I wanted to try out, what happens when I will let AI decide how to dare/play with/dominate a submissive slave girl. As I was given an high amount of edges and was horny all the time, searching for some arousing material I came up with the idea of let AI create a message exchange log between a Master and his slave.
The result gave me good support on working on my edges. So I wanted to chare it with you
I gave a lot of input and reviewed the result and made some changes. I mixed up autobiographical elements and fictional elements and this is, what came about.
The message exchange was beginning on April 7, 2026 running into future. The timestamps reflect Danish local time (CET/CEST) . The Master is Gerald, a retired engineer in California. The slave is Emmy, a 33-year-old teacher living alone in Aarhus.
Here is the complete message history, including the initial board contact, private negotiation, real-time command sessions, and detailed task reports.
Message Exchange Log
Handle: emmy_the_urinal & Master_Gerald_CA
07.04.26 20:15 (Public Board Post by emmy_the_urinal)
Subject: 33F Denmark - Piss toilet / pain pig / throat whore seeks strict creative sadist for online control.
This slut is a 33-year-old teacher with a small, slim body and tiny 75A tits. No ink, no metal. She lives alone. Her purpose is to entertain by suffering, being degraded, and being used as a piece of filth.
Likes: Clamps, deepthroat, piss (drinking/wetting), gags, plugs, humiliation, bondage, blindfold, outdoor exposure, toilets, spanking, nettles, pain, body writing, figging, creativity.
Limits: Pics/video, injury, blood, breath play, scat, ATM, involving others, permanent marks, messy (food), enemas, toothpaste/bengay.
Toys: Spreader bar, restraints, anal plug, suction dildo, clothespins, nipple clamps, binder clips (this slut removes the wire handles), ring/ball gag, blindfold, paddle, riding crop, cane, rope, rubber bands, ice, sharpies.
This slut needs a Master who understands that this piece of urinal equipment needs to be kept hydrated to provide a fresh, light-yellow stream. This slut is a pain pig and an outdoor whore. She edges and drips constantly. She does not cum without permission.
07.04.26 22:03 (Private Message from Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
You sound like a useful piece of plumbing. A Danish toilet slut who understands she is furniture. I am Gerald. I'm 68. I live in California. I have been breaking sluts like you for longer than you've been alive.
I am strict. I will make those small tits ache for days. I will make you mop floors with your piss-soaked hair. I am creative and I like to see how far a pain pig can go before she squeals. I also read your post carefully: you will hydrate. I have no interest in a urinal that produces thick, concentrated waste. You will drink water constantly. Your piss will be clear and light yellow, or there will be consequences.
Read my profile. If you want to be my Throat Whore and my Urinal, reply with a detailed description of the last time you hurt yourself for pleasure. Include what you wore, what you used, and what you tasted.
08.04.26 19:40 (Private Message from emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Sir.
This slut read your profile. This slut wants to be your Urinal.
Last Friday evening. She was naked except for a pair of ankle restraints connected to the spreader bar, forcing her legs wide. She had the ring gag strapped tight, drool already pooling on the floor. She attached the clamps to her tiny nipples and hung a 500g weight from the chain. The dull, crushing pain made her cunt clench and drip immediately. She put the large plug in her ass, feeling that specific, wonderful stretch of being filled against her will.
She knelt in front of the toilet. She plunged her face into the bowl, licking the porcelain clean while her weighted nipples dragged on the floor. Then she drank a full liter of water, waited, and pissed in a bowl on the floor. She lapped it all out of the bowl like a piss addicted dog. She didn't waste a drop. Afterward, she spanked her own cunt with the paddle until she was sobbing, but she didn't cum. She never cums without permission. She just dripped and leaked onto the bathroom tiles and wiped it up with her hair like a good piss mop.
This is what this slut is. A horny little object meant for suffering.
Respectfully,
emmy_the_urinal
09.04.26 15:22 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Acceptable.
You write well, Slut. That's important. I need to visualize the suffering.
From now on, you will address me as Master or Sir. I will call you whatever piece of filth I see you as at that moment. Today you are Piss Slut.
Let's clarify limits. You say "messy." Define it. If I tell you to rub cooking oil on your tits and then crawl in the dirt of your garden, is that "messy" or is it "outdoor whore training"? You will not waste my time with ambiguous squeamishness. You are a toilet slut. Toilets get wet and gross.
Also, you will inform me of your daily schedule. And your water intake. I want to know that my urinal is being kept primed and ready.
09.04.26 18:05 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
Messy: This slut meant food waste, mud baths, or things that would ruin furniture permanently. Crawling in garden dirt, oil, or her own dried piss/slime is not messy. That is hygiene for a Piss Slut. She will crawl in whatever filth you command.
Schedule:
Mon-Fri: Work 08:00-16:00. After 16:30, the building is empty. This slut is often the last one there. She has keys.
Evenings: Free. She lives alone.
Weekends: Usually free, except for grading papers. This slut can be your full-time pain pig on weekends.
This slut has drunk 3 liters of water today, Master. Her bladder is full of piss.
She is at home now. Naked. Her nipples are still sore from the clamps last night, Master. This slut is such a horny little object just thinking about you reading this.
09.04.26 18:15 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Evening Task
Good girl for clarifying. You may keep your job. For now.
Since you are naked and sore:
09.04.26 18:28 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
Report.
This slut did it. The binder clips are vicious. The pain is a deep, burning ache. She tied the strings to her big toes. Every time she moved to kneel or lap at the floor, her toes pulled the strings and the clips yanked her nipples outward. It felt like they were being pulled off her body.
She knelt on the cold tile and let her bladder go. The piss was light yellow and warm and spread across the white floor. She lowered her face into the puddle. She lapped it up with her tongue, her nipples screaming every time she stretched her neck forward. She licked the floor dry. Her mouth tastes of fresh piss, this is how this horny little object belongs.
Her cunt is dripping onto the tiles now, mixing with the last traces of piss. This slut is a dripping, desperate mess.
Thank you for making her tits suffer, Master.
10.04.26 00:45 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Late night check
Couldn't sleep. Old men don't sleep.
Are the clips still on, Pain Pig? Or did you take them off the second I wasn't looking?
10.04.26 06:30 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
This slut kept them on for another 45 minutes with one small break in between. She laid on her back with her knees bent, feeling the constant tug from her toes. When she finally removed them, the blood rushed back and it felt like fire ants biting her nipples. They are purple and swollen this morning. She can't wear a bra. She is wearing a loose sweater to work so the fabric doesn't touch them. She is a teacher standing in front of a class with abused whore nipples hidden under cotton. It makes her so wet she can smell herself. This slut is such a horny little object.
Thank you, Master.
12.04.26 14:00 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: The Piss Bottle
Every time you piss for the next 48 hours, you will do it into a bottle. I want you to collect lots of your own piss. Drink water before you start. Do not flush. You will cap the bottle and keep it in your fridge.
When you are at home, you will use that bottle as your only source of liquid to wet your mouth or swallow. If you need to drink, you drink from the bottle.
You will also use that piss to wet your hair before you mop the floor. You may start with a new bottle after 24 hours.
Report Saturday night.
14.04.26 21:30 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Subject: Weekend Report
Master.
The bottle is half full. The color is light yellow, like a well-maintained fountain. This slut is staying hydrated, just as commanded.
Yesterday this slut was cleaning. She knelt, opened the bottle, and dipped her hair into the cold, stale piss. It soaked into her roots. She then crawled on her hands and knees, using her piss-soaked hair to scrub the kitchen floor. The smell was in her nose for hours. It was degrading and perfect.
Today she drank a full glass of it. It was cold and she really had to overcome the mental barrier, but she did it. It felt so unnatural to fill her stomach with her cooled own waste, but she is a urinal, and this is what this horny little object is for.
This slut also spent two hours with the ring gag in, drooling into a bowl. She mixed the drool with a little more piss and rubbed it all over her small tits. They are sticky and smell like a urinal cake. She is lying in bed now, covered in her own dried saliva and urine. This slut feels like the filth she is.
Your Urinal.
17.04.26 09:15 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Morning coffee
Good morning, Slut.
You are a teacher. You mold young minds. That makes me want to degrade you even more.
When you are alone in the classroom after 16:30 today, you will crawl under your own desk. You will take the cane (or a ruler). You will lift your blouse and give yourself 10 hard strokes on your bare tits. Aim for the nipples.
Then you will stand up, put on your professional smile, and walk out of the building like nothing happened. Every movement of your arms should remind you that you are just a Pain Slut hiding in a teacher's body.
Report when home.
17.04.26 17:50 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
This slut did it. The building was empty. She locked her classroom door. She crawled under the desk, her skirt hiked up, her knees on the dirty floor where students drop pencils.
She lifted her blouse and aimed the ruler at her small, already tender tits. 10 times. Hard. The sting on the nipples was immediate and sharp. She had to bite her tongue not to cry out.
Then she put the blouse down and stood up. Walking to the car was agony as the fabric scraped the fresh welts. Her cunt was soaked through her panties. She had to sit on a towel in the car.
This slut is home now. She wants to kiss the ruler that hurt her. This slut is a horny little object made for pain.
Thank you for making her suffer where she pretends to be normal.
20.04.26 22:00 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Figging & Cunt Torture
Listen carefully, Maso Whore. This is a longer assignment for the weekend.
Preparation: You will carve a fresh ginger root into a plug shape. Thick enough to stretch your ass, with a flared base.
The Scene:
22.04.26 11:40 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Subject: Report: Figging and Bathtub Piss
Master.
This slut did this last night. She is still shaking.
She carved the ginger root as instructed. The moment she pushed it past her tight ring, the cool juice hit the sensitive skin inside her. Then the heat started. It is a deep, biological burning. Her asshole felt like it was on fire from the inside out. She wanted to clench, but that squeezed more juice out and made it worse. She was moaning just from the insertion.
Then she laid in the tub. Blindfolded. All she had was the sound of her own ragged breathing and the echo of the tub.
