Spit or Swallow.

She used to piss in my mouth. She told me specifically not to swallow, just kneel on the floor, tilt my head backwards, and let it fill up in my mouth. Let it flow out when my mouth fills up, trickle down my chin, let it get in my eyes and hair, drench my chest. Then she'd make me hold what was left in my mouth, crawl to the toilet and slowly spray it into the bowl. I had to make a little ring with my lips, like one does when they whistle, and then push it out slowly. At the pace one might actually piss. I'd be a lot less familiar with the taste, if she'd just made me swallow. I don't like the taste of piss, I really don't, it does not taste good. It doesn't even taste good in the way that cocks, cunts and assholes taste good. I wouldn't eat a cunt for dinner, but it's still a pleasure to have the taste of one on my tongue. It's not a pleasure to have the taste of piss on my tongue, but there is something appealing about it nonetheless. Perhaps it's the feeling of being used to carry waste. Regardless, I always found myself wishing, she'd just let me swallow. If only because it would have made me feel more useful. 

The only time she ever let me swallow was when we were out together. When we were out she would mostly ignore me. We went out together, but once we got to where we were going, whether that was brunch or a movie, the moment we got there, she'd throw her bag at me and dart in the direction of the people we were meeting. It was always her friends, and they cared for me as little as she did. I wondered if it was because of how I looked, at least in comparison to them. I wouldn't say I am ugly, but it takes some effort for me to be beautiful, and even then, I am beautiful only at first glance, when you start really looking, I look strongly okay. That was always fine by me, I don't care so much about being hot, nor really about adding aesthetic value to a relationship. I bring something else. It's was just always a curiosity that her friends seemed to have no interest in me as a human being, at all. I sometimes thought they believed me to be her servant or assistant. The only time they ever talked to me was if they wanted me to bring them water or order them a drink. It made most sense that she told me I was her assistant, but I never asked, she didn't encourage questions. I just sat there, when we went out, waiting for the moment when she would need me. 

She needed me when she had to pee. She'd look at me and snap her fingers, and I got up and followed her to the facilities. When we were out, she let me swallow. She insisted on it, actually. She insisted that I spill nothing and I get every last drop. She'd lean back on the toilet, and I'd get on my knees in front of her, I'd put my mouth around her entire cunt. Spread wide like one of those fountains that had open-mouthed fish on the top of the structure. She was considerate enough to go slow, well, slow enough that it would actually possible not to spill very much, but it did always spill at least a little. I think people underestimate how difficult it is to perfectly and neatly swallow a liquid that enters your mouth at an unpredictable pace and quantity you did not control. It's not quite like drinking water, even when you discount the factor of the taste. I liked it though. I liked it when she let me swallow, it made me feel like I was useful to her in some way. 

One night we were to go out for drinks with her friends. She looked amazing that night. She was wearing a silver dress. I am always in awe of people who have the confidence to wear jewelled-tones, but I just have no explanation for people who look good in them. When I saw her that evening, I couldn't stop gawking for a while. I had picked up the dress from the store myself, she'd had to leave it there for an alternation. I hung it up for her. I put it out for her to wear. Still, on its own, it had no charm to me whatsoever. I thought nothing of it and with all the cuts and straps, I wasn't even sure how it would go on a person. The moment I saw her though, my mouth went completely dry and I stopped hearing all the words coming out of her mouth. All I could do was stare at her and the moment she started walking in my direction, an incoherent babble escaped my mouth. She seemed unsurprised at my reaction. She sat on the big armchair in the living room and I took her shoes to her to put them on. As I put them I couldn't help but kiss her feet and those soft legs. 

When I got no resistance from her I did the same with her other foot, moving my face up higher with every few seconds until I was kissing her thighs. She put her hand on my head and started guiding me between her legs, but the moment I reached over to her panties, she swatted my hands away. Surprised, I had even gotten that far I didn't mind, I just licked her through the lace. It was almost sheer and not very abundant in terms of fabric anyway. She put her legs up around my neck and moved her panties aside with her fingers. She held my head in place and started to rub herself against my lips. She used to do that. She didn't like it when I licked and sucked on her, she liked to hold me still and get herself off against my face. She said it reminded her of the pillow she had her first orgasm on, and I was happy to be a pillow, if it meant she would rub against my face. After she had her orgasm she kicked me away immediately, and stood up. From the ground she looked even more magnificent. Her breasts always were a wonder to me. I don't know how they always stayed up like that. Mine don't do that. They never did, not even when I was young and shiny, but hers stay exactly where she put them. 

She told me to stand up and follow her. We got into her car, and she gave the driver directions for where to go. It seemed odd, they weren't directions to any bar I knew, but I didn't think too much of it. Mostly because the moment he started driving off, she pulled both my legs up to the seat and started rubbing my cunt. She had a very gentle touch and it was never intended to lead anywhere, only to tease and torment. I knew the driver could see me in the rearview mirror but she had done much worse things to me in plain sight of many more people. Hell, she had done much worse things to me in that car, in front of the same guy before. She didn't think about me as a person with the same dignity as she had, she didn't have to. I wasn't given to her with any of those conditions. If she wanted, really, she could have me walk down the street naked. Her entire world was removed from reality completely. In her world spending a month's rent on a dress you wore once was okay, lifting my skirt in a car in front of a stranger was okay, ordering people about for every thing was okay. She was baffled by things that would alarm people, like the one time I was out and she couldn't figure out who would put on her shoes for her. 

