bit my lip. That was it. I was halfway there.

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Halfway There, Part Twelve

My mind was moving a thousand miles a minute and I could barely process what was happening as I strode into the kitchen. There was a weird disconnect between what was going on in my head and how I was behaving. Outwardly, I was confident, quick, maybe a little cruel. Inside, I was nervous. My jaw was shaking.

“Now, where’s the bowl you’re supposed to piss in?” I asked, picking up a collander that was on the counter. “Sure hope this isn’t it, huh? That would be embarrassing." 

I knew that I couldn’t actually make her piss into the a bowl. For all the bravado, I was kind of petrified. The only time I’ve ever been this dominant was with Switch, and it was after I’d known him for a while. This was more performative, more new. I was scared at any second I’d fail at maintaining the facade and would totally drop out of character.

Meanwhile, Lida was whimpering and setting a bowl on the floor. I sucked in a deep breath and pointed to the bathroom door, "get in there, you’ll piss in the tub.”

“Okay,” she replied, getting to her feet.

“Okay?” I repeated. “Honestly, are you kidding me? I’m being nice to you and you’ve got the most piss-poor manners. What do you say to me?”

“I have to pee,” she stammered.

“You say ‘please,’ ‘thank you,’ and ‘I’m sorry.’ That’s all I want to hear from you,” I ordered.

She shifted from side to side. “Okay.”

I looked over to Flint, “is she fucking stupid or something? I told her what to say and she still doesn’t say it.” He chuckled. I motioned to the bathroom once more, “get in there, would you?”

Lida scrambled over to the bathroom. Flint shot me a smirk and I just shrugged, winking before following Lida inside.

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Piss Shy, Part Three

Disclaimer: The content of this story is a little bit harsher and a little more intense than most of the experiences I have written about on here. Please keep in mind that I had safe words – “yellow” for slow down or do less, “red” for stop. The things I did were done willingly and enthusiastically, even when I demonstrated reluctant or fearful behavior. I like to be scared and I like to feel psychologically exhausted, and this experience allowed me to tread some harsher waters. So, I hope you’ll stick along for the ride.

I hitched up my skirt and started rubbing my clit, I hadn’t worn panties that day, a fact that I was now grateful for as I considered the humiliating possibility of having to lower them around my knees. Despite the fact that I was petrified that someone might see, even if it was nighttime, and despite the fact that I was humiliated, or maybe because of it, I was soaking wet. 

The door swung open and Flint walked past me, gesturing for me to follow. “Very nice,” he said, and I tugged my skirt back down and shuffled after him. “Now clean that up, fingers in your mouth. It comes out of you, it goes back into you.” I nodded, shoving my fingers into my mouth. We got in the car, buckled up, and headed off to his partner’s house.

“So,” he asked while we waited at a stoplight. “what are the tallies for? What happens when you hit eight?”

For the thousandth time that hour, my cheeks burned. “Eight ounces in a cup. Each tally is an ounce. And at eight, I…” I sucked a deep breath in through my nose and glanced out the window, “I drink a cup of my own piss.”

It was something Sir had come up with. I would be lying if I didn’t say I wasn’t five thousand percent reticent about it, but I also would be lying if I said I wasn’t secretly, deep-in-the-stomach, vaguely intrigued by the idea. So, I agreed, totally reluctantly, and hoped that I’d never do anything horrible enough to get up to eight tallies.

But, now I was at two. One quarter of the way there. 

“That’s disgusting,” Flint said through a grin, chuckling and shaking his head. “I bet you want to make sure you don’t get any more tallies tonight, huh? You’d better be on your best behavior.”

I nodded, “yeah. I’d like it if you were able to tell him that I was a good girl tonight.”

“Well, that’s entirely up to you, isn’t it?” He patted my knee. “By the way, I like the way you trail along to keep up with me.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Sir says I’m supposed to heel.” This got another laugh out of him.

When we reached his partner’s place, I got out of my seat and noticed I’d dripped right onto the seat. Before Flint could see it, I wiped it up with my hand and licked it off of my palm. 

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Being a Brave Girl, Part Six

About a week before I visited Sir, I had a tinychat. In that chat, somehow, I agreed to let Sir carry out one of his fantasies that had previously teetered between a hard and a soft limit. But, I wanted to let him try it and so I said I was game.

After we fucked, he brought me over to the shower and asked me if I still wanted to. I agreed and, nervously, squatted down on the floor of his shower.

“I can’t look.” I felt myself blushing and gazed away from him as he (oh god I can barely even write it) aimed. “Don’t do it on my face, okay?”

(Oh sheesh I can’t do this.)

(You guys get what happened right? Right? So I don’t have to say it, right?)

I squeezed my eyes shut and he pissed on my chest. 

After he had finished, he told me how proud he was and what a good girl I was for letting him mark me like that. And I was proud of myself, too, but I stumbled up to my feet and asked him to just turn the shower on. 

The entire time, he held me close, helped shampoo my hair, kissed my forehead over and over while I washed my body. I know he seems tough and he even admits he can be a “cruel bastard” sometimes (his words!). But, he can really be the sweetest and knows when to be gentle with me and always seems to know what I need.

And how he was in the shower was exactly what I needed after I’d been brave.