“I think I just peed a little. Fuck.”  Horrified, I start peeling the blankets off the bed.

“That wasn’t pee, you just squirted a little, that’s all,” Mister laughs, moving out of my way.

“Yeah,” I grumble, stripping the bed. “I squirted piss all over the clean sheets.”

Mister sits down at his laptop, then motions me to come over. He plays a video clip of a woman squirting fluid into a forceful high arc. “Look, I can make you do that,” he says confidently. “It’s so fucking hot when a chick squirts. I think you’d love it.” We watch several more videos purely for scientific research before I agree to let him try it on me.

I cover the bed with a beach towel as a precaution. Mister sits on the bed and pushes my knees apart. “If it feels like you need to pee, just go with it,” he tells me. Without warning, he slaps my pussy hard with his open hand. It startles me, but I like it. My pussy instantly feels warm and tingly.

“Put some fingers in,” I suggest, suddenly wanting to be stuffed with cock.

“Nope, we’re doing it this way,” Mister says. “Brings the blood right to the surface, makes it more sensitive.”

Thwack. Mister smacks me again and again. I feel a pressure building, my cunt is already wet and waiting. “Stop holding back,” he says. Thwack. “Shit, I’m gonna pee,” I moan. Mister smacks me harder and faster. I try to hold it in. “Let it go,” he orders. I can’t. It feels like I have to piss and I just can’t bring myself to go there.

Mister brings his face close to mine and grabs a handful of my hair. “Listen slut, I told you to squirt. Do it.” He hits between my legs with his free hand. “Do it, let it go,” he hisses between clenched teeth. As he yanks my hair harder, the pressure in my pussy hits critical mass. My whole body feels like it’s teetering on a precipice. I don’t know how much longer I can hold it all in. “Now,” Mister roars.

“Fuck,” I cry out, then I just let go. The fluid gushes and gushes, I can’t control it. The release feels so good, like coming a hundred times at once. I collapse into a quivering heap, my legs won’t stop shaking.  Mister rubs his hand in the juice then smears it across my mouth. “Does this taste like piss to you?” he asks.

“Actually, no,” I answer, licking around my lips. “Huh.” I start to giggle, everything seems really funny and I don’t know why. I reach up and pull his face to meet mine. I give him a deep kiss flavored with my own juice. Mister gives me his best evil grin, then starts to smack against my clit again in a staccato rhythm. This time I squirt almost immediately. “Nice, you giggly little girl” he says. “Let’s have a little more.”

Mister gets out his little rubber flogger and starts flicking at my thighs. I gasp when he moves up to my pussy, the wetness makes it sting all the more. He concentrates the whip on my clit, and I start to buck. Mister doesn’t hold back, I see the muscles flex in his arm with each precise whack. I bring my cunt up to meet the whip with each stroke.

This time, I squirt into a high arc, just like the girl in the video. Mister doesn’t let up with the whip, letting it cut through the heavy stream. Juice lands everywhere, his arm, my face, the wall. We writhe around slippery and laughing, even my hair is completely soaked. We play until I can’t force out even a single drop. Mister brings me a big glass of water, tells me to drink it all so I don’t get dehydrated.  I curl up and promptly fall asleep, my thighs still twitching as I dream.