Brianna shudders and whimpers again. Yet she lifts up her head and holds it steady, offering her face to be bathed in my nectar. She still holds her lips clamped tightly closed, but this is acceptable for now. One step toward eternal toilet service at a time is fine. I squat down as close as I can get. Then with a thrill as great as any I get from beating or jerking or humping my slave I take a deep breath and let go, urinating directly into that dreadfully expectant face almost as forcefully and endlessly as I did the first time.
This baptism Brianna manages to take without retching. Nor does she attempt to turn away from it in the least. But when I finish she pants heavily again – she’s still holding her breath, enduring rather enjoying this obligation. For that she’s earned more tortur
