A lunchtime encounter

There isn’t much time. She slips out of her clothes, placing them on the fold-up hangar from her bag. The mask was tight and difficult to put on, particularly as she was trying not to make too much noise. The shower room was directly off the landing and while there was a small outer room it wasn’t enough to hide every sound. If anyone asked she could just say it was her make-up bag.

Black latex covered her head and neck, leaving only her face exposed.

She checked herself in the mirror, making sure her hair was hidden and her make-up perfect to bring out her eyes. He liked looking in to her eyes and she wanted to please him when he did.

Her lips needed to be redder. Quickly she applied the bright red lip gloss he’d bought her. It clashed heavily with the muted tones she usually used, but this was for him.

Quietly she settled in to her position by the door, kneeling with her head bowed, her hands palm up on her thighs. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t there to see it, only that she did it.

A gentle tap on the door. Three then two in quick succession then three again. She reached out and unlocked the door, letting him slip inside.

The door is closed and locked.

When he looks at her and smiles her heart melts. She belongs to him so completely that she can barely stand to be apart. But they have to be.

He steps past her and removes his suit. She can’t watch, required instead to look at the door in the same kneeling position. All she can do is listened and imagine him undressing. It makes her wet, but she knows better than to touch herself without permission.

His hand cups her chin and lifts her head to look at him. He smiles and she smiles back.

“Ready?” He asks her.

“Yes, Master,” she replies.

He directs her to the shower cubicle and she kneels inside. She tingles with excitement and anticipation as she settles down, her hands behind her back and her head raised high. She opens her mouth wide.

Now the red lipstick makes sense. He stands close to her, taking his cock in his hand and pointing it at her. She looks into his eyes and she into his. Her heart pounds.

Then it comes. A steady stream of warm liquid that splashes onto her face at first, then corrects and finds her open mouth. She tastes him, a nectar so sweet and perfect that she feels pride she had been chosen to receive it.

And yet there is shame too. Shame that she has been reduced to being a toilet for him. Shame that her mouth is full of piss and what she can’t swallow is cascading down her chin and onto her naked body. Shame that she wants to be used in such a disgusting and degrading way.

His smile makes it worse. His half-smile that mocks her. That reminds her she is his and he will do as he wishes.

Her jaw wavers and more of his urine falls onto her. More splashes onto her face and she has to shut her eyes.

The movement is swift and uncompromising. She gags as he thrusts his cock into her mouth and down her throat, catching her between a gag reflex and an overpowering feeling of drowning. He holds her to him, stopping her from backing away.

It lasts a few seconds and leaves her choking and gasping. Sticky white phlegm joins with the yellowish urine covering her jaw.

But he’s not finished. He stands over her with his cock resting on her upturned face. Skilfully he moves his hips so it slides along the side of her nose until the tip presses on her still red lips.

She takes him. All of him. Swallowing him until her nose is pressed against his body and his balls rest on her chin. She holds him there, fighting her own gag reflex and struggling for air.

He won’t let her go.

His hands hold her head firmly, keeping her in place.

“Cum,” he says.

Her fingers move quickly to her pussy, massaging her swollen clit and mixing her excitement with his piss. Her orgasm is not far away.

How long can she hold out? Her body is gasping for breath and caught in a battle between its desire for air and her desire to please him. His cock is so big, swollen and hard inside her throat so that it chokes her more. Her eyes bulge, her face burns.

“Cum now,” he tells her.

She does. Her stomach convulses as wave after wave of orgasm rips through her. Everything  floods through her, from the desire to be owned to the shame of being pissed on to the trust she has in him. It leaves her drained and exhausted.

His cock leaves her and she collapses forwards, fluid flooding out of her mouth and into the base of the cubicle. She gulps in air.


Her shaking hands reach down and scoops up some of the mess. She lifts it up, looking at it, then at him. He nods. She presses it against her face, smearing it round. As her hands fall by her side she knows her humiliation is complete.

“Good,” he tells her. “Now finish off.”

She bends down and starts slurping the mess, swallowing it with a sickening resignation. Without the anticipation of her pleasure to come it’s a degrading and disgusting act, but one she does to please him.

He dresses and when he is done he summons her. She kneels at his feet.

“Clean your face and dry yourself off,” he whispers. “We have a sales meeting in twenty minutes and after that you can go home and wait for me.

She nods dutifully.

He says nothing but opens the door and slips out. She closes and locks it, then lifts herself onto her feet. She’ll clean her face and reapply her make-up and dry herself off, just as he commands. Then she’ll spend the afternoon knowing that beneath the roll neck jumper and smart black trousers is a body caked in piss and phlegm.

She smiles to herself as she looks in the mirror. For a couple of hours she’ll be his boss again and she’ll hold him to account. And she’ll gladly pay the price when they get home and he continues to use her.

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About Razz

I'm a creative dominant type with a love of BDSM and fetishism. This blog is an outlet, so don't take anything you see or read too seriously.