disclaimer: topics mentioned include water torture/drowning, bathroom control, in case that's not your cup of tea.

I’ve been chatting with a Dominant/Sadist [23M] lately. We’ve had one scene together so far and hope to have some more.

He’s been getting me horny throughout the day. We were talking about our last scene, and he was bringing up things he wanted to do to me next time.

Somehow, I revealed that I am terrified of drowning, from a childhood incident, but being drowned or water boarded intrigued me, and I was willing to try it, despite the risks of me having a panic attack over it.

He said drowning me in a toilet would be even more humiliating. And I agreed. He told me of course I would have to clean the toilet first, with my tongue. Then, get on all fours in front of the toilet, and beg for him to drown me.

He told me how he would hold me under as long as he wanted, until he decided I’ve had enough.

I felt my cunt starting to get wet just talking about this.

He continued to tell me how he would drown me multiple times, eventually raping my ass while continuing to plunge my head in and out of the water.

He told me he wanted to turn my mind to mush, make me glassy eyed and terrified.

My clit was throbbing. Fuck. This turns me on so much. Even though I’m so terrified of actually being drowned in a toilet, I find it absolutely degrading and humiliating and that alone makes me start to drip.

Being afraid turns me on so intensely. The fear just awakens my clit and pussy and makes me feel so needy, so desperate to be fucked.

But I also felt another sensation. My bladder. It was getting to the point that I needed to make a bathroom trip. But if I did that, I would wash away all my pussy juices and no longer be wet.

So I complained to him about this.

“Well, maybe you should hold it. Let’s have some fun with that bladder.”

Here we go.

I’ve done bathroom control with one other person before, and I find it extremely enjoyable. Feeling my bladder get fuller and fuller, being told to drink more, begging to relieve myself like a dog. I feel so degraded having to beg for permission for such a basic human function. And I enjoy degradation so much, especially in this way. Being made to feel like an animal, who can only use the bathroom when I’m allowed, having to hold it in so I don’t have an accident, being told to keep drinking, all of it, is such a fucking turn on.

I complain about my bladder again.

“You’ll have to wait until I allow you to go. You’ll just have to hold it.”

There’s a huge water bottle right next to me. I constantly drink water throughout the day.

I complain that despite having a full bladder, I’m still very thirsty.

“Take a few big gulps for me then.”

The ice cold water flows through the straw, filling my stomach with a chilling sensation, before it seems to immediately head straight to my bladder, making it feel even fuller.

“I wonder how long you can hold it? 10 minutes, 20 minutes, 30 minutes? “

I whimpered a bit.

“No, you’re going to hold it for as long as I say to.”

I tell him how much is left in my bottle.

1500 ml.

It holds 2200, and I just filled it up not too long ago.

“Well, you’re not getting up from that seat until it’s at 700”

Fuck. That means I have to drink 800 more ml of water. My bladder is already so full.

“You better hurry up if you want to pee.”

I start taking gulps of water, putting more pressure on my bladder with every second.

Surely, I’ve made some progress, right?

I look at the bottle.

It’s halfway between 1500 and 1250.

So, basically no progress.

“You better drink some more”

I gulp down some more, trying to ignore my bladder and focus on how cool and refreshing the water is.

Every drop of water goes instantly to my bladder, increasing the pressure more and more.

I’m at 1000 now.

Drinking all this cold water has made me start to shake. My arms and legs are trembling a bit, which definitely does not help my full bladder. I’m more aware of it by the second, barely able to distract myself at all.

Then, I tell him, the marking goes from 1000 to 750 to 500. There’s not a 700 marker.

“Well, I guess you’re going to have to drink to 500 then”

Fuck. I keep drinking more water, getting more and more squirmy and shaky from the cold temperature.

I take a long chug of water, wanting so desperately to make sure I drink enough this time.

It’s at 350 now.

Now I’m just holding, until he tells me I can go.

After a few minutes, he tells me to go to the bathroom strip down completely, and edge myself to a porn video he links to me.

I tell him I may need to use the basement bathroom for this, as I don’t want to occupy the main bathroom for too long.

I ask him how long the video is.

“It’s only 7 minutes, I’m not a monster”

I tell him this is definitely more appropriate to be done in the dirty basement bathroom, and he agrees.

I walk down to the basement, the scents of marijuana, cat urine, mildew and mold invading my nostrils.

It’s so disgusting down here.

And I am so disgusting.

I definitely belong down here.

He tells me when the video ends I am to continue edging myself while I urinate.

