Descent Ch. 04

The Punishment

Jen swayed minutely back and forth. This was new. The saliva, which she had not been able to stop escaping her mouth due to the ball gag, was about to drip from the end of her chin.

'What if it hits her?' She thought as she flexed her fingers, trying to ease the pressure. Her arms were pulled behind her back; rope bound them along their length resulting in her shoulders being pulled back, her breasts therefore pushed forward.

Her legs were also tied up; her feet pulled back and up behind her where they were attached to the main rope that descended from the ceiling. It was the ceiling rope that was attached to the harness strapped about her waist. She was currently hanging from this. Horizontal, she floated above the office furniture, winched on high, held up by the waist harness.

Two more ropes came off the harness, up between her dangling breasts, over her shoulders and back again to join her feet at the main ceiling rope. A final cord came off the bottom of the harness and was pulled tightly between her legs, applying pressure across her clit and pussy, and holding in place a plug that had been inserted into her arse.

She was a good ten feet up. When she had arrived in the office and her Mistress had started to strap her up, it was like many a scene they had played out before in the weeks and months in which her Mistress had progressively trained her, used her. As so often before, her Mistress had applied the riding crop to enforce better posture or direct her into the desired position.

Jen remembered how her body had flinched from the strikes and would therefore invite another, rapidly applied to the opposite side, to straighten the posture again. It had become to Jen like a conductor manipulating her body, to the music of sliced air, slapped skin and gasping breaths. And she couldn't deny the thrill it gave her, being the instrument of this music.

But then the harness had been attached and suddenly she was being winched into the air. At first she would have laughed if the ball gag had let her. Swinging helpless in the air in her Mistress' office had seemed like fun. 'What a toy to have!' she had thought. But that had been three hours ago.

What had slowly dawned on Jen was that her Mistress was going to happily leave her dangling there while she got on with the rest of her day. She was winched high enough not be noticed, unless someone actually looked up at the ceiling. Surely her Mistress wouldn't risk this?!

But here she was now, swaying very slightly above her Mistress' third visitor that morning. The secretary was noting down instructions from Jen's Mistress in a notebook, sat in the chair opposite the desk. Jen could smell her perfume. She could hear the pen scratching on the notepad. The resigned part of her mind got a bizarre thrill from being able to look down the girls' top at the plump cleavage disappearing into a clean white bra.

But the largest part of her mind was preoccupied with the saliva building on the bottom of her chin. It was going to drop, there was nothing Jen could do about that now; the fear was whether the secretary would notice.

Perhaps it was all a set up. Perhaps all the people visiting today were in league with her Mistress. Previous encounters had shown Jen that others knew of her submissiveness. Others seemed to be aware that she belonged to her Mistress. Surely her Mistress wouldn't risk being found out herself - or did she perhaps enjoy the risk? Was it the adrenalin that provided the thrill? Was that what thrilled Jen, or was it the sense of helplessness?

Jen's stomach tensed as the secretary finished writing. What would she do if discovered? How should she act? She imagined pleading with the secretary not to tell anyone, not to reveal her shamefulness. 'Please,' she will beg, 'I'll do anything. Anything you want...' mmm, how often would the secretary call in the favour of her silence? How often might Jen find herself between those legs, so primly held together at the moment with the note pad on top? How nice the secretary's mouth would look, in an oval gasp as Jen's tongue worked its magic on her sweet scented pussy...

The saliva dropped, Jen watched as it seemed to tumble in slow-motion through the air forming a sphere in its freefall towards the notebook. Jen mentally slapped herself, how could she be allowing herself erotic thoughts at a time like this. Her stomach was in her throat, her eyes fixed on the descending slobber.

As the saliva fell the secretary began to close her notebook; the cover flipped over as the saliva fell towards it, fell past it. It had just missed the notebook and headed towards the woman's shoe. It landed with a soft pat. Jen's gaze switched instantly from the impact site to the secretary's face. Had she noticed? The secretary stood up to leave. Jen's eyes followed her as she turned and made her way to the door, still unaware of the naked female form suspended above her.

