Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen
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On the way back from the clinic, Allison again lay down, with her head in Ciaran’s lap, so that people wouldn’t see her nudity as they drove.
“Are you going to cocktease me again, you little slut?” asked Ciaran, looking down at her pretty little face, his cock already hardening and pressing against her cheek through his pants.
“No,” Allison protested.
“So help me, if you make me make a mess in my pants again, I’ll tell everyone you’re a piss slut and a rapist,” said Ciaran.
“Please,” said Allison. “I can’t help it. If I’m in your lap…”
“You don’t have to be in my lap,” said Ciaran. “You could sit up straight.”
She didn’t want to do that. Her tits would be visible to every other car.
She made a distressed noise.
“Well, it’s on you,” he said. “But I’m serious. If I make a mess, it’s your fault.”
She could feel his dick against her face, through his pants. She could feel it flexing against her cheek. She knew what had happened on the way here.
She knew what she had to do. She didn’t want to do it, but she understood that all of her actions so far had been leading to it.
She unzipped his pants, and took his cock out of his underwear. Then she took it into her mouth.
It felt amazing for Ciaran to finally be in the bitch’s mouth, after all of this – and that she had chosen of her own free will to suck his cock.
“God, you’re such a disgusting slut,” he spat – and as he said this, he took one hand off the wheel to grab her hair and force her further down on his dick, so she wouldn’t pull away at the insult.
He humped her face as he drove. He pulled off the highway and onto quiet back streets, where he drove at a very slow speed so he wouldn’t have an accident while enjoying Allison’s violation. She made little distressed sounds as she sucked on him, and at one time she seemed to reconsider her actions and try to pull away – but he told her they were currently in a school zone, and she immediately jerked back down, taking his cock in her mouth up to the balls, desperate not to be seen.
Eventually, he felt himself cumming – and Allison, like the secret slut he knew she was, swallowed his cum automatically and instinctively. He held her in place after he was done, though – her mouth just felt so nice on his cock.
He thought about pissing into her mouth too, while she was trapped here – but he decided it was too much too soon. He wanted it to be her idea. He wanted her to ask for it.
When they got back to the office, he gave her her clothes, and sent her to write a report on how she had raped him in his car by sucking his cock without his consent. He reminded her to start the document with the words, “My name is Allison Tarrant and I am a piss slut,” which she could only delete when she was ready to send it.
About a half hour later he rang her on her phone to see how she was going. She forgot to answer the phone by telling him she was a piss slut, as she had agreed to do at her appointment, so he told her to punish herself by taking her new zapper – the one that was given to her for toileting – and shocking her left tit. He heard her squeal over the phone, and knew that she had done it.
He received her report a little later, which went in her growing file of blackmail and degradation material. And a little after that he received a video on his phone.
It was a close-up of Allison’s cunt, sitting on a toilet. Her pussy was pulsing and shivering, and she was clearly trying to piss. She was holding her new zapper against her clit. As soon as the first trickle of golden liquid emerged from her urethra, she pulled the trigger, and her hips bucked wildly, and he heard a muffled curse.
She tried again, and it was obviously harder for her to piss now, in fearful anticipation of her next shock. But after a while, she did manage to urinate – and once again she shocked herself.
He could hear her crying softly now – and whispering to herself. He wasn’t even sure she knew she was speaking out loud.
“Dumb big-titted baby. Perverted little slut. You can’t do it.”
It took her nearly ten minutes to relax her bladder again – and this time her urine flowed true, without a shock.
The full video was 15 minutes in total.
He rang her.
“Hi, it’s Allison the piss slut here,” she said in a quiet, humiliated voice.
“That toilet break was a quarter of an hour, Allison,” he said. “Is that acceptable?”
“I couldn’t…” she said. “I mean, it’s hard…”
“Are you saying that you’re *bad at pissing*, Allison?” he asked her.
“No,” she said. “I just mean…”
“I want you to write a report on yourself for an excessive toilet break,” he told her. “You’ll need to explain why you were there so long. You can either say that you were electroshocking your clitoris to treat your pissing problem, or that you were masturbating. It’s your choice.”
He hung up.
Allison was a contractor. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation for her time, as long as she produced results.
And yet, before Ciaran went home for the day, he received a report in his inbox from Allison, explaining how she had wasted company time by masturbating for a quarter of an hour in the women’s toilets.
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While Ciaran and Allison had been at her appointment today, Ciaran had arranged for Dave to re-attend Allison’s house.
Dave had used his copy of Allison’s keys, and taken a wander through the premises. He topped up Allison’s orange juice with more of his piss, and her milk with more of his cum.
Then he had installed a range of hidden cameras throughout her apartment that broadcast to a site that all of Ciaran’s Allison-hating friends had access to.
In the process, he noted that Allison’s television had shorted out – the result of the electrical sabotage he had done on his last visit.
Thanks to Dave’s work, Ciaran was able to watch Allison when she arrived home that night. He saw her go to the fridge, take out the the milk carton, and take a big swig of semen-tainted milk. He then watched her undress until she was nude, and go to the toilet, and try to piss.