Next she picked up the riding crop. Her small tits were already trembling. She brought the crop down on the right nipple. The thwack sound echoed in the bathroom. The sting was sharp and immediate. She hit her own tits 40 times total, 20 per side, aiming right for the sensitive nubs. They are swollen and striped with red welts. She was crying out with each hit, but she didn't stop. This pain pig is what this horny little object craves to be.
While hitting her tits, she released her bladder. The stream was light yellow and warm and hit her chest, splashing up onto her face and into her open mouth. She swallowed. She was a fountain of filth, mixing the sting of the crop with the warmth of her own waste.
She took her dildo and fucked her burning, aching cunt. 5 times she brought herself to the edge. Her legs were shaking. She was sobbing from the combined pain of the ginger fire, the bruised tits, and the denied orgasm. The sound of her whimpers and the crop strikes echoed in the tiled room.
After 30 minutes, she pulled the ginger out. The relief was immense, but the residual burn lasted an hour. She slept in her piss-soaked bed.
This slut is a hollow, used vessel. A horny little object.
Your Pain Pig.
27.04.26 08:00 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Monday Mood
Good morning, Anal Whore.
That report was exquisite. I read it three times.
Today is a simple command. Deepthroat training.
Find your ring gag. Put it in. Take the suction dildo and stick it to the floor. You will kneel over it and fuck your own throat for 15 minutes straight. You are not allowed to use your hands to pull it out unless you are about to vomit. If you vomit, you will lick it up.
I want your throat sore so that when you speak to your students tomorrow, your voice is hoarse and you remember who owns your windpipe.
27.04.26 19:20 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
Done. The ring gag was so tight her jaw is aching. She drooled a puddle on the floor the size of a dinner plate. She knelt and forced her throat down onto the silicone cock. She gagged violently at first, her eyes watering, thick strings of spit hanging from the ring. But she kept going. 15 minutes of violating her own throat.
Afterward, she wiped her face and hair through the puddle of drool. She looked like a drowned rat.
Her voice is a raspy, broken whisper now. Perfect for teaching grammar tomorrow. This slut is such a horny little object, knowing her voice is ruined by throat-fucking a fake cock for a Master an ocean away.
Thank you for using her throat, Master.
01.05.26 21:00 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Nettle Whore
It's spring. Nettles are growing.
You will get on your bike and ride to the forest to pick a handful of fresh stinging nettles. Bring them home.
Tonight, naked, you will strip naked and go outside in your garden. You will spread your legs and rub the nettles all over your cunt and inner thighs until the burning is unbearable.
Then you will put clothespins on your labia. 3 on each side.
You will stay like that for 20 minutes, listening to the sounds of your own whimpers and the sounds of the night. You are a hidden Outdoor Slut being tortured by plants and wood.
You will check for lights in the windows before all the time, being in fear to get discovered. You are an outdoor whore, be aware. Be careful. The risk of being seen by a turned-off window is the thrill.
Report.
01.05.26 22:45 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
This slut did it. She rode her bike to the edge of the forest. She felt like a criminal just picking weeds, but she knew what they were for. Her cunt was wet the whole ride home.
Back at home, she stripped. She opened her back door and the air was cold on her bare body. She was so nervous to step out, having the neighbor houses in her eyes, looking for a light or movement, all her senses sharpened. Outside she felt so vulnerable and slutty. Then the nettles... fuck. The sting is a thousand tiny needles. She rubbed them hard into her soft, wet lips. The skin is swollen and bumpy now. Then the clothespins. Adding pressure to the stinging flesh. It is a unique, layered agony. She sat there, in the dark garden, listening to the world around, her cunt on fire.
Suffering as an outdoor slut, imagining what it would be like to be seen. It made her drip even more.
Her whole groin is radiating heat and pain. This slut is going to sleep with this burning sensation as her blanket. She is a horny little object, and Outdoor Slut is her favorite thing to be.
Thank you, Master.
15.05.26 16:45 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: After Hours
Are you still at work, Toilet Slut?
I see the time. 16:45. Building is empty.
Confirm you are reading this immediately.
15.05.26 16:46 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Yes Master. This slut is alone in her classroom. Door locked. She is a horny little object waiting for command.
15.05.26 16:48 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Good. Take the Sharpie from your desk.
Lift your skirt. Pull your panties down to your knees.
Write on your lower belly, just above your cunt: "PISS MOP"
Write on your inner thigh: "MASTER'S URINAL"
Now go to the staff restroom. The one you use every day.
Kneel in front of the toilet. Put your face in the bowl. Count to 60.
Then go back to your car and go home. Do not wash the ink off until tomorrow morning.
Report when you are home, covered in ink and toilet water.
15.05.26 17:30 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
This slut is home. She is shaking.
She wrote the words. They are black and bold against her pale skin. She walked down the empty hallway to the staff bathroom. The floor was cold. She knelt and pushed her face into the bowl. It smelled of cleaning bleach and faintly of other people's piss. She counted to 60, her nose pressed against the porcelain.
Then she stood up, pulled up her panties over the wet ink, and walked to her car. The words are now smeared but readable: "PISS MOP". Every bump in the road she felt the wet spot from the toilet water soaking into her underwear.
This slut is sitting on her own couch now, still unwashed, with a toilet water stain on her skirt. She feels like the lowest piece of filth in the school. This slut is a horny little object and this is where she belongs.
Thank you, Master. This is what this urinal needed.
05.06.26 20:00 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Two Month Anniversary
Two months, Slut. You have been an excellent Piss Mop and Pain Pig.
For our anniversary, we do something special. Since your tits are too small for binding with rope, we will use other methods to torture those little whore nubs.
The Setup:
05.06.26 21:15 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
This slut is finished. She is crying as she types this. Her hands are shaking.
The rubber bands. She snapped each tiny nipple 10 times. They were red and swollen before the clamps even touched them. Then the clamps bit down. The pull from the chairs was constant and deep. It felt like her tits were being torn from her ribs. Edging made it worse. Every time her hips bucked, the strings yanked.
At the 10th edge, she grabbed the strings and pulled. The clamps are designed to grip. They did not want to let go. There was a pop sound as they released. The pain was a white-hot explosion behind her eyes. She screamed like a wounded animal.
Her nipples are purple, swollen, and one is bleeding just a little from the friction of the rubber band snaps.
Her cunt is so wet it is running down her legs, but she did not cum. This slut is a denied, broken, tortured Urinal.
Two months of your ownership. This slut is more yours now than she was on day one.
Thank you for hurting her, Master. She exists to suffer for you. This slut is a horny little object.
Your Throat Whore / Piss Slut / Pain Pig.
emmy_the_urinal
06.06.26 08:00 (From Master_Gerald_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Good morning
Check your tits. Ice them if needed. But do not put a bra on today. Let the fabric of your shirt scrape those raw whore nipples all day.
You've done well, Slut.
We will discuss month three next week. I'm thinking about nettles and a public park bench at midnight.
Sleep well (or go teach).
Master Gerald.
07.06.26 09:15 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Good morning, Emmy. I've been thinking about you this morning while I had my coffee out on the porch here in California. The sun is warm, the birds are annoying, and I was wondering how those bruised nipples of yours are feeling under that teacher's blouse today. I hope every time you move your arm to write on the board, the fabric scrapes just enough to remind you who pulled those clamps off. You don't have to write a formal report right now, but I want to know: what does the pain feel like exactly? Describe it for an old man who enjoys the details. And be honest—I know you're enjoying it.
07.06.26 09:22 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Old_Master_CA
Hello Sir, the pain... this slut finds it exquisite. It's a deep, throbbing ache right at the tips. The left one is a little scabbed where the skin tore from the rubber band, and that one stings like a papercut whenever anything touches it. The right one is just a dull, heavy bruise that radiates heat outward. She didn't wear a bra like you said. She has a thin cotton blouse on, white with little blue flowers, very professional and sweet-looking, and every time she leans forward to help a student, the fabric shifts and drags across the raw skin. It sends a sharp jolt straight down to her cunt. She has to clench her thighs together under the desk. This slut is sitting here in a room full of sixteen-year-olds, pretending to care about Danish literature, while her pussy is soaking through her panties because her nipples hurt so beautifully. It's the most depraved secret. And yes, Master, this slut is enjoying it. She is enjoying it so much that she feels like a complete degenerate. This pain pig is such a horny little object. Thank you for asking.
09.06.26 19:40 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Old_Master_CA
Master, this slut is home. The apartment is so quiet. It's just her and the silence and this need inside her that is driving her crazy. She has been thinking about being used all day.
She has been touching herself. This slut knows she is not supposed to without permission. She is sorry. She hasn't edged or anything, just... her hand keeps drifting down there while she is reading your old messages. She will read about the nettles or the binder clips and she will just start rubbing her clit through her pants without even realizing it. Then she catches herself and stops. But she is so wet all the time now, Master. It's a constant, aching drip. She feels like a faucet that's been left on. This slut needs you to turn the handle tighter or something. She needs you to hurt her again. Please. This slut is begging you. What do you want her to do tonight? She will do anything. She will be your Piss Mop, your Urinal, your Pain Pig. She craves it.
09.06.26 21:05 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
You're admitting you're addicted. That's good. That's exactly where I want you. A needy little Throat Whore who just wants to be used again.
I won't punish you for touching yourself, not this time. Because you told me the truth. But I want you to understand something: your pleasure belongs to me now. That dripping cunt of yours is my property. You don't get to touch it for comfort. You touch it when I tell you to, for my entertainment.
Tonight, you're not going to do anything drastic. You're going to take care of yourself for me. I want you to run a bath. You're going to get in and lie there. You're going to think about the last two months. Every single task. The ginger, the nettles, the toilet water on your face. You're going to let yourself get aroused by the memories, but you are not going to touch yourself. Your hands will stay on the edges of the tub. If your cunt aches and clenches around nothing, that's perfect. That's the feeling of being owned. I want you to lie there for thirty minutes, letting the water get cold.