Jen's heart was thundering in her ears, this was indeed a torture. Once the door was closed again Jen looked down at her Mistress and realised that the woman had been watching her. She appeared to be chuckling. Jen gave out a little whine, seeking sympathy. Hoping to sound like a pet that has learnt its lesson. Her Mistress toyed with what looked like a remote control on her desk. Jen hoped that it operated the winch.

Her Mistress got up and pulled out the riding crop, giving Jen a few strokes around her body. Jen squirmed and swayed, squeaking through the gag.

"Oh I do like my new trophy" she said, making Jen swing again.

She then turned back to her desk picked up the remote control and pressed the button. Jen's body jerked as she felt sensations inside her arse, vibrating against the walls of her womb.

'Oh my God,' she thought as she adjusted to the vibrating plug in her arse, 'this is going to be a long day'

The Humiliation

Jen reflected on how her life was full of adventure now. There was no control, but there was plenty of excitement. For months she had been toyed with, played with, abused and cared for by her Mistress. Regardless of the physical or mental strain from the things she was asked to do, she was continually impressed by her Mistress' inventiveness. She felt it was an indication of caring, and this was important to her.

She had become completely wrapped up in her Mistress. She had been seduced and then controlled, the mind games, the comparisons, the training, had all been designed to reinforce these feelings, and they had worked. She lived for her Mistress; she loved her without question. She had practically forgotten her old life and was engulfed in the new. Always different, always exciting, always new - it ran across her mind like a caption on a billboard, advertising an exclusive lifestyle.

Today was new too. She had butterflies in her stomach because she thought she knew what was coming. For the first time since accepting her new life she had been instructed to wear knickers. She had also been ordered not to go to the toilet, and to make sure she drank plenty of fluids. It didn't take a genius to figure out something was planned. But she didn't know what, and therefore her mind was free to wander in erotic directions. Her own mind became the most effective tool to deliver the most erotic ideas direct to her pussy.

It was hard now though. The erotic tingling had turned steadily to concentrated muscle clenching and finally now to desperate straining as the painful pressure built. She had sent several email requests asking for permission to relieve herself but no reply had been received. Then an envelope had arrived.

In it was a wireless earpiece and a mobile phone. She attached the earpiece and activated the phone. Immediately it rang and she answered.

"Make your way to the foyer", her Mistress' voice instructed.

Jen was worried that just getting up and walking would be too difficult for her. She whimpered slightly at the pressure on her bladder as she stood up. She felt sure the liquid inside her would come bursting out, but she managed to hold it. She made her way to the lift, not really seeing the people around her, just focusing now, 'hold it, hold it, hold it'.

She looked up with a forced smile as a man pushed the button for the ground floor, she pretended not to notice him gaze at her cleavage. On the journey down she suspected he was assessing her arse and legs. The bell tinged and the doors opened. People left around her and then she emerged into the office foyer. The granite floor tiles reflected the bodies of the people walking to and fro across the entrance lobby. There were thinly scattered pillars that did little to disrupt the bright light coming in through the windows on either side of the large rotating doors.

"I bet you could do with a pee?" her Mistress teased her from the earpiece.

'Oh no. Surely not.' Jen thought as she gently stepped into the echoing hall. People were coming in and out of the doors, approaching the reception desk, waiting at the lifts or standing in small groups chatting.

"Do you want to pee slut?"

She pressed the earpiece closer to her head, hunched her body, trying to be unnoticed as she walked further into the spacious hall.

"Yes Mistress" she whispered into the earpiece.

Jen knew what was going to happen. She couldn't believe it, but she knew. She kept walking, also knowing that she could not escape and it would happen only when she was in the middle of the room. Perhaps it wasn't what she thought; perhaps her Mistress had something else in mind. She was pacing slowly, as though walking out before a firing squad. A dread sense of the inevitable surrounded her. It dampened the voices in the hall, but did not hide the presence of all the other people. It only made her footsteps sound louder, echoing from the polished surface.

"Pee now." The instruction came.

