They took me to the valley, where the river meanders and snakes. Because, they said, I was going to be baptised. The Femdom way. I asked for a snorkel, but one of the Ladies grabbed me by the throat and I gargled instead. We stepped into the cold water and they grabbed my arms and with hands on top of my head, pushed me under water. They held me there till dusk (it seemed) and I finally emerged like the Loch Ness monster itself, gasping for air and crying out in a panic of fear. Up and down it went, with ridiculously short ‘ups’ and frighteningly long ‘downs.’ In the end I was nothing more than a breathing corps, no kidding. But then, after swallowing a pool or two, they had enough and I washed ashore like a piece of human wreckage. I was still struggling to get my breath and I asked if I could have some water. “He’s such a great sport,” they said. And dragged me back to the river.
Let’s have a Pee-On-The-Rocks first, shall we. Now, this here is the bar, in here the customers drink and socialise. As you can see, there are three separate rooms at the far end of the bar. The room on the left is called The Flood, because the Ladies in there sprinkle all over the place. Yesterday a guy went in there wearing flippers, I swear to God it’s true. The leading Lady of that room is Mistress Bessy. Hence the saying: if you want it messy, ask for Bessy. The room in the middle is called Super Bowl, because the Ladies in there will pee in buckets, bottles, bowls and what not. It’s all done on the spot, fresh as fresh can be. The room on the right is called Perrier Parlour, because in there they’ll stuff a funnel down your throat and force you to drink it till the last drop. You see my friend, you and I take a leak. Ladies don’t. They Grand Cru. Some links: Piss Domination, Pissing-Austria, NeedaPee.