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This is a brief piece of fiction. These parts were written by E. E. Norcod to finish off the story that 'n' began. The Rev. Norcod wrote the following chapters using first person singular, past tense which he is far more comfortable writing in than the first person singular present tense that 'n' preferred.
Part Three
The Pot
As his eyes fondled me he asked "Did you prepare yourself as I instructed in my e-mail?" His eyes focused themselves on my pubic area and I felt it was superfluous to point out to him that I had depilated my pudendum. "Before I came I bathed. I administered an enema to my self. I evacuated my bowels" I replied. He grunted and commanded "Bend over, spread your feet thirty inches apart and grab your ankles." I dreaded what I suspected was coming but I complied. I knew that I was making obvious my state of sexual arousal but I didn't know what else to do. I was no longer in control of the situation and was helpless before his overwhelming animal brutality. He squatted behind me and spread the cheeks of my red tender buttocks with his thick fingers. OH SHIT he could see everything. As my humiliation deepened, my arousal increased. As he ran his horny right forefinger over my dripping labia he remarked "Hot little bitch aren't you". I whimpered softly "Please, please don't hurt me". He moved his finger over to stroke the inner aspect of first my left and then my right thighs saying "Pussy, pussy, pussy, hot little pussy." I gagged as he spread the drippings uniformly over the skin right down to the stocking tops. I would have thrown up but I had wisely foregone supper. Then he started running his finger up and down across my privates starting at the top of my slit and going all the way down to my anus, spreading my arousal goo from one end to the other. "Nice, nice, nice bitch" he muttered. Deeper and deeper he probed each time he went from top to butt hole. My arousal was becoming unbearable and my knees started to shake. It must have been the fourth or fifth time around before he actually began entering my vaginal cavity proper with his finger. And then he pulled it out and forced in into my anal ring. Not really past it but just into it. Boy was he taking his time in fondling me. He could see that my sexual arousal was becoming so extreme that I was on the edge of an orgasm. My knees were shaking so much I could hardly maintain my bent over posture and was in danger of falling over. Then he stopped and I wanted to scream. He off-handedly remarked, "Bitch did a good job of shaving her pussy. Not even any hair around her asshole. Good little pussy."
"OK you slant-eyed bitch," he insulted. "Squat on the pot over there and piss." He pointed to a blue enamel twenty quart cooking pot with a matching lid in the corner of the room. I went over to it, facing into the corner and removed the lid. "Stop bitch. Turn around. Face outwards." he instructed. I knew that resistance was futile and complied. Then the strangest thing happened. I hadn't urinated since leaving my dorm room and my bladder was full, but when I squatted I couldn't pee. Whether it was the humiliation and embarrassment or whether I was paralyzed by fear I don't know. But I couldn't go. I just squatted there and tried to let go but couldn't. I rested my thighs on the edges of the pot and balanced precariously there but I couldn't relax enough to urinate. He picked up his switch off the desk and sauntered over, flicking it back and forth ominously. He began to rub it oh so lightly over my back. Again I found this paradoxically arousing. Then he used the switch to tickle my sides. I began to giggle and all at once I started to urinate. And I peed and I peed and I peed. And the more I peed, the more embarrassed I became, turning from mere red-faced to absolutely crimson.
When I was done emptying my bladder I looked around for something to wipe the last few drops of urine off my perineum with. He saw me and commanded "Use your hand, that right, wipe your pussy with your right hand. Good bitch. Now put your wet fingers in your mouth and lick them clean." Despairingly, I did as he commanded. I had no choice. While still squatting I put my first three fingers in my mouth and sucked. And gagged. I fell forward onto my forearms and retched. Nothing would come up. I had the dry heaves. But with elbows next to knees and face to the floor I tried to throw up. Nothing, not even mucous. The bastard laughed and swatted my behind smartly with his switch. "I didn't give you permission to puke, did I bitch. Cover up your piss pot and get up." Still beet red in the face, I did as he commanded. He certainly understood how to inflict maximal embarrassment and humiliation.
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