Jen couldn't do it. She was staring at the floor, trying to block everyone else out. How could she do this? Her old learnt responses of embarrassment and reservation were fighting her more recently learned response of obedience.

"PEE NOW SLUT!" Her Mistress yelled.

It made her jump and that helped things begin. She fought with tears as the fluid began to flow elsewhere. She felt warmth rather than wetness. It engulfed her crotch. But she knew that her panties were becoming soaked and that the fluid was pushing through them. No one else knew yet but she could sense the drops forming on the underside of her knickers, seeking to break loose but instead flowing to the side, finding her leg. She could feel it there on her leg, warm but detectable, flowing down her smooth thigh.

Her bladder had been allowed its release now and kicked in, deciding that it had been denied for too long. The pressure from within increased. Before the stream flowing down her leg reached her shoe the drips clinging to the underside of her crotch broke loose. The world rushed in around her again as the stream fell between her legs and splashed onto the floor. She felt that the noise splashing on the granite floor echoed around the foyer with the power of Niagara.

There was no stopping it now, so she stood there cringing at herself, feeling helpless and useless as the warm liquid cascaded between her legs, flowed down her thighs and splashed across her feet. Her mind regressed; she could have been wearing a school uniform. Her peripheral vision sensed people starting to notice. People turning to look, pointing out what was happening to others. Some in disgust, some with laughter, most with shock followed by pity.

She was tiny. Nothing to anyone, only for her Mistress. She saw the security guard from the reception desk approaching her.

"Miss, umm, Miss," he said, not sure what to do as he approached, reaching out a hand but equally trying to avoid the splashing urine spurting around her feet. She glanced up at him and then quickly looked away again, burning with embarrassment. She had so much to release.

"Miss, there, umm, there are toilets over here. If, ah, if you could just hold it." He tugged her arm in the right direction. She began to move in the direction he indicated, the pee still streaming down her legs. People rapidly moved out of their way as the guard directed her towards the doors that led to the toilets. At all times he kept his arm stretched out to avoid the fallout.

"If you could just hold on a bit." He reiterated.

But she knew she mustn't. She knew her Mistress wanted to teach her humility. To teach her that her pride came second to her Mistress' wishes. What others thought of her was nothing compared to what her Mistress must think of her. And so the urine continued to flow, leaving a trail across the foyer floor. She would show that the lesson had been learnt.

It wasn't until they reached the door for the ladies that the flow began to ease. The release of pressure on Jen's bladder was wonderful. It almost made her feel grateful for the whole experience, to have had release.

The guard opened the door for her and more or less pushed her inside. The door swung shut and she stood dripping in the toilet. Alone, now that it was over. She looked up and jumped. She was not alone. Stood before her was her Mistress, mobile phone in hand, grinning evilly.

The relief of being out of the public gaze, the relief of physical release, the shock of being confronted by her Mistress, and the way the woman looked so fucking stunning stood before her all conspired to turn her burning humiliation to a smouldering sexual desire.

"On your knees before me slut"

Jen sank to her knees and lowered her eyes. Her Mistress was wearing a long flowing black skirt. One leg emerged from a slit that rose high up her thigh. She wore high-heeled leather boots, with thin delicate heels and long laces running up the front. Her top appeared to be a bodice, sucking her waist in and supporting her rounded breasts.

She pushed open the door of a cubicle. It creaked ominously like the entrance to some ancient crypt.

"In" she ordered.

Jen crawled into the cubicle and was then instructed to sit on the toilet and remove her knickers. She sat there with the sopping wet material sagging limply in her hand as her Mistress entered the cubicle too and shut the door behind her.

"Look at the filthy mess you've made," commented her Mistress as she raised the knickers between the tips of thumb and finger in disgust.

Jen's eyes followed the knickers as they were raised up, dripping occasionally. Her Mistress' other hand cupped Jen's chin and tipped her head back. The knickers were held above her, the odd drop of urine now splashing onto her face. The filthiness of what was being done to her turned Jen on. Her obedience released her from the guilt of what was happening, she was able to wallow in the degradation, let it engulf her like stepping into a warm bog - it was dirty, but it felt nice.