I close the door and strip down.

The bathroom has a hard, cold concrete floor. There’s a non working shower stall, rusty and grimy. The toilet is mostly clean looking, but even closing the door to the bathroom doesn’t do anything to prevent the stench from invading the tiny room.

I tell him I’m ready to start.

“Good, you’re naked, edging, and desperate to piss in that filthy bathroom. It’s only fitting for a pathetic cunt like you”

Pathetic.

Fuck.

That word makes me so turned on, so wet, instantly. I felt myself getting wetter.

I sit on the toilet, put the video on, and start rubbing my clit.

I’m so fucking wet.

As I get further into the video, getting myself close to orgasm distracts me from my full bladder.

I keep rubbing my clit.

It’s so disgusting down here, but that only makes me wetter.

I’m not allowed to orgasm though, so I have to continue edging, through the whole video.

Then, it’s over.

But I have to keep edging while I pee.

I continue rubbing my clit and allow my bladder muscles to relax, the sound of urine filling the toilet bowl.

I feel like I’m urinating forever. So much comes out.

I feel so relieved.

I tell him I’ve completed the task and ask for permission to get dressed and leave.

It’s granted.

I thank him for allowing me to urinate.

I send him a picture of the filthy bathroom so he knows exactly where I edged myself.

“It looks like exactly the bathroom you deserve to be used in. That’s the kind of toilet you need to be drowned in”

Fuck, I feel myself getting wetter just from him saying that.

Now all I want to know is what being drowned in a toilet would feel like.

How forceful would his hand be, how much would I struggle, would I cry, would I give up easily or keep fighting in a useless attempt to get free? How long would he keep me submerged? Would he flush the toilet while drowning me? Would I like it and enjoy it or would I hope for it to stop?

All these questions swirling around my brain, making me even more curious to experience it.

“You’re going to have to pee again soon, you drank so much water,” he teases.

“Do I need to ask permission again to urinate?”

“No, but you are only to use this bathroom from now on. Whenever you need the toilet, this is the one you are to use”

I tell him I’m grateful that he is allowing me to continue to use a toilet.

I’m currently staying at a family members house.

“You better understand that this is out of respect for your family, and not you, fuckhole”

“Yes sir, I understand.”

And that was two days ago.

Since then, I’ve been using that bathroom everytime I need to toilet.

But I can only use it when my family members aren’t around.

They would question me going to that toilet, especially if the other one is free.

And I am too embarrassed to admit to them what I’ve been ordered to do.

So my bathroom trips are far less and more controlled.

A few hours later, I’m desperate to pee again.

I head down to the basement once more, the scents seeping into my nostrils.

It’s fucking disgusting down here.

I’m right where I belong.

I fantasize about being fucked on the concrete floor, my ass being brutalized while I’m on all fours, like a dog.

My head being pushed under the bit of water in the toilet bowl, being held down as the toilet flushes and sprays my face and hair.

Being chained up in the bathroom, a leash being tied around the grab bars, and being left in there until he wants to use me.

Having to use my tongue to clean the floor and the toilet, on my hands and knees, crawling to lick every inch.

In addition to the musty smells, the cat urine, and the marijuana smells, the bathroom itself also smells rusty and earthy. And that smell stuck with me after I finished urinating and left the basement. I caught a whiff of it every once in a while and was reminded of where the scent came from.

Reminded of how I can’t even use a clean bathroom, I’m using the dirty, filthy bathroom instead, because that’s what I deserve.

Then later, I have to go again. I can only go to the bathroom if my family members are asleep or out of the house. I have to plan my bathroom trips around their schedules. Like a dog, I am not allowed to just freely use the bathroom whenever I want.

But right now, everyone is asleep.

Back down into the basement.

I feel like such an animal.

Having to relieve myself in such a smelly, dirty place.

I feel so dehumanized.

He asks me to describe the smells to him.

I do, and also explain that there’s a carpeted area of the basement that also has a terrible smell.

“One of these days, you are going to edge yourself while your face is buried in that disgusting carpet”

That thought makes my clit start throbbing, hoping for any sort of attention. My cunt is so needy.

“No touching tonight” he orders me, as I feel my wet pussy getting needier with those words.

“Actually, if you want to play with your needy cunt, you will have to do it with your face buried in that carpet. I won’t force you to do it, you’ll either do it out of desperation or just stay needy”

My clit pulses with the possibility of being touched.

I’m getting wetter and wetter.

But how desperate am I?