Then you'll get out, dry off, and write me a detailed description of what was going through your head while you laid in that cooling water. Use that vivid teacher's vocabulary of yours. I want to feel the goosebumps. And tomorrow, if the report is good, we will start something new. Something that involves your car and a very public, but hidden, act of degradation.
09.06.26 22:50 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. This slut did exactly as you said. She is writing this with her hair still damp and her body still chilled.
She filled the tub with hot water. She laid back and the water covered her small tits, making the bruised skin ache even more. Her hands gripped the porcelain edges like you said.
Then she let her mind go back. She thought about kneeling on the bathroom floor, her hair soaked in her own stale piss, scrubbing the tiles. She could almost smell it again. She thought about the ginger plug and that deep, burning fire in her asshole. She thought about the nettles on her cunt and the clothespins biting down. She thought about you reading her reports. About your eyes on her words.
Her cunt started to pulse. She was on fire. She could feel her own wetness leaking out into the bathwater. She wanted so badly to just slide one finger down, just to feel how slick she was. Her hips started to rock involuntarily, seeking friction against the water itself. But she kept her hands on the edge. She gripped so hard her knuckles went white.
The water got colder. Her skin was covered in goosebumps. Her nipples were so hard and painful they felt like they were going to crack. And her cunt was just... aching. Empty and aching and clenching on nothing. She felt so incredibly vulnerable and exposed and owned. Like a specimen in a jar for you to observe. This slut is a horny little object.
When the thirty minutes were up, she wanted to throw herself on the floor and hump the bathmat, she was that desperate. But she didn't. She came straight here to write to you. She is so wet she can feel it slick between her thighs even after toweling off.
10.06.26 16:45 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
That was a beautiful report, Emmy. I could picture you there, a little Piss Slut with a burning cunt. That's exactly the state of mind I want you in. Desperate and obedient.
Now, for what I promised. This involves your car, and it involves the school parking lot after hours. You said you're often the last one there. Good.
Here is what I want you to do tomorrow, Friday, after everyone else has left for the weekend. The parking lot should be empty, but there's always a risk of a janitor or a late parent. That risk is part of the fun for an Outdoor Slut like you, isn't it?
12.06.26 21:10 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. This slut did it last night. She was going to write immediately, but she was so shaken and aroused that she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep afterward. She needed to process it. She is ready to tell you everything now.
Friday afternoon. She stayed late grading papers. She watched the last car leave the staff lot around 4:45 PM. The janitor's truck was still there, but he works on the opposite side of the building. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she gathered her purse and walked to her car. Inside her purse, the ball gag felt like a heavy secret.
She drove to the far corner as you instructed. It's bordered by a row of overgrown lilac bushes and then an empty field. She backed in. The sun was getting low, casting long shadows. She sat there for a moment, listening. A bird. The distant hum of a lawnmower somewhere in the neighborhood. Her own ragged breathing.
She took off her clothes. Piece by piece. Her blouse. Her skirt. Her bra—the fabric pulling slightly on those still-tender nipples. Her panties, which were already damp just from the anticipation. She folded them neatly on the passenger seat. She was naked in her own car, in the school parking lot. Her skin looked pale and vulnerable in the fading light.
She strapped the ball gag in. It's a red one, and it forces her jaw open wide. Immediately, saliva started to pool in her mouth. She put on the blindfold. The world went black. Her other senses sharpened instantly.
She pulled the handle and pushed the driver's door open. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet lot. She froze, listening. Nothing. Just the breeze rustling the lilac bushes. She swung her legs out. The asphalt was cool and slightly rough under her bare soles. The air hit her wet cunt and she gasped around the gag. She was so exposed. If anyone walked by, they would just see a pair of bare legs dangling from a car door, but if they came closer... if they came closer they would see everything.
She stood up and tried to relax her bladder. It took a moment because she was so tense. Then it came. A hot, light-yellow stream splashing out and running down the inside of her thigh, dripping onto the asphalt below with a soft patter. The smell rose up, sharp and warm. She was pissing in front of her own car, in her workplace parking lot. A thick strand of drool escaped the ball gag and hung down her chin.
Then she brought her hand down. Her fingers were wet with piss. She touched her clit. It was like an electric shock. She was so sensitive, so wet, so utterly degraded. She started to rub slow circles. The world was just blackness, the taste of rubber, the smell of her own urine, and the feeling of her fingers on her most private part, out in the open air.
She listened. A car drove past on the main road, maybe 100 meters away. Its tires hummed. They had no idea. She edged the first time quickly, her hips bucking against her hand, a muffled moan lost in the gag. She stopped, panting, her cunt throbbing. The second edge was harder to stop. Her body wanted to keep going, to just tip over. She pulled her hand away and gripped the seat, her knuckles white, her cunt clenching painfully around nothing. A low, desperate whine came from her throat. The third edge... she was crying behind the blindfold. Real tears mixing with the drool. She rubbed her clit until she was right there, teetering on the edge of a cliff, and then she snatched her hand away and slammed her thighs together. She sobbed into the gag.
She pulled off the blindfold. The twilight seemed blindingly bright. She sat back for a long minute, just shaking, her bare legs trembling, her feet in a puddle of her own piss. Then she dried her feet with a towel and pulled her legs in and closed the door. The silence of the car interior was deafening. She unstrapped the gag and a flood of drool poured down her chest. She looked down at herself. A naked, piss-soaked, crying, desperate whore in a car seat. She cleaned herself up. Her legs were weak when she finally drove home. This urinal is a horny little object.
13.06.26 10:00 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
That was a masterpiece, Slut. The image of you, blind and pissing in the school lot, is burned into my memory. You are a depraved work of art. I want you to take today to rest. Hydrate. Ice those tits again if they need it. You've earned a day of being just a regular teacher. Tomorrow, we begin again.
17.06.26 09:00 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Slut, tonight I want to test your pain threshold again. Tonight, you will use the riding crop on your cunt. Not the tits this time. Your cunt. 25 hard strokes directly on the lips and clit. Count them out loud. After each one, say, "This cunt belongs to Master." Then edge once, with your fingers, feeling the sting of the crop as you rub. Do not cum. Report.
17.06.26 22:10 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. This slut is shaking. She did it. She laid on the bed, legs spread wide. She brought the crop down on her wet, swollen cunt. The first stroke was a line of fire. She cried out, "One. This cunt belongs to Master." By the tenth stroke, her cunt was on fire, the lips red and swollen. She was sobbing the words. By the twenty-fifth, she was just a quivering, weeping mess of pain and submission.
Then she touched her clit. It was so sensitive, so bruised, that even the lightest touch was agony and ecstasy. She rubbed to the edge quickly, the pain mixing with the pleasure until she couldn't tell them apart. She pulled away just as she was about to explode. Her cunt is throbbing, a deep, hot ache. It feels like it's been stung by a thousand nettles from the inside out. This slut is a horny little object, and her cunt is your property to hurt as you see fit. Thank you, Master.
18.06.26 08:45 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Good morning, my desperate little slut. I've been reading your messages. Enjoying them.
Now, about that task that scares you. You mentioned your limits include "no involving others." I respect that. But this task involves the potential of involving others. The risk. The fear of being seen. That's different, isn't it? That's the thrill you get from being an Outdoor Slut.
Here it is. Next weekend, when you have time, I want you to go to a public park. A park with trees and paths, but also with some secluded spots. You will wear a long coat. Underneath, you will be completely naked. You will find a bench in a slightly secluded area of the park. You will sit down, open your coat just enough to expose your cunt to the open air, and you will edge yourself with your fingers while people walk their dogs and push strollers somewhere nearby. The risk of being caught is the point. The fear in your gut is the point.
Tell me your thoughts. And tell me about the vibrator situation. If you don't have one, we can focus on the manual aspect. But the idea of you sitting on a park bench, hidden only by a flasher's coat, touching your wet cunt while families enjoy their Saturday... that's what I want in my head. This isn't about making you dependent; this is about making you do something perverted because I want to see you do it.
18.06.26 19:20 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. This slut read your message at work and had to go to the bathroom to compose herself. Her face was flushed, her hands were shaking. The idea terrifies her. Absolutely terrifies her. And it also makes her cunt clench so hard she can barely breathe.
She doesn't have a remote vibrator. She has thought about buying one, but they're expensive and she was always too shy. She does have a small, cheap bullet vibe. It's quiet, but not silent. She could hold it in her hand under the coat. It would be obvious what she was doing if someone got close, but from a distance, maybe just a woman sitting on a bench with her hand in her pocket.
The thought of sitting there, exposed, in a public park... Master, this slut is scared. But she is also so desperate to do this for you, to show you what a perverted, nasty little plaything she can be. She wants to be that Outdoor Slut for you. The one who risks everything just because you're a sadist who enjoys watching her squirm. She wants to be sitting on that bench, her heart pounding, her cunt wet and open to the breeze, and know that she is doing it because you told her to.
This slut will do it. She will do it this Saturday, if the weather is good. She will find a park. She will wear her long grey trench coat and nothing else. She will take the bullet vibe and her own fingers. And she will edge herself for you, in public, with the taste of fear in her mouth.
This slut is a horny little object, and she craves to be used in this way. Thank you for pushing her.
21.06.26 15:30 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. This slut did it. She did it today. It's Saturday. The park was busy. She needs to tell you everything.
She wore the trench coat. Underneath, nothing but her own skin. The walk from her car to the park entrance felt like a mile. Every brush of the coat lining against her bare nipples made her gasp. They're still sensitive from everything we've done. She felt so naked, so vulnerable. There were families with children, couples walking hand-in-hand, old people feeding ducks. And there she was, a secret whore in a coat.
She found a bench near a small pond, partially hidden by a large willow tree. It wasn't completely secluded—she could still see the path about twenty meters away, and people walked by occasionally. She sat down. The wood was cool on her bare ass. She took a deep breath and undid the bottom buttons of the coat, just enough to part the fabric and expose her cunt to the air. The breeze was cool on her wetness. She was already dripping.
