The Belle of the Ball

Continued from: The Cost of Admission

A Sarah Jane story

I arrived to the party like this:

When the party ended, I looked more like this: 

I was shackled up in the filthy urinal room, beside another piss-whore I recently became acquainted with, when a dominant man made me lick her asshole. My once-elegant gown was strewn carelessly aside and soaked in urine. The metallic tang of cum still lingered on my lips, mingling with the bitter taste of piss. There was smeared writing all over my naked body. Words like "whore", "pig", "filthy" and "anal slut". 

In that moment, the writing on my naked body could not have been more true, the room even smelled of poop a-little, having just been fucked in the bum by some random man. 

I had made it through all the degrading stations of the evening. After my toilet brush gag, came a toilet paper gag, while my dress was still pristine and outfit in-tact. 

I had to kneel beside the toilet in a powder room for a few hours, reduced to a human bathroom tissue dispenser!

After this, came the disgusting funnel-gag station!

It was definitely time to wrap this night up and find comfort in Daddy's arms, after a long, hot shower.

As I stepped beneath the warm showerhead, the torrent of water washed away the lingering remnants of piss and cum, restoring a semblance of cleanliness to my degraded body. But my mind seethed, still trapped in the turbulent waves of arousal and humiliation that seemed to feed off one another. 

My thoughts fixated on the memories of being pissed on then sodomized. My fingers danced with a life of their own, diddling my little clit to the memories, until I finally had to reach for the Hitachi. 

In record time, orgasm ripped through me like a seismic event, leaving my legs shaking in its aftermath. I dried off returned to my age regressed status. 

I squeezed into a baby pink onesie, the fabric soft against my skin. The pigtails felt silly, but I went with it, wanting to please Daddy. On all fours, I crawled into the living room where the trio of Daddy, Mistress Andrea and Summer were seated. I half-expected to walk in on some raging threesome of dick and pussy and tits, but they were quite literally watching a movie and eating popcorn. It was cute, Summer was dressed like a little girl too, and was sitting on both their laps like they were Mommy and Daddy. 

Speaking of cute. I felt cute again, not like the filthy piss-whore of my recent experience. I curled into my pet bed in the corner of the room and waited for someone to notice me and call me over.

Of course it was Daddy! His face lit up when he saw me, and he opened his arms. I scurried over, crawling into his lap like an obedient puppy. The other two watched with amusement, and for a minute, everything else melted away. I was Daddy's little girl again, seeking comfort and protection. But as Daddy stroked my hair and asked me how the party was, a spark of shame flickered to life. Last night's depravity replayed in my mind - the piss, the cocks, the toilets - and I felt a dark thrill knowing that Daddy didn't know the extent of my debasement. 

That secret knowledge was turning me on. Grinning mischievously, I wiggled against Daddy's leg, the three crotch-snaps of my onesie rubbing proactively against his pantleg. Mistress and Summer continued snuggling but watched-on with keen interest. "She looks like she wants more, Daddy," they stated in harmony, their voices tinged with sly innuendo. 

I blushed, nodding furtively as the truth spilled forth in a hushed admission. " I was a very, very bad girl tonight, Daddy."

He stood and paused the movie, his hands moving with purpose now. The telltale jingle of Daddy's belt buckle echoed through the room, followed by the unmistakable snap of the leather through jean-loops.

With a quiet sense of resignation, I draped myself across Daddy's lap, feeling the worn denim cradle my tummy, as my bottom was presented into the air. "This is for your own good, young lady," Daddy lectured, each word punctuated by another strike of his belt. Mistress Andrea and Summer just quietly watched my strapping, their faces aglow with mild amusement.

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Slumber Party

The Cost of Admission

Continued from: Across the Pond

Watersports aren't really my thing. I guess the same could be said for Russell, as he dropped off the elegantly-dressed, Sarah Jane on the night of the piss party. He was about to leave and just pick her up later, but since Summer and I were sitting this one out too, I offered a little "Netflix and chill". To which he graciously accepted. 

I was set to do the "opening ceremonies" for these golden Olympics and explain the cost of admission to the silly men. I can change into comfies later. I still had a job to do...

A Sarah Jane story 

After Mistress broke the news to the poor male attendees, they reluctantly began stripping naked, removing layer upon layer of fancy suits, silk ties and expensive shoes. With Cassandra involved, it came as no surprise to me that the men would not have a free ride during this party. Based on their gender alone, there was a cost of admission. 

As I stood in the piano lounge, sipping my drink and observing the surreal scene unfold, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of fascination. 

The naked, collared men paraded before Cassandra and Carley, attempting to muster sufficient arousal to pass the toilet roll test. Some succeeded, their impressive cocks granting them access to the unbridled hedonism that awaited. 

Others faltered, their inadequacies exposed for all to see. Tears flowed from some of them, as they tried to vigorously masturbate for Cassandra and Carley, who seemed rather aloof and more interested in each other, than the humiliation playing out before them. 

Even with the assistance of some visual aids, on the rack behind these raven-haired beauties, some of the poor men just didn't measure up, literally. 

With swift intervention, the girls produced chastity cages as the men reluctantly accepted, their evening reduced to a dull thud of frustration. I was intrigued by the psychology at play - the performance anxiety, the quest for validation, and the crushing defeat that followed failure. Leave it to Cassie to crawl right in there and completely mind-fuck these poor boys. 

With the men squared-away and now, some of them locked away, they returned to their suits and formal attire and began mingling about at the bar. I watched as Cassie and Carley slinked toward me and a few of the other women, circling us like sharks. 

