Piss, bondage and maximum humiliation for a gay slut.

He was tied up sitting at the foot of the cross on the fitness trail at the fetishist lodge. With his hands handcuffed behind his back, every time he tried to move, he could feel the wood pressing against his spine. The Master had put an open-mouth gag on him before taping his head to the beam, telling him that even flies could come and drink from his tongue after cocks had come deep in his throat.

Although fully clothed, he already felt terribly humiliated, even though nothing else but this particular bondage had happened to him yet. Paul was beginning to think that telling Master TSM he wanted maximum humiliation might not have been such a good idea, but it was too late to ask himself such questions. What he found difficult to understand was why he had not been stripped naked to be exposed like a slave, like the slut he had always fantasised about becoming.

Although the Master had put a cap on him to protect him from the sun, he was beginning to suffer from the heat and thirst. Paul had no idea how long he had been in this uncomfortable position. When you are restrained and defenceless, the minutes tick by slowly and seem to turn into hours. Unable to resist his rebellious bladder any longer, the slut ended up pissing himself, flooding his trousers.
Paradoxically, this degrading moment had given him pleasure. While relieving himself was pleasant, what Paul had enjoyed was being forced to wet himself while tied up, as well as the humiliation he was about to experience. Once freed, he would have to cross the property and pass in front of the terrace of the huge building to get changed.

‘You must be getting thirsty!’

The Master's voice coming from behind made him jump with fear. Out of shame, he closed his eyes to his degradation as a piss-soaked wretch. A pair of slaps pulled him out of his stupor. There he was, standing in front of him, unzipping his trousers. Seeing him take out his cock and move closer to him, Paul quickly understood why the Master had mentioned ‘thirst’. When he saw the stream of urine, he reflexively closed his eyes. His head and especially his mouth, held open by the ‘open mouth gag’, were copiously sprayed.

‘Enjoy it, you filthy slut, because you're going to stay tied up for a few more hours!’
The urine spurted abundantly, splashing his hair and face. Sometimes the stream gurgled in the back of his throat, which the ‘open-mouth gag’ did not allow him to protect. In the absence of a nice cold beer, he was able to quench his thirst a little with the warm, salty urine. When the fountain dried up, the Master brought his cock closer, demanding that he lick the drop diligently if he didn't want to get his balls trampled on. Needless to say, Paul did his best despite the discomfort caused by the ‘open-mouth gag’. He would have gladly sucked that cock as he should have, but in vain. He could only do as he was asked since his head was tied to the post and he couldn't move.

Master TSM left as he had come, without a second thought, without wondering if he was hot or cold. Abandoned, soaked from head to bum and halfway down his thighs, Paul found himself alone with his slut fantasies partially fulfilled. His thoughts at that moment about what he had just experienced made him hard in his chastity cage. He would have liked the Master to remove the gag and fuck his mouth as a conclusion. Cut off from his erotic dreams, Paul suddenly understood why Master TSM had told him about the flies that might come and drink from his tongue.

Those damn flies, attracted by urine, began to land on his face and tickle him. With his hands handcuffed behind his back and his head taped to the beam of the Jesus cross on the fitness trail, barely able to move, he couldn't chase them away. Except for blowing when they landed on his lips to drink, he could only endure them. One of them seemed to have taken up residence in the hollow of his neck and was tickling him horribly.

Suddenly, a stranger arrived on the fitness trail and walked past him with a pair of secateurs in his hand. The fact that he was ignored like the sports equipment reassured him a little, because in BDSM, when someone approaches a submissive who is completely tied up and defenceless with secateurs, it is enough to frighten you and make you think the worst. Luckily, the gardener had only come to prune a few stray branches from a tree near him. He left as he had come, without a glance, without any consideration for the soaked submissive.

Abandoned to the flies and his degradation, Paul could only wait for the Master's goodwill. The humiliation went up a notch when he saw Malicia, TSM's submissive, arrive. For a gay slut, being seen tied up like this, soaked in piss and covered in flies, was experienced as total degradation. The worst was yet to come.

Malicia began by taking photos of the slut in his predicament. She then took a pair of scissors out of her pocket to cut the tape binding him to the beam and relayed the Master's orders to him.

• At the end of the fitness trail, there is a muddy puddle. Inside the puddle is a small waterproof box containing the keys to the handcuffs. The Master wants you to go and get them and free yourself before joining us on the green terrace. Just a word of advice, when you find the box, don't open it in the mud puddle. If you drop the keys in the mud, you'll spend the night looking for them!

Once freed from the tape, getting up without using his hands was not easy for the wimp. Exposing his piss-soaked trousers to a woman was terribly humiliating, even if she was a submissive woman. Paul felt like he had hit rock bottom when she continued to take photos, but the worst was yet to come.

She continued to take photos as he wallowed miserably in the cold mud puddle. Groping with his hands behind his back, searching for the box of his pseudo-freedom, he rummaged through what felt like sludge or viscous mud. When he finally found it, he climbed out of the cursed puddle to open the box containing the keys.

With his hands full of mud, he couldn't find the keyhole on the handcuffs. Desperate and still gagged, he tried to ask Malicia for help, who continued to immortalise his downfall. ‘Just come back like that if you can't do it, we're not going to spend hours waiting for you,’ was the response to his desperate plea.
So, with his hands handcuffed behind his back, wearing an ‘open-mouth gag’ and completely covered in mud, he made his way to the green terrace. When he arrived, Master TSM was drinking a pastis with the gardener.

As the reader might expect, he was not invited to sit on the chairs under the walnut tree or to have an aperitif!

The Very Stern Master became a Very Friendly Master. He put down his glass of pastis to take the hose and clean up the slut a little, washing his mouth with the hose before removing the gag.

"Since you weren't able to remove the handcuffs, you'll have an aperitif with us my way. Go sit on the floor near the coffee table, I'm going to become a Very Nice Guy and serve you your aperitif.

Master TSM left for a moment to go to the secret room of the fetish lodge to grab a baby bottle and then a cold beer from the refrigerator. Back on the green terrace, he opened the bottle and pissed a little into it under the amused eyes of Malicia and the gardener, who were used to the Master's crazy antics. He finished emptying his bladder on the slut in front of Malicia and the gardener and filled the bottle with cold beer. The bottle was then laid on the table with the teat sticking out over the edge.
"If you had freed yourself, you could have drunk the beer from a bowl like a dog. Since you made me work, I filled your bottle with piss, which you will drink like a little calf still suckling its mother. When you've finished, I'll take off your handcuffs and you can go and wash in the solar shower. Hurry up and drink your bottle because pastis is a bit like beer, it makes me want to piss and I can make you a second bottle.

The slut hurried to drink the bottle, sucking desperately despite its dubious contents and the presence of amused observers. Paul had told Master TSM that he wanted to be humiliated, and his wish had just been granted.

End
TSM

Author's note:

• The fetishist cottage exists and is located in Spain.
• If Paul rented the fetish cottage, the domination and beer were --> free.
• Malicia + the gardener (armoured) and Master TSM really exist.
• The photos will never be published at the slut's request.
• Paul is a pseudonym, not the name of the gay slut.