She took out the little bullet vibe and turned it on. The buzz was faint, but in the quiet of the park, it seemed so loud. She held it against her clit, hidden by her coat and her hand. The sensation was immediate and intense. She closed her eyes for a moment, just feeling it. Then she opened them and watched the path.
A woman jogged by with a stroller. She didn't even glance her way. Her heart was hammering. She pressed the vibe harder and felt the edge approaching. She pulled it away just in time, her hips giving a little involuntary jerk. A wave of heat washed over her. She was panting.
She did it twice more. Each time, the risk felt greater. An elderly man walked his dog and the dog veered toward her bench, sniffing. She froze, the vibe still buzzing against her thigh. The man called the dog back and apologized with a smile. He had no idea that she was sitting there with her cunt out, on the edge of orgasm. After he left, she let herself get to the edge a third time, her whole body trembling, tears pricking her eyes from the intensity of the denial. She wanted to cum so badly she could have screamed. But she didn't. She turned off the vibe, buttoned her coat, and sat there for ten minutes just shaking.
She felt so incredibly filthy. So used. She walked back to her car, her legs weak, her cunt aching and dripping down her thighs. This slut is home now. She still hasn't washed. She can smell herself—the sharp scent of her own desperate arousal. She is lying on her bed, writing this to you, and she feels like the most depraved, useful, wonderful Urinal in the world. This pain pig is a horny little object.
Thank you so much, for pushing her to this Sir.
21.06.26 18:10 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Emmy. I am extremely proud of you. You faced your fear and you let me push you right to the edge of it—literally and figuratively. The image of you on that bench, exposed and trembling, while life went on around you... that's art. That's the kind of perverted suffering I enjoy inflicting from 5,000 miles away.
So here is your next week. I want you to continue the edging. Every single night. At least three edges. You may use your fingers, your toys, whatever you like, but you will not cum. I want you to go to work every day with that familiar ache between your legs, that wetness that never quite dries. I want you to think of yourself as a vessel that is constantly being filled with unspent lust. A horny little object on the verge of boiling over.
And to keep you connected to me physically, I want you to do one more thing. Tomorrow morning, before work, you will take a long piece of string. You will tie it tightly around the base of each of your small tits, making them bulge and turn red. You will leave it on for exactly fifteen minutes while you have your coffee. Then you will take it off and go to work. The ache from the binding will linger for hours. Every time you feel it, I want you to whisper, "Thank you, Master." Under your breath. In the classroom. In the hallway.
Let's see how desperate we can make you, Emmy. I'm enjoying this immensely.
28.06.26 22:30 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. It's been a week of this. A week of torturing her tits in the morning, a week of edging every night until she is sobbing into her pillow with frustration. Her body is a symphony of constant, low-level pain and overwhelming arousal. She wakes up wet. She goes to sleep wet. She dreams about you. She dreams about the park bench, the parking lot, the sting of nettles.
This slut loves it. She craves this. She is doing all of this because she wants to. Because the feeling of being your urinal, your pain pig, your throat whore… This slut is a horny little object who has found her purpose in being your plaything.
This slut wants more. She wants you to be meaner. More evil. She wants you to think of the nastiest, most humiliating things you can imagine, and then make her do them. Use her body and will for your own sadistic pleasure.
01.07.26 07:30 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
We're entering a new phase. You want meaner? You want nastier? Good. I'm a sadistic old man, and I have a vivid imagination. Month Four is going to be about deepening the filth. I want to get inside your head by making your body do things that would make a whore blush. Small things. Constant things. Things that make you feel like my piece of furniture even when you're standing in front of a class.
And because you've been such a good, needy slut, I'm giving you a reward. Tonight, after you edge for three times, I want you to go into your bathroom, kneel in the tub, and piss all over your own face and chest. Then, while you're still dripping with your own warm urine, I want you to say out loud: "Thank you, Master, for owning this Urinal." And then you may have one orgasm. Just one. Make it count. Tell me about it afterward.
You've earned this, Emmy. You're mine.
01.07.26 23:15 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Old_Master_CA
Master, she did as you said tonight. She edged three times. By the third edge, she was a quivering mess, her sheets soaked with sweat and her own juices. Then she went to the bathroom. She knelt in the cold tub. She looked up at the showerhead and imagined you were standing over her. She let go. The piss was hot and it splashed against her face, into her open mouth, down her chin and over her small bound tits. She closed her eyes and let it soak her hair. She felt so beautiful in her filth.
She said the words. "Thank you, Master, for owning this Urinal." Her voice was thick with piss and emotion.
And then she touched her clit. It was so swollen and sensitive from a week of denial. It only took a few seconds. The orgasm crashed over her like a wave. She saw white. Her whole body convulsed in the tub, splashing in the puddle of her own piss. She screamed your name. It was the most intense, soul-shaking release she has ever felt in her life. It was a gift from you.
This slut is lying in bed now, still smelling of piss, her body limp and satisfied. For the first time in weeks, the desperate ache is quiet. But she knows it will come back. And she knows you'll be there to make it worse, and then better, and then worse again.
02.07.26 08:00 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Good morning, my satisfied little Urinal. I'm glad you enjoyed your reward. You deserved it. But don't get too comfortable. That was a pressure release valve, not a new normal. The ache will be back by tonight, and I'll be here to cultivate it.
Month four... let's just say I've been reading about Scandinavian forests. And nettles. And I have some very creative, very nasty ideas about combining the two. Rest up, Emmy. You're going to need your strength. Because I'm going to be mean.
Your Master,
G.
03.07.26 09:00 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: The Purpose of July
Good morning, slut. I hope you enjoyed that orgasm on the first. Don't get used to that feeling. That was a pressure release so you didn't boil over. Now we get back to work, and July is going to be a very long, very wet month for you.
I have been thinking about numbers. You like to suffer. You like to be denied. You like to be a dripping mess. You crave being pushed. So let's quantify that suffering. I am setting a target for the month of July. You will edge five hundred times before August 1st. That's roughly sixteen edges a day. Some days more, some days less, but the total by the end of the month will be 500. You will keep a written tally. You will report the running total to me every evening along with a description of your current state. And you will not have another orgasm until I say so. If you fail and accidentally cum, there will be consequences. Very painful ones involving nettles and the riding crop on your raw cunt.
This is not about breaking you, Emmy. You're too strong and self-aware for that. This is about giving you exactly what you want: to be turned into the most desperate, aching, piss-soaked piece of fuckmeat you can possibly be. I want you to go to work with your cunt so swollen and wet that you leave damp spots on your chair. I want you to be so constantly aroused that you can't think straight. And I want you to do it all because you love being this slut, and because I am a sadist who enjoys the image of you, thousands of miles away, squirming in your own filth for my amusement. Your health and well-being are my responsibility, which is why you will continue to hydrate and not do anything permanently damaging. But within those bounds, I will be evil.
First edge of the day. Right now. Before you even reply. Use your fingers. Tell me how it felt, and call yourself what you are.
03.07.26 09:07 (From emmy_the_urinal)
To: Old_Master_CA
Subject: Re: The Purpose of July
Master. Five hundred. This slut read that number and her cunt clenched so hard it almost hurt. Five hundred edges. Her purpose for the entire month of July is just to edge and drip and ache for you. She is so grateful. This is what this urinal was made for. This slut is a horny little object, and you are giving this object a reason to exist.
She did the first edge right here at the kitchen table. Fingers pushed inside her wet cunt, rubbing that swollen clit until the wave started to build. She pulled her hand away just as her thighs started to shake. The denial hit like a punch in the gut. Her cunt is already leaking onto the wooden chair. A little clear puddle of whore juice. She is a dripping mess and she loves it. This slut loves that you are making her do this.
She is going to work soon. She will be thinking about edge number two all day. This slut will be a horny little object standing in front of a class of teenagers, pretending to be a normal person while her panties are soaked through.
Total edges: 1. Four hundred ninety-nine to go. Thank you for giving this pain pig a purpose, Master.
03.07.26 12:15 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Nettle Hike
That's what I like to hear. A slut who knows her place and embraces it. I'm glad you're grateful. You should be. I'm giving you exactly what your twisted little body craves.
Now, I've been researching your local flora. Danish forests in July. Lots of nettles. Lots of secluded spots. I want you to find a place. A real forest, not just a park. Somewhere you can be alone. This weekend, you're going to take a hike. Naked under a long coat again. You'll find a patch of stinging nettles and you're going to lie down in them. On your back. You'll spread your legs and let those leaves sting your ass, your thighs, and especially that wet, needy cunt of yours. You'll lie there for fifteen minutes, just letting the burn sink in. Then you'll get up, put your coat back on, and drive home with your skin on fire.
I want a full report on that. And I want you to edge at least five times while you're lying in the nettles. That will count toward your total. Let the pain and the denial mix together. I want you to be a whimpering, stinging, desperate little animal by the time you get home. Because I want to imagine it.
How many edges are you at now, Pain Pig?
Tell me, what you think, if you want to read more, I had a lot of edges to perform and there are a lot more weeks of Emmys torture I produced
xoxo sarah
The result gave me good support on working on my edges. So I wanted to chare it with you
I gave a lot of input and reviewed the result and made some changes. I mixed up autobiographical elements and fictional elements and this is, what came about.
The message exchange was beginning on April 7, 2026 running into future. The timestamps reflect Danish local time (CET/CEST) . The Master is Gerald, a retired engineer in California. The slave is Emmy, a 33-year-old teacher living alone in Aarhus.
Here is the complete message history, including the initial board contact, private negotiation, real-time command sessions, and detailed task reports.
Handle: emmy_the_urinal & Master_Gerald_CA
Subject: 33F Denmark - Piss toilet / pain pig / throat whore seeks strict creative sadist for online control.
This slut is a 33-year-old teacher with a small, slim body and tiny 75A tits. No ink, no metal. She lives alone. Her purpose is to entertain by suffering, being degraded, and being used as a piece of filth.
