At least it is when your Owner is a man like W, who enjoys taking advantage of all the opportunities his house presents…
W lives in a 100-year-old house that he is renovating, room-by-room. He does all the work himself, so it is a slow process, but one that he enjoys immensely. Especially when he finds opportunities to play dirty humiliation games with me. This past Thursday was one such day.
We had worked all afternoon in the yard. I was wearing a ratty old t-shirt of his and running shorts, and was hot, sweaty and dirty by the end. As we finished up and went into the basement to put our tools away, he grabbed me by the hand.
“C’mon,” he said purposefully.
I know that tone of voice, and I cringed just a bit, thinking I was in for a basement scene, and it wasn’t quite warm enough for me down there yet. Instead he led me up the basement steps. Maybe he’s going to give me a bath, I thought. How sweet.
But he bypassed the bathroom and kept going. As he rounded the corner to start up the stairs to the second story, I realized that yes, he was going to take me to the bathroom – the one that he had recently gutted to start renovating. He had teased me just the previous week about the mess he had made: 6 inches or more of plaster on the floor. But then he had lamented that it was all gone; he had taken it to the dump before he could do nasty things to me in it. He’s done it before, so I knew he was serious about being sad that he hadn’t gotten to do it.
I, of course, was only too happy.
But I guess he couldn’t let the opportunity entirely pass him by. There may not have been six inches of plaster on the floor, but it was a dirty little room. And this time, there was an added bonus game, one that I wasn’t expecting.
First he tied my wrists and ankles.
But more importantly, as I was to discover: how gross! I HATE dirty feet!
There was a reason he put the ballgag in my mouth: he didn’t want to listen to me swearing at him while he gave me a “shower”!
But he wasn’t done with me yet.
“Have you masturbated yet today?” he asked, looking down at my filthy, dirt-smudged face.
I nodded emphatically, knowing he already knew the answer – he’d made me do it that morning, using his cock as a masturbation toy against my clit.
“What? I can’t understand you,” he said. “Guess you’ll have to do it now, just in case.”
I made (what I hoped were) pitiful sounds of protest. Not on the floor, in the dirt, reeking of piss! He just grabbed my wrists and retied them so that my hand was near my crotch. Then stood back and nudged me with his toe.
“Do it,” he said.
I groaned but obeyed, as he stood over me, watching.
I stopped quickly though. My skin was gritty and dry with plaster dust; masturbating was painful. “It’s not wet enough,” I said through the gag.
“Oh, you want wet?” he said, grinning evilly at me. “I’ll give you wet.”
“No–” I tried to say, but it was already too late.
Down went his zipper and out came his cock again. I closed my eyes as his urine landed on my cunt. I don’t know if he has ever pissed on me as I masturbated before, but a shock went through me: of pleasure. His piss was warm and made my fingers slide over my clit, which was tender from masturbating and grinding the hood bar so much in the past days. And there was something else, something hard to identify, exactly. I don’t like the smell of urine – in fact that is probably the main reason I loathe being pissed on so much – but (and this is weird, I know) I smelled it, and I smelled him, and my body just reacted. Instinctively. Like a baby responds to the smell of its mother’s milk, I suppose. It was his piss, fluid from his body that was washing down between my legs, making my skin slick and my fingers slide. I moaned, and even though I was disgusted with myself, I felt myself rising to an orgasm as I ground my hand into my now-wet cunt.
A quick round-up of my “Masturbation Month Challenge” so far:
Day 1: I learn that I can use Baldy (my Hitachi) on my clit in spite of the hood bar. Oh joy!
Day 2: Actual conversation between W and I:
Me: Is it masturbation if your cock is inside of me?
Him: It is if I don’t move.
Day 3: Even if I am making myself come, it’s not masturbation if he is fucking me while I do it. Though later, as I do masturbate, thinking about him growling “Masturbate, bitch,” as he fucked me is definitely a trigger.
Day 4: We’re at a kink party. We’re in one of the gathering rooms, a hearth room with couches and a bar. I am on the couch, in between W and Ad. People are talking, laughing and drinking all around us. W leans over and whispers in my ear. “Have you masturbated today?” I shake my head. “Then do it. Now.” “Here?” I squeak. “Yes.” And I do. Right there on the couch, while people keep talking and drinking all around. I am very, very quiet.
Day 5: For no reason other than I want to, I challenge myself to masturbate thinking only of spanking – no sex, not even any nudity. It works.
Day 7: I decide to masturbate and let my mind wander where it will. It wanders into “alien” territory. Aliens with long tentacles that they insert…everywhere. This also works.
Day 8: I fall asleep before I remember to masturbate. W will make me make it up in the morning though.
Day 9: I use W’s cock to stroke my clit to an orgasm through my panties. Then W makes me fuck myself on the floor of the bathroom he is renovating: dirt, plaster, open lathing, piss. I come, and he says I get bonus points.
Day 10: Ad assists by trying out his new cupping set (a pump set rather than the fire cups) on my clit and then my nips. Leaves the nips on while I masturbate. I fantasize that he’s using the clit one on me, sucking the air out and releasing it over and over.
Day 11: A little anal fisting fantasy to go with my morning masturbation? Why yes, please, and thank you.
So how do you like to masturbate?