Her husband, the man who found and gave me to her, lived and did business in my country. He's a very rich man there and while he visits home sometimes, it isn't so frequent that he can really satisfy her in any way, or really have a real marriage with her, and even if he could, I don't think that is what she wanted. I don't even know if that is what he wants, back home he used to cohort with many prostitutes, and that's how we met in the first place. He hired three of us to fuck each other, and him. He liked that I seemed to enjoy being smacked around and going down on women. I do and so he proposed to me that he buy me for his wife. He gave me to her for her twenty-fifth birthday and she kept me for a year. That is what he paid for, and for me it was a great deal because that payment put me through college, got me an apartment, a car and out of my country. For her, I don't know, she was always cold and we never really spoke to each other. She just did whatever she wanted to me, and I let her. That was the arrangement. 

She played with my pussy in the car, rubbing and slapping, and after a point I forgot about the driver and started to moan in response to her touches. She giggled whenever I moaned, as if she knew she had done something naughty, or was going to.  As we turned into a clearly residential neighborhood, her hand retreated from my cunt. 

"Tonight we go to a different kind of party," she spoke with a slight accent that I could never place. 

I wondered what that meant but I just nodded my head and waited for her to tell me that I could shut my legs. She didn't. She just let me sit there like that with my cunt on display through the rest of the ride. As soon as we arrived, she pushed me to get the door for her, I was going to do it anyway, but the driver beat me to it. We made eye-contact for a moment after his hand met mine at the handle. It felt like he was still looking at my pussy. When she stepped out he must have still been staring at me. 

"You want to fuck her?" She asked him, emphasizing the F the way she usually did, "I would let you fuck her." 

It was the first time in all those months that I actually thought she may be crazy. Until then it had only ever been her, she had been the only person to use and touch my body. While the agreement didn't preclude other people, it hadn't actually been discussed. 

"I'd like to fuck her, yeah," the driver said to her, avoiding my gaze entirely. 

"Park the car," she said to him, "I'll set her up in the lawn." 

I walked behind her as she walked through the drive way and into the lawn. I asked her if she was serious but she said nothing until we reached the lawn. I told her I wasn't sure I wanted to do that, and she swatted my lip without so much as turning back to look at me. 

"Get on your hands and knees," she said to me, "Right here is fine, I would take you inside but you know.. servants fuck in the lawn." 

I protested once again, and hoped that she might just be terrorising me in her usual overly-callous manner. 

"What is the problem?" She asked, mildly annoyed, "I told you this is a different kind of party. You get fucked here. You are prostitute, you fucked many people, no? What's one more?" 

I mean, she had a point when she put it like that. 

"Are you going to watch?" I asked her. 

"No, I don't watch servants fuck," she said lifting my skirt up to reveal my pussy again, "You ring the doorbell when he finishes and then my friends can fuck you too." 

As she walked away, he arrived, they spoke quietly a few meters away from me. I closed my eyes and then opened them. Then I closed them again. I did it so many times I entered a dream-like state. He walked to me and I focused on his shoes. I wouldn't look at anything else. He said something to me, but I didn't hear him at all, I wondered what would happen if someone else arrived at the party and saw me like that in the lawn. Getting fucked by just some man. I closed my eyes again. When I opened them, his cock was in my face. I sucked it quickly and without finesse but it didn't take much for him to get hard. He stepped away from my face and knelt on the ground behind me. In front of me, a group of people arrived, I recognised some of her friends, and based on their pointing, they recognised me too. I kept my eyes open, I don't know why, and I felt like I was moaning to the tune of his thrusts, right in their direction. They went inside, and he continued. When he finished, he just got up and walked away. I stayed there for a few minutes, and then I stood up. I walked to the doorway, wondering what kind of party they were having inside. 

I rang the doorbell. 

The woman who answered the door was naked. I was surprised and immediately looked away, she ushered me inside and I followed her round ass to the living room. She was there, sitting on the couch, sipping out of a wine glass. I walked to her. 

"You get fucked good?" She asked. 

I nodded my head and avoided her gaze. She stood up and snapped her fingers at me. I followed her down the hall and into the bathroom. When we entered it was just us, but immediately behind her, a couple of people followed. She didn't pay any attention to them and started to remove my clothes. It was confusing. Usually, when we went to the bathroom, she pissed in my mouth. 

"You don't have to pee?" I asked her, hoping really, that would be the end of the evening. 

"Not yet," she said, "But today, everyone pee on you." 

She pushed me onto the toilet and told me to lean back, put my legs up on the wall and my face upwards, right over the bowl. It was an uncomfortable position, but one of those uncomfortable positions you can get used to. The bottom of my hair felt wet and a little part of me wanted to die right there. She spread my legs and put a gag in my mouth that held it open despite my most fervent attempts to bite down on it. I was sure I would choke on piss in that position. 

"Everyone had to bring something for the party," she said stroking my cunt again, "I bring urinal." 

She really was an awful person, and I may have loved her. She rubbed my pussy for a few minutes, and then decided she wanted to rejoin the party. The women behind her were adjusting their make up in the mirror. She walked to them and said hello. One of them looked at me from the mirror and I wondered how I must have looked to her then. 

"Do any of you ladies want to pee?" She asked them, pointing to me. 

They giggled amongst themselves. She waved to me, walking out of the door with a twinkle in her eye. 

It really was a different kind of party. It taught me I never should have wished to swallow, instead of spitting.