Likes: Clamps, deepthroat, piss (drinking/wetting), gags, plugs, humiliation, bondage, blindfold, outdoor exposure, toilets, spanking, nettles, pain, body writing, figging, creativity.
Limits: Pics/video, injury, blood, breath play, scat, ATM, involving others, permanent marks, messy (food), enemas, toothpaste/bengay.
Toys: Spreader bar, restraints, anal plug, suction dildo, clothespins, nipple clamps, binder clips (this slut removes the wire handles), ring/ball gag, blindfold, paddle, riding crop, cane, rope, rubber bands, ice, sharpies.
This slut needs a Master who understands that this piece of urinal equipment needs to be kept hydrated to provide a fresh, light-yellow stream. This slut is a pain pig and an outdoor whore. She edges and drips constantly. She does not cum without permission.
To: emmy_the_urinal
You sound like a useful piece of plumbing. A Danish toilet slut who understands she is furniture. I am Gerald. I'm 68. I live in California. I have been breaking sluts like you for longer than you've been alive.
I am strict. I will make those small tits ache for days. I will make you mop floors with your piss-soaked hair. I am creative and I like to see how far a pain pig can go before she squeals. I also read your post carefully: you will hydrate. I have no interest in a urinal that produces thick, concentrated waste. You will drink water constantly. Your piss will be clear and light yellow, or there will be consequences.
Read my profile. If you want to be my Throat Whore and my Urinal, reply with a detailed description of the last time you hurt yourself for pleasure. Include what you wore, what you used, and what you tasted.
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Sir.
This slut read your profile. This slut wants to be your Urinal.
Last Friday evening. She was naked except for a pair of ankle restraints connected to the spreader bar, forcing her legs wide. She had the ring gag strapped tight, drool already pooling on the floor. She attached the clamps to her tiny nipples and hung a 500g weight from the chain. The dull, crushing pain made her cunt clench and drip immediately. She put the large plug in her ass, feeling that specific, wonderful stretch of being filled against her will.
She knelt in front of the toilet. She plunged her face into the bowl, licking the porcelain clean while her weighted nipples dragged on the floor. Then she drank a full liter of water, waited, and pissed in a bowl on the floor. She lapped it all out of the bowl like a piss addicted dog. She didn't waste a drop. Afterward, she spanked her own cunt with the paddle until she was sobbing, but she didn't cum. She never cums without permission. She just dripped and leaked onto the bathroom tiles and wiped it up with her hair like a good piss mop.
This is what this slut is. A horny little object meant for suffering.
Respectfully,
emmy_the_urinal
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Acceptable.
You write well, Slut. That's important. I need to visualize the suffering.
From now on, you will address me as Master or Sir. I will call you whatever piece of filth I see you as at that moment. Today you are Piss Slut.
Let's clarify limits. You say "messy." Define it. If I tell you to rub cooking oil on your tits and then crawl in the dirt of your garden, is that "messy" or is it "outdoor whore training"? You will not waste my time with ambiguous squeamishness. You are a toilet slut. Toilets get wet and gross.
Also, you will inform me of your daily schedule. And your water intake. I want to know that my urinal is being kept primed and ready.
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
Messy: This slut meant food waste, mud baths, or things that would ruin furniture permanently. Crawling in garden dirt, oil, or her own dried piss/slime is not messy. That is hygiene for a Piss Slut. She will crawl in whatever filth you command.
Schedule:
Mon-Fri: Work 08:00-16:00. After 16:30, the building is empty. This slut is often the last one there. She has keys.
Evenings: Free. She lives alone.
Weekends: Usually free, except for grading papers. This slut can be your full-time pain pig on weekends.
This slut has drunk 3 liters of water today, Master. Her bladder is full of piss.
She is at home now. Naked. Her nipples are still sore from the clamps last night, Master. This slut is such a horny little object just thinking about you reading this.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Evening Task
Good girl for clarifying. You may keep your job. For now.
Since you are naked and sore:
- Go to the kitchen. Get two binder clips. Pinch the tips of your small tits.
- Put one on each nipple. Just clamp them on the tip of the tit.
- Attach a piece of string to each clip.
- Tie the other end of the strings to your big toes. You will have to keep your knees bent slightly.
- Kneel on the bathroom floor. Piss on the floor.
- Lap it up like the animal you are.
- Report in 15 minutes.
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
Report.
This slut did it. The binder clips are vicious. The pain is a deep, burning ache. She tied the strings to her big toes. Every time she moved to kneel or lap at the floor, her toes pulled the strings and the clips yanked her nipples outward. It felt like they were being pulled off her body.
She knelt on the cold tile and let her bladder go. The piss was light yellow and warm and spread across the white floor. She lowered her face into the puddle. She lapped it up with her tongue, her nipples screaming every time she stretched her neck forward. She licked the floor dry. Her mouth tastes of fresh piss, this is how this horny little object belongs.
Her cunt is dripping onto the tiles now, mixing with the last traces of piss. This slut is a dripping, desperate mess.
Thank you for making her tits suffer, Master.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Late night check
Couldn't sleep. Old men don't sleep.
Are the clips still on, Pain Pig? Or did you take them off the second I wasn't looking?
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
This slut kept them on for another 45 minutes with one small break in between. She laid on her back with her knees bent, feeling the constant tug from her toes. When she finally removed them, the blood rushed back and it felt like fire ants biting her nipples. They are purple and swollen this morning. She can't wear a bra. She is wearing a loose sweater to work so the fabric doesn't touch them. She is a teacher standing in front of a class with abused whore nipples hidden under cotton. It makes her so wet she can smell herself. This slut is such a horny little object.
Thank you, Master.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: The Piss Bottle
Every time you piss for the next 48 hours, you will do it into a bottle. I want you to collect lots of your own piss. Drink water before you start. Do not flush. You will cap the bottle and keep it in your fridge.
When you are at home, you will use that bottle as your only source of liquid to wet your mouth or swallow. If you need to drink, you drink from the bottle.
You will also use that piss to wet your hair before you mop the floor. You may start with a new bottle after 24 hours.
Report Saturday night.
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Subject: Weekend Report
Master.
The bottle is half full. The color is light yellow, like a well-maintained fountain. This slut is staying hydrated, just as commanded.
Yesterday this slut was cleaning. She knelt, opened the bottle, and dipped her hair into the cold, stale piss. It soaked into her roots. She then crawled on her hands and knees, using her piss-soaked hair to scrub the kitchen floor. The smell was in her nose for hours. It was degrading and perfect.
Today she drank a full glass of it. It was cold and she really had to overcome the mental barrier, but she did it. It felt so unnatural to fill her stomach with her cooled own waste, but she is a urinal, and this is what this horny little object is for.
This slut also spent two hours with the ring gag in, drooling into a bowl. She mixed the drool with a little more piss and rubbed it all over her small tits. They are sticky and smell like a urinal cake. She is lying in bed now, covered in her own dried saliva and urine. This slut feels like the filth she is.
Your Urinal.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Morning coffee
Good morning, Slut.
You are a teacher. You mold young minds. That makes me want to degrade you even more.
When you are alone in the classroom after 16:30 today, you will crawl under your own desk. You will take the cane (or a ruler). You will lift your blouse and give yourself 10 hard strokes on your bare tits. Aim for the nipples.
Then you will stand up, put on your professional smile, and walk out of the building like nothing happened. Every movement of your arms should remind you that you are just a Pain Slut hiding in a teacher's body.
Report when home.
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
This slut did it. The building was empty. She locked her classroom door. She crawled under the desk, her skirt hiked up, her knees on the dirty floor where students drop pencils.
She lifted her blouse and aimed the ruler at her small, already tender tits. 10 times. Hard. The sting on the nipples was immediate and sharp. She had to bite her tongue not to cry out.
Then she put the blouse down and stood up. Walking to the car was agony as the fabric scraped the fresh welts. Her cunt was soaked through her panties. She had to sit on a towel in the car.
This slut is home now. She wants to kiss the ruler that hurt her. This slut is a horny little object made for pain.
Thank you for making her suffer where she pretends to be normal.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Figging & Cunt Torture
Listen carefully, Maso Whore. This is a longer assignment for the weekend.
Preparation: You will carve a fresh ginger root into a plug shape. Thick enough to stretch your ass, with a flared base.
The Scene:
- Insert the ginger plug. You will feel the burn start slowly, then build into a fire.
- You will lie down on your back in your bathtub.
- Put on the blindfold.
- You will use your riding crop. You will hit your small tits with it. 20 strokes on each breast. Hard enough to leave marks.
- While you hit yourself, you will piss on your own chest and let it drip down into your mouth.
- You will edge 5 times using the suction dildo in your pussy, but you will not cum. Not even close to cumming. Pull out if you get close.
- Remove the ginger only after 30 minutes.
- Report: I want a detailed, vivid description of the burn, the taste of the piss, the sound of the crop hitting your whore flesh, and your whimpers echoing in the tub.
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Subject: Report: Figging and Bathtub Piss
Master.
This slut did this last night. She is still shaking.
She carved the ginger root as instructed. The moment she pushed it past her tight ring, the cool juice hit the sensitive skin inside her. Then the heat started. It is a deep, biological burning. Her asshole felt like it was on fire from the inside out. She wanted to clench, but that squeezed more juice out and made it worse. She was moaning just from the insertion.
Then she laid in the tub. Blindfolded. All she had was the sound of her own ragged breathing and the echo of the tub.
Next she picked up the riding crop. Her small tits were already trembling. She brought the crop down on the right nipple. The thwack sound echoed in the bathroom. The sting was sharp and immediate. She hit her own tits 40 times total, 20 per side, aiming right for the sensitive nubs. They are swollen and striped with red welts. She was crying out with each hit, but she didn't stop. This pain pig is what this horny little object craves to be.
