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She was deeply submissive and her instinct was to obey. But clearly, piss was a negative trigger for her. While he expected her to comply he didn’t want to traumatize her. Still, this blatant challenge to his authority couldn’t be allowed to stand.
“I’m not going to tell you again,” he said in a low, hard voice.
Would she obey? Or would she, finally, use her safeword?
To his relief, she turned slowly and crawled to the bathtub. Without meeting his gaze, she climbed in and positioned herself on her knees. After a brief hesitation, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth. Her hands clenched into fists on her thighs.
“Stick out your tongue,” he ordered.
She did so, eyes now squeezed tightly shut.
Pulling down his pants, he gripped his shaft. “Open your eyes.”
Drawing in a tremulous breath, she did so. There was no underlay of lust in her expression, no overlay of submissive acceptance. There was only dread.
But she didn’t flinch or look away. She kept her mouth open, her tongue offered. Moving closer, he aimed his cock at her face. A small whimper escaped her lips, but she held her position.
Damon lowered his cock and pissed on her breasts and her thighs in a long, steady stream. The relief on Ellen’s face was almost comical. To her credit, she kept her mouth open the entire time.
When he was done, he tucked himself back into his pants and smiled at her.
“That wasn’t so horrible, was it?”
Her expression said otherwise, but with her words, she said, “No, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
“You’re welcome, slut.”
He let his lip curl into a sneer as he made a show of looking her up and down. “You’re disgusting, covered in piss and dried jizz. Do you need to use the toilet?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, hold it. I said no furniture today, and that includes toilets.”
Moving to the linen closet, he opened it and took something out. From where she still knelt in the tub, she couldn’t see what it was. “Clean yourself off and then report to the living room.” He headed for the door, but then turned back. “Oh, and you might want to put on some socks.”
Chapter 19
Ellen came into the living room wearing nothing but her socks and the dog collar, her mind buzzing anxiously. The last time he’d had her put on socks, he’d taken her down into town. She wasn’t sure she could hold it for that long. Her bladder was painfully full and to make matters worse, she had to poop.
Master Damon was, as usual, on his laptop. He’d changed into jeans and a long-sleeved Henley that hugged his biceps and muscular chest. The first couple of buttons were undone, revealing a few curls of sexy, dark hair.
He looked up as she approached, shut the lid of his computer and set it aside. As he got to his feet, he picked up the leash, which he must have retrieved from the playroom while she was washing up.
Moving to her, he clipped it onto the dog collar. “I thought about putting down newspaper but decided to save it for kindling. You’ll do your business outside, just like a dog.”
It took Ellen a moment to switch gears. “Outside?” she squeaked. Was he serious?
“Is there an echo in here?” He tugged her leash, leading her to the front door.
A roll of toilet paper sat beside her sneakers. That’s what he must have taken from the linen closet. There was also a plastic grocery bag. “Go on,” he said, dropping the cold links of the leash against her bare back. “Put on your sneakers.”
Ellen slipped her feet into her sneakers as she tried to tell herself this wouldn’t be so bad. She had been naked before while outside at The Enclave compound, which was completely private. But it hadn’t been the dead of winter and no one had required her to relieve herself.
Yes, it would be freezing out there, but she’d be quick. Though it would be challenging, not to mention embarrassing, to have to squat and pee while Master Damon looked on. Maybe he’d let her go by herself.
No such luck. While she was tying her laces, he pulled on his boots. When he took down his jacket from its peg, she reached for her coat. It would be tricky to pee with it on, but she’d be careful.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he said, slapping her hand away. He bent down to grab the roll of toilet paper and the plastic bag. Then he picked up the end of her leash. “Dirty sluts and squatting dogs don’t wear coats.”