He got the video from her afterwards, but Dave’s new cameras gave him a very clear view of her anyway, her legs spread, her phone in one hand to film her pussy and the zap-stick in the other. It took her six minutes to be able to piss the first time, whereupon she immediately shocked herself and started crying. It was ten minutes before she could piss again – and that yielded another shock. It was a full twenty minutes after that before she could finally relax and empty her bladder.
All the time, she was whispering to herself, “Dumb big-titted baby. Perverted little slut.”
Afterwards she showered, and dressed in a nightgown, and made herself a dinner – a curry, that used a good amount of the “cream” in her fridge that was, again, mostly semen. She didn’t seem to notice anything strange about the taste, but then again, an increasing amount of her food had been flavoured with piss and cum for the last several days, so it *all* would have tasted strange.
She sat down to watch TV – but shortly after turning it on, there was a spark at the wall, and it went off again. A casualty of the electrics that Dave had sabotaged. She jumped, and squealed, and got up to investigate – but after poking around for a while, she could make the TV work.
Instead, she went to bed – and took her laptop with her. The cameras didn’t show what was on her screen as she lay in bed – but whatever it was, she soon began to masturbate to it, and kept masturbating until she fell asleep.
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On Saturday, she got up and went to use the toilet. It took her ten minutes of holding the zap-stick against her clit before she could relax enough to piss – and when she did, she immediately shocked herself, squealed, and began to cry.
She sat there another twenty minutes without pissing before getting up and dressing in a sundress.
She cooked a breakfast – and as she was cooking, the electric kettle shorted out, prompting another squeal.
She ate her breakfast, with a big glass of piss-flavoured orange juice, and then went back to the toilet. She sat there for eight minutes, began to piss, and shocked herself again. After that, her bladder clearly wouldn’t relax, and she got up, frustrated.
Twenty minutes later, her bladder aching, she was back on the toilet – but interestingly, this time she seemed reluctant to even sit, anticipating the shock that would be her reward for trying to piss on a toilet. She did sit, though – but she didn’t even get as far as shocking herself. She stood again after ten minutes.
Shortly after that, it happened. She was standing in the kitchen, and her bladder gave way. She began to piss uncontrollably into her panties.
He watched the look of humiliation on her face as she did this, and the thoughts that passed through her head. She was so embarrassed by wetting herself, and unable to stop. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to do this ever again. And she had been told one way to train herself out of it, even if it didn’t really make sense…
She lifted her skirt, reached into her panties, and began to rub her cunt as she pissed.
Watching Alison Tarrant, the bitch who had driven his friend to suicide, masturbating as she uncontrollably wet herself was one of the sweetest things Ciaran had ever watched. Viewing it on his computer at home, he was masturbating himself, and when he orgasmed, he kept the cum to feed to Alison on Monday.
By the time Alison was done she was standing in a puddle of piss in her kitchen. But she stayed there, still masturbating, until she orgasmed.
The duality of training was complete. Alison’s body had learned, at a fundamental level, that pissing on the toilet was agonisingly painful and hard, and that pissing anywhere else – and particularly wetting herself – felt good and sexy.
Ciaran phoned Allison, timing his phone call to only moments after her orgasm. She staggered across the kitchen to find her phone.
“Hi, it’s Alison the piss slut here,” she said, blushing, knowing the truth of those words.
“How are you going?” asked Ciaran.
She burst into tears.
“I wet myself,” she said. “I… I don’t know why. You’re right, I have a problem. I didn’t film it, I’m so sorry…”
“What did you do when you wet yourself?” asked Ciaran.
“I… rubbed my pussy…” said Alison.
“Good girl,” said Ciaran. “That’s very good. That will help you. But you need to use the toilet, Alison. Keep working to use the toilet. Do everything you can to avoid pissing anywhere else, okay?”
“Yes,” said Alison. “Yes, sir.”
Perverted little slut, she was thinking. You need a man.
“Are you crying, Alison?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s just… there’s something wrong with the electricity in my house. My TV and kettle broke… and…”
“Don’t worry, Alison,” said Ciaran. “I’ll arrange someone to come and fix the electrics, okay? You just stay home and he’ll be there this afternoon.”
Her gratitude was unfeigned. “Thank you,” she said, sniffling. “Thank you.”
“That’s okay, Alison,” said Ciaran. “It’s normal for a woman to need help with things. And Alison – have you cleaned up your mess yet? From pissing yourself?”
She flinched at those words. “No, sir,” she said.
“When you do – you know how to teach a dog to not piss in the house?” he asked.
She did, but she said, “No, sir.”
“You rub the bitch’s face in it, Alison,” said Ciaran. “I think that would be helpful, don’t you? If you rub your face in it, before you clean it up?”
She was silent.
“Make sure you do, Alison,” said Ciaran. “And send me a video.”
He hung up.
And waited.
And ten minutes later, he had it – a recording from a phone placed at ground level, of Alison on all fours, leaning down to press her pretty, bitchy face into a puddle of her own piss.
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