While hitting her tits, she released her bladder. The stream was light yellow and warm and hit her chest, splashing up onto her face and into her open mouth. She swallowed. She was a fountain of filth, mixing the sting of the crop with the warmth of her own waste.
She took her dildo and fucked her burning, aching cunt. 5 times she brought herself to the edge. Her legs were shaking. She was sobbing from the combined pain of the ginger fire, the bruised tits, and the denied orgasm. The sound of her whimpers and the crop strikes echoed in the tiled room.
After 30 minutes, she pulled the ginger out. The relief was immense, but the residual burn lasted an hour. She slept in her piss-soaked bed.
This slut is a hollow, used vessel. A horny little object.
Your Pain Pig.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Monday Mood
Good morning, Anal Whore.
That report was exquisite. I read it three times.
Today is a simple command. Deepthroat training.
Find your ring gag. Put it in. Take the suction dildo and stick it to the floor. You will kneel over it and fuck your own throat for 15 minutes straight. You are not allowed to use your hands to pull it out unless you are about to vomit. If you vomit, you will lick it up.
I want your throat sore so that when you speak to your students tomorrow, your voice is hoarse and you remember who owns your windpipe.
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
Done. The ring gag was so tight her jaw is aching. She drooled a puddle on the floor the size of a dinner plate. She knelt and forced her throat down onto the silicone cock. She gagged violently at first, her eyes watering, thick strings of spit hanging from the ring. But she kept going. 15 minutes of violating her own throat.
Afterward, she wiped her face and hair through the puddle of drool. She looked like a drowned rat.
Her voice is a raspy, broken whisper now. Perfect for teaching grammar tomorrow. This slut is such a horny little object, knowing her voice is ruined by throat-fucking a fake cock for a Master an ocean away.
Thank you for using her throat, Master.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Nettle Whore
It's spring. Nettles are growing.
You will get on your bike and ride to the forest to pick a handful of fresh stinging nettles. Bring them home.
Tonight, naked, you will strip naked and go outside in your garden. You will spread your legs and rub the nettles all over your cunt and inner thighs until the burning is unbearable.
Then you will put clothespins on your labia. 3 on each side.
You will stay like that for 20 minutes, listening to the sounds of your own whimpers and the sounds of the night. You are a hidden Outdoor Slut being tortured by plants and wood.
You will check for lights in the windows before all the time, being in fear to get discovered. You are an outdoor whore, be aware. Be careful. The risk of being seen by a turned-off window is the thrill.
Report.
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
This slut did it. She rode her bike to the edge of the forest. She felt like a criminal just picking weeds, but she knew what they were for. Her cunt was wet the whole ride home.
Back at home, she stripped. She opened her back door and the air was cold on her bare body. She was so nervous to step out, having the neighbor houses in her eyes, looking for a light or movement, all her senses sharpened. Outside she felt so vulnerable and slutty. Then the nettles... fuck. The sting is a thousand tiny needles. She rubbed them hard into her soft, wet lips. The skin is swollen and bumpy now. Then the clothespins. Adding pressure to the stinging flesh. It is a unique, layered agony. She sat there, in the dark garden, listening to the world around, her cunt on fire.
Suffering as an outdoor slut, imagining what it would be like to be seen. It made her drip even more.
Her whole groin is radiating heat and pain. This slut is going to sleep with this burning sensation as her blanket. She is a horny little object, and Outdoor Slut is her favorite thing to be.
Thank you, Master.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: After Hours
Are you still at work, Toilet Slut?
I see the time. 16:45. Building is empty.
Confirm you are reading this immediately.
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Yes Master. This slut is alone in her classroom. Door locked. She is a horny little object waiting for command.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Good. Take the Sharpie from your desk.
Lift your skirt. Pull your panties down to your knees.
Write on your lower belly, just above your cunt: "PISS MOP"
Write on your inner thigh: "MASTER'S URINAL"
Now go to the staff restroom. The one you use every day.
Kneel in front of the toilet. Put your face in the bowl. Count to 60.
Then go back to your car and go home. Do not wash the ink off until tomorrow morning.
Report when you are home, covered in ink and toilet water.
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
This slut is home. She is shaking.
She wrote the words. They are black and bold against her pale skin. She walked down the empty hallway to the staff bathroom. The floor was cold. She knelt and pushed her face into the bowl. It smelled of cleaning bleach and faintly of other people's piss. She counted to 60, her nose pressed against the porcelain.
Then she stood up, pulled up her panties over the wet ink, and walked to her car. The words are now smeared but readable: "PISS MOP". Every bump in the road she felt the wet spot from the toilet water soaking into her underwear.
This slut is sitting on her own couch now, still unwashed, with a toilet water stain on her skirt. She feels like the lowest piece of filth in the school. This slut is a horny little object and this is where she belongs.
Thank you, Master. This is what this urinal needed.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Two Month Anniversary
Two months, Slut. You have been an excellent Piss Mop and Pain Pig.
For our anniversary, we do something special. Since your tits are too small for binding with rope, we will use other methods to torture those little whore nubs.
The Setup:
- You will snap a thick rubber band on the base of each nipple. 10 times per nipple. Make them swollen and sensitive.
- You will attach the nipple clamps. The ones that make you whimper.
- You will find two long strings. Tie one to each clamp.
- You will stand in your kitchen. You will tie the other ends of the strings to the heavy wooden kitchen chairs.
- You will move backward until the strings are taut, pulling your nipples out like elastic bands. You will stand like that, feeling the constant, excruciating pull of your small tits being stretched.
- You will edge with your hand. 10 times. Each edge will make you flinch, which will pull the strings harder.
- At the 10th edge, you will pull the strings free with your hands. You will not unclamp them. You will rip the clamps off your nipples using the strings.
- You will scream like a pain whore.
- You will not cum.
To: Master_Gerald_CA
Master.
This slut is finished. She is crying as she types this. Her hands are shaking.
The rubber bands. She snapped each tiny nipple 10 times. They were red and swollen before the clamps even touched them. Then the clamps bit down. The pull from the chairs was constant and deep. It felt like her tits were being torn from her ribs. Edging made it worse. Every time her hips bucked, the strings yanked.
At the 10th edge, she grabbed the strings and pulled. The clamps are designed to grip. They did not want to let go. There was a pop sound as they released. The pain was a white-hot explosion behind her eyes. She screamed like a wounded animal.
Her nipples are purple, swollen, and one is bleeding just a little from the friction of the rubber band snaps.
Her cunt is so wet it is running down her legs, but she did not cum. This slut is a denied, broken, tortured Urinal.
Two months of your ownership. This slut is more yours now than she was on day one.
Thank you for hurting her, Master. She exists to suffer for you. This slut is a horny little object.
Your Throat Whore / Piss Slut / Pain Pig.
emmy_the_urinal
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Good morning
Check your tits. Ice them if needed. But do not put a bra on today. Let the fabric of your shirt scrape those raw whore nipples all day.
You've done well, Slut.
We will discuss month three next week. I'm thinking about nettles and a public park bench at midnight.
Sleep well (or go teach).
Master Gerald.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Good morning, Emmy. I've been thinking about you this morning while I had my coffee out on the porch here in California. The sun is warm, the birds are annoying, and I was wondering how those bruised nipples of yours are feeling under that teacher's blouse today. I hope every time you move your arm to write on the board, the fabric scrapes just enough to remind you who pulled those clamps off. You don't have to write a formal report right now, but I want to know: what does the pain feel like exactly? Describe it for an old man who enjoys the details. And be honest—I know you're enjoying it.
To: Old_Master_CA
Hello Sir, the pain... this slut finds it exquisite. It's a deep, throbbing ache right at the tips. The left one is a little scabbed where the skin tore from the rubber band, and that one stings like a papercut whenever anything touches it. The right one is just a dull, heavy bruise that radiates heat outward. She didn't wear a bra like you said. She has a thin cotton blouse on, white with little blue flowers, very professional and sweet-looking, and every time she leans forward to help a student, the fabric shifts and drags across the raw skin. It sends a sharp jolt straight down to her cunt. She has to clench her thighs together under the desk. This slut is sitting here in a room full of sixteen-year-olds, pretending to care about Danish literature, while her pussy is soaking through her panties because her nipples hurt so beautifully. It's the most depraved secret. And yes, Master, this slut is enjoying it. She is enjoying it so much that she feels like a complete degenerate. This pain pig is such a horny little object. Thank you for asking.
To: Old_Master_CA
Master, this slut is home. The apartment is so quiet. It's just her and the silence and this need inside her that is driving her crazy. She has been thinking about being used all day.
She has been touching herself. This slut knows she is not supposed to without permission. She is sorry. She hasn't edged or anything, just... her hand keeps drifting down there while she is reading your old messages. She will read about the nettles or the binder clips and she will just start rubbing her clit through her pants without even realizing it. Then she catches herself and stops. But she is so wet all the time now, Master. It's a constant, aching drip. She feels like a faucet that's been left on. This slut needs you to turn the handle tighter or something. She needs you to hurt her again. Please. This slut is begging you. What do you want her to do tonight? She will do anything. She will be your Piss Mop, your Urinal, your Pain Pig. She craves it.
To: emmy_the_urinal
You're admitting you're addicted. That's good. That's exactly where I want you. A needy little Throat Whore who just wants to be used again.
I won't punish you for touching yourself, not this time. Because you told me the truth. But I want you to understand something: your pleasure belongs to me now. That dripping cunt of yours is my property. You don't get to touch it for comfort. You touch it when I tell you to, for my entertainment.
Tonight, you're not going to do anything drastic. You're going to take care of yourself for me. I want you to run a bath. You're going to get in and lie there. You're going to think about the last two months. Every single task. The ginger, the nettles, the toilet water on your face. You're going to let yourself get aroused by the memories, but you are not going to touch yourself. Your hands will stay on the edges of the tub. If your cunt aches and clenches around nothing, that's perfect. That's the feeling of being owned. I want you to lie there for thirty minutes, letting the water get cold.