The fingers were squeezed into her cheeks forcing her jaws apart and her Mistress lowered the knickers to her mouth. She felt them being pushed passed her lips, the liquid squeezed out of them running into her throat. Still warm she tasted her own piss for the first time. Her mind was won over now. She embraced the impurity, and as her mind lapped up the intensity of her actions her body lapped up its previous discharge.

Her Mistress now pressed the knickers into her mouth, releasing the fluid from them and shutting Jen's lips around them.

"That's it you sleazy bitch, suck them clean. You are such a disgusting little girl!"

Jen sucked and swallowed. The taste was not as unpleasant as she had imagined, or was that just her arousal, which seemed to make any act, no matter how heinous, become pleasurable.

The knickers were removed from her mouth and flung on the floor. Her Mistress pulled apart her skirt at the slit revealing the beautiful groomed pussy that she had come to love and worship.

With the aid of the high-heeled boots the woman was able to straddle Jen, pushing her back to the cistern on the toilet. The position allowed her Mistress to position her pussy perfectly over Jen's mouth. Jen instantly began to kiss and lick her Mistress' pussy. She focussed completely on the task. Literally loving the soft folds of skin with all her heart. Treating the nectar that arrived as something precious, caressing and comforting with her tongue.

Jen was aware that the wetness around her pussy was no longer just urine. A familiar sense of yearning boiled up within her and channelled itself into her efforts on her Mistress' clit. She wanted so much to pleasure that woman, to achieve the convulsions, to hear the moans and know that for a moment, she had caused her Mistress to loose control. The very thought caused moans to escape her own lips.

It was then that she felt the splash on her cheek. She instinctively pulled back although she knew what was happening. As she pulled away her view could take in the pussy before her, the hips pushed forward and the stream of piss now flowing freely over her neck soaking down into her top.

Her Mistress laughed and moved her hips, using her hands to direct the flow as best as possible, rising it up to aim for Jen's face. Jen obediently sat there, receiving the spray, letting it bounce over her, flow around her. Shocked, but electrified. It was dirty, but its warmth was strangely comforting. It was so taboo, but it was a gift from her Mistress, from her Mistress' most special place.

"You're my toilet slut," her Mistress laughed

As the stream reduced, then eased, then spurted and then ceased, her Mistress pressed forward and Jen's lips found her Mistress' pussy again. She lapped at it, devouring it and cleaning it at the same time. Her hot tongue probed and explored, her desperate breath heaving around her Mistress' hips. She couldn't believe the sense of wanting inside her. It was such a powerful force. There was nothing she wouldn't do right now, if instructed. Then her Mistress was cuming in her mouth.

Jen felt the weight push down on her as her Mistress' legs gave way a little. She revelled in the sensation of her Mistress' warm thighs surrounding her face as she heard the grunts and felt the shudders. Finally her Mistress pulled away again and regained her breath. She looked down at Jen. Her cloths were soaking and clinging to her. Her breasts perfectly formed against the wrinkled material. She was going to have to spend some time standing under the hand dryer before she could leave here.

"Did my toilet slut enjoy that?"

"Yes Mistress. You're toilet slut really enjoyed that. You're toilet slut is very horny."

Her Mistress smirked.

"You may cum."

Jen's hands moved quickly lifting her skirt. Her Mistress watched as she rubbed her fingers across the wet skin. She didn't go straight for her clit, she knew how horny she was, knew how little it would take. She stroked her hand up and down her thigh; the urine was already drying in streaks. Her other hand cupped and caressed her breast. She played with the nipple, 'mmmm' her mind was swimming in the sensations.

She closed her eyes and allowed her finger to slide up between her slit. She sensed her Mistress' gaze and continued to rub her pussy. Finally moving up towards the deliciously hidden button. It only took a few strokes of the fleshy hood around her clit and the contractions were on her. The groans of pleasure echoed out of the cubicle and around the toilet.

She was exhausted, emotionally and physically; and her Mistress left her there, wet, spent, sagging on the toilet.