I tried to force a brave face, but I knew what was in store for me tonight, as the butterflies kept reminding my with their sickening flutters. 

The two minions of degradation explained to the submissive guests, men and women alike, that we would be rotating through a variety of stations, each more humiliating than the last. I reached my elegant gloved hand into a silk top-hat, and trembled as I retrieved the little strip of paper that would determine my first, horrifying experience. 

T O L I E T  B R U S H

I ran my thumb across the paper, no larger than something you'd pull from a fortune cookie. The letters were typed neatly and clearly, leaving no room for misinterpretation but plenty of room for panic. I was almost relieved when I was fitted with the gag, part of me thought I would be made to clean the toilets with my tongue. 

The mouth-gag padlocked in place, adorned with its crude toilet brush appendage. I was led, docile and compliant, to the row of urinals, my high heels clicking against the marble floors. 

Kneeling before the porcelain receptacles in my gown, I peered up at Cassandra, her expression an unreadable mask of indifference. With a curt gesture, she indicated my task: clean the urinals with toilet brush gag...

As I was left alone to scrub the urinals, my gaze darted sideways, drawn to the sight of another woman, equally as elegant in her attire, yet appeared to be restrained between the porcelain fixtures. A man soon entered the washroom and yanked down the front her dress, causing her tits to flop free and bare. He began slapping them rhythmically and calling her a piss whore, as the open-mouth gag forced her lips wide.

The man directed a stream of hot piss into her mouth. His cock followed, sliding between the bars of her metal gag as her throat constricted in a futile attempt to swallow. The raw display of debasement and domination stirred something within me - revulsion mixed with arousal, a twisted paradox of wanting to take her place and dreading taking her place. 

My fingers trembled as I reached between my legs, to feel the throbbing of my own cunt as I slipped deeper into this abyss of humiliation. 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: The Belle of the Ball

Glitter and Gold

Continued from: A Rose by any other Name

We haven't seen or heard from Russ and Sarah Jane in awhile. I thought I would reach out in my own unique way. She wrote about that morning. Mistress Andrea xo

A Sarah Jane story

As I wandered into the kitchen, the morning sunlight dancing across the countertops, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. My little gingham dress, baby blue with ruffles and puffy sleeves, rustled with each tippy-toe movement, its childish charm a stark contrast to my age. White socks added a touch of innocence to my overall ensemble, while ringlet pigtails bounced with each step, framing my face with an air of sweetness. 

Clutched in my hand was a mysterious parcel, wrapped in golden paper and adorned with a silver bow. Alongside it, an envelope bearing the familiar crest of Mistress Andrea's "Facility". Daddy, engrossed in a book, looked up as I approached, curiosity etching lines on his face. "What's all that, baby girl?" he asked, his tone measured.

I flashed him a mischievous grin, tearing into the present to reveal a vision of elegance within. Gasps escaped my lips as I lifted out an exquisite evening gown in lavender silk, accompanied by opera gloves, sky-high heels, stockings and the most decadent pair of lace panties. A smile tugged at my lips as I read the details of the card.

"Daddy, I need to speak with you about something. May I use my big-girl words?" I ventured, trying to contain the excitement in my voice. "I received an invitation, Daddy...to...to a rather unique party." 

I held out my little hand, showing Daddy the choker that accompanied the elegant gown and accessories. 

"Tell me more, little one," he coaxed, his words dripping with concern and curiosity. I hesitated, unsure how to articulate the jumble of emotions swirling within me. But Daddy knew me too well, he sensed the thrill of humiliation coursing through my veins. 

"It's a golden shower party, Daddy," I finally confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "A night of being pissed on and horribly degraded..." I trailed off. 

As I awaited Daddy's response, my gaze drifted to my current attire - the adult woman, trapped in a sea of ruffles and pastels. How delightfully thrilling then, to envision myself transformed, adorned in the lavish finery contained in that box. Since Daddy hadn't said anything yet, I went for it...

"Daddy, may I wear the pretty dress to the party, and be pissed on by random men and women?"

When I crawled onto his lap to straddle him and start begging in a baby voice, he simply sighed and nodded in the affirmative. 

I bounced up and down on Daddy's lap, my pigtails flopping wildly as I squealed with excitement. The silly, childish gesture was a familiar comfort, one that never failed to bring a smile to Daddy's face. My little knee socks kicked out in joyful abandon and I snuggled in closer. 

In gratitude, I dropped to my knees, my face inches from his bulge. Without hesitation I reached for his waistband, freeing his erect cock from its confines. My lips parted, eager to shower him with affection, as I took him deep into my throat.

Before long, with a muffled groan, he surrendered to my mouth, spilling his cum into the back of my throat and into my tummy. I savoured every drop, a reward for my enthusiasm. I snapped to attention, my arms at my sides as I dipped into a dainty curtsy, an ingrained habit honed from countless sessions of submission. 

"Thank you, Daddy," I murmured, "for the gift of your cum and allowing me to attend the party." 

I stood before Daddy, quivering with excitement as he spoke. 

"And when the random men and women have finished relieving themselves on you and in you, will you be thanking them properly too?"

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment and shame as I nodded my head vigorously. The thought of those strangers' hot urine splashing against my body, cascading over my face and hair, was making me sickened with wonderful butterflies. 

"Yes, Daddy," I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of submission. "I'll thank every last one of them for pissing on me."

 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Across the Pond