Then you'll get out, dry off, and write me a detailed description of what was going through your head while you laid in that cooling water. Use that vivid teacher's vocabulary of yours. I want to feel the goosebumps. And tomorrow, if the report is good, we will start something new. Something that involves your car and a very public, but hidden, act of degradation.
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. This slut did exactly as you said. She is writing this with her hair still damp and her body still chilled.
She filled the tub with hot water. She laid back and the water covered her small tits, making the bruised skin ache even more. Her hands gripped the porcelain edges like you said.
Then she let her mind go back. She thought about kneeling on the bathroom floor, her hair soaked in her own stale piss, scrubbing the tiles. She could almost smell it again. She thought about the ginger plug and that deep, burning fire in her asshole. She thought about the nettles on her cunt and the clothespins biting down. She thought about you reading her reports. About your eyes on her words.
Her cunt started to pulse. She was on fire. She could feel her own wetness leaking out into the bathwater. She wanted so badly to just slide one finger down, just to feel how slick she was. Her hips started to rock involuntarily, seeking friction against the water itself. But she kept her hands on the edge. She gripped so hard her knuckles went white.
The water got colder. Her skin was covered in goosebumps. Her nipples were so hard and painful they felt like they were going to crack. And her cunt was just... aching. Empty and aching and clenching on nothing. She felt so incredibly vulnerable and exposed and owned. Like a specimen in a jar for you to observe. This slut is a horny little object.
When the thirty minutes were up, she wanted to throw herself on the floor and hump the bathmat, she was that desperate. But she didn't. She came straight here to write to you. She is so wet she can feel it slick between her thighs even after toweling off.
To: emmy_the_urinal
That was a beautiful report, Emmy. I could picture you there, a little Piss Slut with a burning cunt. That's exactly the state of mind I want you in. Desperate and obedient.
Now, for what I promised. This involves your car, and it involves the school parking lot after hours. You said you're often the last one there. Good.
Here is what I want you to do tomorrow, Friday, after everyone else has left for the weekend. The parking lot should be empty, but there's always a risk of a janitor or a late parent. That risk is part of the fun for an Outdoor Slut like you, isn't it?
- Drive your car to the farthest, most shadowed corner of the school parking lot. Back it in so you're facing out toward the empty field or whatever is back there.
- You will take your ball gag and your blindfold with you in your purse.
- You will strip completely naked inside your car. Fold your teacher clothes neatly on the passenger seat.
- Put the ball gag in your mouth. Strap it tight. Let the drool start.
- Put on the blindfold.
- You will then open the driver's side door. Just the door. You will not get out. You will swing your legs out so your bare feet are on the asphalt. Your cunt will be exposed to the open air of the parking lot, hidden only by the car door frame.
- You will piss right there on the edge of the driver's seat, letting it run down your legs and puddle on the asphalt under the car.
- Then, still blindfolded and gagged, you will masturbate. You have permission to touch your clit. But you will only do it with your piss-soaked fingers. You will edge three times for me, right there in the open doorway of your car, in the school parking lot, blind and drooling and covered in your own urine.
- Only after the third edge may you close the door, remove the blindfold and gag, and clean yourself up with whatever you have in the car (an old towel, tissues, your panties—I don't care).
- Then you will drive home.
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. This slut did it last night. She was going to write immediately, but she was so shaken and aroused that she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep afterward. She needed to process it. She is ready to tell you everything now.
Friday afternoon. She stayed late grading papers. She watched the last car leave the staff lot around 4:45 PM. The janitor's truck was still there, but he works on the opposite side of the building. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she gathered her purse and walked to her car. Inside her purse, the ball gag felt like a heavy secret.
She drove to the far corner as you instructed. It's bordered by a row of overgrown lilac bushes and then an empty field. She backed in. The sun was getting low, casting long shadows. She sat there for a moment, listening. A bird. The distant hum of a lawnmower somewhere in the neighborhood. Her own ragged breathing.
She took off her clothes. Piece by piece. Her blouse. Her skirt. Her bra—the fabric pulling slightly on those still-tender nipples. Her panties, which were already damp just from the anticipation. She folded them neatly on the passenger seat. She was naked in her own car, in the school parking lot. Her skin looked pale and vulnerable in the fading light.
She strapped the ball gag in. It's a red one, and it forces her jaw open wide. Immediately, saliva started to pool in her mouth. She put on the blindfold. The world went black. Her other senses sharpened instantly.
She pulled the handle and pushed the driver's door open. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet lot. She froze, listening. Nothing. Just the breeze rustling the lilac bushes. She swung her legs out. The asphalt was cool and slightly rough under her bare soles. The air hit her wet cunt and she gasped around the gag. She was so exposed. If anyone walked by, they would just see a pair of bare legs dangling from a car door, but if they came closer... if they came closer they would see everything.
She stood up and tried to relax her bladder. It took a moment because she was so tense. Then it came. A hot, light-yellow stream splashing out and running down the inside of her thigh, dripping onto the asphalt below with a soft patter. The smell rose up, sharp and warm. She was pissing in front of her own car, in her workplace parking lot. A thick strand of drool escaped the ball gag and hung down her chin.
Then she brought her hand down. Her fingers were wet with piss. She touched her clit. It was like an electric shock. She was so sensitive, so wet, so utterly degraded. She started to rub slow circles. The world was just blackness, the taste of rubber, the smell of her own urine, and the feeling of her fingers on her most private part, out in the open air.
She listened. A car drove past on the main road, maybe 100 meters away. Its tires hummed. They had no idea. She edged the first time quickly, her hips bucking against her hand, a muffled moan lost in the gag. She stopped, panting, her cunt throbbing. The second edge was harder to stop. Her body wanted to keep going, to just tip over. She pulled her hand away and gripped the seat, her knuckles white, her cunt clenching painfully around nothing. A low, desperate whine came from her throat. The third edge... she was crying behind the blindfold. Real tears mixing with the drool. She rubbed her clit until she was right there, teetering on the edge of a cliff, and then she snatched her hand away and slammed her thighs together. She sobbed into the gag.
She pulled off the blindfold. The twilight seemed blindingly bright. She sat back for a long minute, just shaking, her bare legs trembling, her feet in a puddle of her own piss. Then she dried her feet with a towel and pulled her legs in and closed the door. The silence of the car interior was deafening. She unstrapped the gag and a flood of drool poured down her chest. She looked down at herself. A naked, piss-soaked, crying, desperate whore in a car seat. She cleaned herself up. Her legs were weak when she finally drove home. This urinal is a horny little object.
To: emmy_the_urinal
That was a masterpiece, Slut. The image of you, blind and pissing in the school lot, is burned into my memory. You are a depraved work of art. I want you to take today to rest. Hydrate. Ice those tits again if they need it. You've earned a day of being just a regular teacher. Tomorrow, we begin again.
17.06.26 09:00 (From Old_Master_CA)
To: emmy_the_urinal
Slut, tonight I want to test your pain threshold again. Tonight, you will use the riding crop on your cunt. Not the tits this time. Your cunt. 25 hard strokes directly on the lips and clit. Count them out loud. After each one, say, "This cunt belongs to Master." Then edge once, with your fingers, feeling the sting of the crop as you rub. Do not cum. Report.
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. This slut is shaking. She did it. She laid on the bed, legs spread wide. She brought the crop down on her wet, swollen cunt. The first stroke was a line of fire. She cried out, "One. This cunt belongs to Master." By the tenth stroke, her cunt was on fire, the lips red and swollen. She was sobbing the words. By the twenty-fifth, she was just a quivering, weeping mess of pain and submission.
Then she touched her clit. It was so sensitive, so bruised, that even the lightest touch was agony and ecstasy. She rubbed to the edge quickly, the pain mixing with the pleasure until she couldn't tell them apart. She pulled away just as she was about to explode. Her cunt is throbbing, a deep, hot ache. It feels like it's been stung by a thousand nettles from the inside out. This slut is a horny little object, and her cunt is your property to hurt as you see fit. Thank you, Master.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Good morning, my desperate little slut. I've been reading your messages. Enjoying them.
Now, about that task that scares you. You mentioned your limits include "no involving others." I respect that. But this task involves the potential of involving others. The risk. The fear of being seen. That's different, isn't it? That's the thrill you get from being an Outdoor Slut.
Here it is. Next weekend, when you have time, I want you to go to a public park. A park with trees and paths, but also with some secluded spots. You will wear a long coat. Underneath, you will be completely naked. You will find a bench in a slightly secluded area of the park. You will sit down, open your coat just enough to expose your cunt to the open air, and you will edge yourself with your fingers while people walk their dogs and push strollers somewhere nearby. The risk of being caught is the point. The fear in your gut is the point.
Tell me your thoughts. And tell me about the vibrator situation. If you don't have one, we can focus on the manual aspect. But the idea of you sitting on a park bench, hidden only by a flasher's coat, touching your wet cunt while families enjoy their Saturday... that's what I want in my head. This isn't about making you dependent; this is about making you do something perverted because I want to see you do it.
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. This slut read your message at work and had to go to the bathroom to compose herself. Her face was flushed, her hands were shaking. The idea terrifies her. Absolutely terrifies her. And it also makes her cunt clench so hard she can barely breathe.
She doesn't have a remote vibrator. She has thought about buying one, but they're expensive and she was always too shy. She does have a small, cheap bullet vibe. It's quiet, but not silent. She could hold it in her hand under the coat. It would be obvious what she was doing if someone got close, but from a distance, maybe just a woman sitting on a bench with her hand in her pocket.
The thought of sitting there, exposed, in a public park... Master, this slut is scared. But she is also so desperate to do this for you, to show you what a perverted, nasty little plaything she can be. She wants to be that Outdoor Slut for you. The one who risks everything just because you're a sadist who enjoys watching her squirm. She wants to be sitting on that bench, her heart pounding, her cunt wet and open to the breeze, and know that she is doing it because you told her to.
This slut will do it. She will do it this Saturday, if the weather is good. She will find a park. She will wear her long grey trench coat and nothing else. She will take the bullet vibe and her own fingers. And she will edge herself for you, in public, with the taste of fear in her mouth.
This slut is a horny little object, and she craves to be used in this way. Thank you for pushing her.
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. This slut did it. She did it today. It's Saturday. The park was busy. She needs to tell you everything.
She wore the trench coat. Underneath, nothing but her own skin. The walk from her car to the park entrance felt like a mile. Every brush of the coat lining against her bare nipples made her gasp. They're still sensitive from everything we've done. She felt so naked, so vulnerable. There were families with children, couples walking hand-in-hand, old people feeding ducks. And there she was, a secret whore in a coat.
She found a bench near a small pond, partially hidden by a large willow tree. It wasn't completely secluded—she could still see the path about twenty meters away, and people walked by occasionally. She sat down. The wood was cool on her bare ass. She took a deep breath and undid the bottom buttons of the coat, just enough to part the fabric and expose her cunt to the air. The breeze was cool on her wetness. She was already dripping.
She took out the little bullet vibe and turned it on. The buzz was faint, but in the quiet of the park, it seemed so loud. She held it against her clit, hidden by her coat and her hand. The sensation was immediate and intense. She closed her eyes for a moment, just feeling it. Then she opened them and watched the path.
A woman jogged by with a stroller. She didn't even glance her way. Her heart was hammering. She pressed the vibe harder and felt the edge approaching. She pulled it away just in time, her hips giving a little involuntary jerk. A wave of heat washed over her. She was panting.
She did it twice more. Each time, the risk felt greater. An elderly man walked his dog and the dog veered toward her bench, sniffing. She froze, the vibe still buzzing against her thigh. The man called the dog back and apologized with a smile. He had no idea that she was sitting there with her cunt out, on the edge of orgasm. After he left, she let herself get to the edge a third time, her whole body trembling, tears pricking her eyes from the intensity of the denial. She wanted to cum so badly she could have screamed. But she didn't. She turned off the vibe, buttoned her coat, and sat there for ten minutes just shaking.
She felt so incredibly filthy. So used. She walked back to her car, her legs weak, her cunt aching and dripping down her thighs. This slut is home now. She still hasn't washed. She can smell herself—the sharp scent of her own desperate arousal. She is lying on her bed, writing this to you, and she feels like the most depraved, useful, wonderful Urinal in the world. This pain pig is a horny little object.
Thank you so much, for pushing her to this Sir.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Emmy. I am extremely proud of you. You faced your fear and you let me push you right to the edge of it—literally and figuratively. The image of you on that bench, exposed and trembling, while life went on around you... that's art. That's the kind of perverted suffering I enjoy inflicting from 5,000 miles away.
So here is your next week. I want you to continue the edging. Every single night. At least three edges. You may use your fingers, your toys, whatever you like, but you will not cum. I want you to go to work every day with that familiar ache between your legs, that wetness that never quite dries. I want you to think of yourself as a vessel that is constantly being filled with unspent lust. A horny little object on the verge of boiling over.
And to keep you connected to me physically, I want you to do one more thing. Tomorrow morning, before work, you will take a long piece of string. You will tie it tightly around the base of each of your small tits, making them bulge and turn red. You will leave it on for exactly fifteen minutes while you have your coffee. Then you will take it off and go to work. The ache from the binding will linger for hours. Every time you feel it, I want you to whisper, "Thank you, Master." Under your breath. In the classroom. In the hallway.
Let's see how desperate we can make you, Emmy. I'm enjoying this immensely.
To: Old_Master_CA
Master. It's been a week of this. A week of torturing her tits in the morning, a week of edging every night until she is sobbing into her pillow with frustration. Her body is a symphony of constant, low-level pain and overwhelming arousal. She wakes up wet. She goes to sleep wet. She dreams about you. She dreams about the park bench, the parking lot, the sting of nettles.
This slut loves it. She craves this. She is doing all of this because she wants to. Because the feeling of being your urinal, your pain pig, your throat whore… This slut is a horny little object who has found her purpose in being your plaything.
This slut wants more. She wants you to be meaner. More evil. She wants you to think of the nastiest, most humiliating things you can imagine, and then make her do them. Use her body and will for your own sadistic pleasure.
To: emmy_the_urinal
We're entering a new phase. You want meaner? You want nastier? Good. I'm a sadistic old man, and I have a vivid imagination. Month Four is going to be about deepening the filth. I want to get inside your head by making your body do things that would make a whore blush. Small things. Constant things. Things that make you feel like my piece of furniture even when you're standing in front of a class.
And because you've been such a good, needy slut, I'm giving you a reward. Tonight, after you edge for three times, I want you to go into your bathroom, kneel in the tub, and piss all over your own face and chest. Then, while you're still dripping with your own warm urine, I want you to say out loud: "Thank you, Master, for owning this Urinal." And then you may have one orgasm. Just one. Make it count. Tell me about it afterward.
You've earned this, Emmy. You're mine.
To: Old_Master_CA
Master, she did as you said tonight. She edged three times. By the third edge, she was a quivering mess, her sheets soaked with sweat and her own juices. Then she went to the bathroom. She knelt in the cold tub. She looked up at the showerhead and imagined you were standing over her. She let go. The piss was hot and it splashed against her face, into her open mouth, down her chin and over her small bound tits. She closed her eyes and let it soak her hair. She felt so beautiful in her filth.
She said the words. "Thank you, Master, for owning this Urinal." Her voice was thick with piss and emotion.
And then she touched her clit. It was so swollen and sensitive from a week of denial. It only took a few seconds. The orgasm crashed over her like a wave. She saw white. Her whole body convulsed in the tub, splashing in the puddle of her own piss. She screamed your name. It was the most intense, soul-shaking release she has ever felt in her life. It was a gift from you.
This slut is lying in bed now, still smelling of piss, her body limp and satisfied. For the first time in weeks, the desperate ache is quiet. But she knows it will come back. And she knows you'll be there to make it worse, and then better, and then worse again.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Good morning, my satisfied little Urinal. I'm glad you enjoyed your reward. You deserved it. But don't get too comfortable. That was a pressure release valve, not a new normal. The ache will be back by tonight, and I'll be here to cultivate it.
Month four... let's just say I've been reading about Scandinavian forests. And nettles. And I have some very creative, very nasty ideas about combining the two. Rest up, Emmy. You're going to need your strength. Because I'm going to be mean.
Your Master,
G.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: The Purpose of July
Good morning, slut. I hope you enjoyed that orgasm on the first. Don't get used to that feeling. That was a pressure release so you didn't boil over. Now we get back to work, and July is going to be a very long, very wet month for you.
I have been thinking about numbers. You like to suffer. You like to be denied. You like to be a dripping mess. You crave being pushed. So let's quantify that suffering. I am setting a target for the month of July. You will edge five hundred times before August 1st. That's roughly sixteen edges a day. Some days more, some days less, but the total by the end of the month will be 500. You will keep a written tally. You will report the running total to me every evening along with a description of your current state. And you will not have another orgasm until I say so. If you fail and accidentally cum, there will be consequences. Very painful ones involving nettles and the riding crop on your raw cunt.
This is not about breaking you, Emmy. You're too strong and self-aware for that. This is about giving you exactly what you want: to be turned into the most desperate, aching, piss-soaked piece of fuckmeat you can possibly be. I want you to go to work with your cunt so swollen and wet that you leave damp spots on your chair. I want you to be so constantly aroused that you can't think straight. And I want you to do it all because you love being this slut, and because I am a sadist who enjoys the image of you, thousands of miles away, squirming in your own filth for my amusement. Your health and well-being are my responsibility, which is why you will continue to hydrate and not do anything permanently damaging. But within those bounds, I will be evil.
First edge of the day. Right now. Before you even reply. Use your fingers. Tell me how it felt, and call yourself what you are.
To: Old_Master_CA
Subject: Re: The Purpose of July
Master. Five hundred. This slut read that number and her cunt clenched so hard it almost hurt. Five hundred edges. Her purpose for the entire month of July is just to edge and drip and ache for you. She is so grateful. This is what this urinal was made for. This slut is a horny little object, and you are giving this object a reason to exist.
She did the first edge right here at the kitchen table. Fingers pushed inside her wet cunt, rubbing that swollen clit until the wave started to build. She pulled her hand away just as her thighs started to shake. The denial hit like a punch in the gut. Her cunt is already leaking onto the wooden chair. A little clear puddle of whore juice. She is a dripping mess and she loves it. This slut loves that you are making her do this.
She is going to work soon. She will be thinking about edge number two all day. This slut will be a horny little object standing in front of a class of teenagers, pretending to be a normal person while her panties are soaked through.
Total edges: 1. Four hundred ninety-nine to go. Thank you for giving this pain pig a purpose, Master.
To: emmy_the_urinal
Subject: Nettle Hike
That's what I like to hear. A slut who knows her place and embraces it. I'm glad you're grateful. You should be. I'm giving you exactly what your twisted little body craves.
Now, I've been researching your local flora. Danish forests in July. Lots of nettles. Lots of secluded spots. I want you to find a place. A real forest, not just a park. Somewhere you can be alone. This weekend, you're going to take a hike. Naked under a long coat again. You'll find a patch of stinging nettles and you're going to lie down in them. On your back. You'll spread your legs and let those leaves sting your ass, your thighs, and especially that wet, needy cunt of yours. You'll lie there for fifteen minutes, just letting the burn sink in. Then you'll get up, put your coat back on, and drive home with your skin on fire.
I want a full report on that. And I want you to edge at least five times while you're lying in the nettles. That will count toward your total. Let the pain and the denial mix together. I want you to be a whimpering, stinging, desperate little animal by the time you get home. Because I want to imagine it.
How many edges are you at now, Pain Pig?
Tell me, what you think, if you want to read more, I had a lot of edges to perform and there are a lot more weeks of Emmys torture I produced
xoxo sarah