Dominatrix Fail

Another one of Brad’s wonderful drawings. I love these little presents.

So I’ve been peeing on people for cash pretty regularly now. I hold the sessions at a BDSM dungeon in Midtown, so as not to get pee all over my house. This past Monday I had a session with Brad, one of my regular clients, at 3pm. My sleep schedule is so ridiculous–I can never seem to get to bed before 5am, or wake up before 1pm–so I tend to schedule any appointments or important business meetings (lol) I have for mid to late afternoon, just to be safe.

So on Monday I set my alarm for noon, but idiot me didn’t wake up until 1:45 because I was in a coma and slept through it. Stupidly, I woke up and peed out of habit. I then realized I only had an hour before “showtime”, panicked and frantically chugged 2 liters of water. The problem, however, is that in preparation for a golden shower session I normally drink large amounts of water consistently for hours beforehand. I’d say I drink at least a gallon of liquid over the course of 2-3 hours. Still, I figured I would be OK to pee at 3pm. Maybe not as much as normal–I regularly impress myself which how much of the stuff I can make come out of me–but enough to satisfy Brad’s thirst for the time being.

But there was another problem. NYC has been sooo hot recently. It was 108º one day last week! And nearly 100º every day since. So it’s safe to say that on Monday morning, waking up in my sweat box apartment, I was pretty dehyg’d. I have since done some Google research, and found that the kidneys filter between 750mls and 1 liter of water every hour, so if you’re well hydrated and you drink half a liter of water, you should need to go in less than an hour. However if you’re dehydrated, your body isn’t going to throw out the water because it needs it. Duh.

I continued binge drinking on the subway ride to the dungeon, but by the time the session began–though I felt extremely full and surprisingly dizzy from my gross short-term water consumption–my bladder felt entirely empty. Still, I felt kind of OK about it, as I normally spend the first 15 minutes smacking Brad around anyway, and save the waterworks for the finale. I figured all that water I drank would be rushing to my bladder all at once sometime soon. So I made Brad get naked and lay on the floor, kicked him, shoved my foot down his throat, spit in his eyes, ears, nose and mouth, called him a slut, etc. He loved it. Fifteen minutes passed and I still felt totally empty, but I figured maybe if I hovered over his mouth for a bit and concentrated really hard I could make something come out. Nothing. So I stalled and told him he “had to wait a little longer before I made him suffer,” or something cheesy and embarrassing like that.

By the time there was only 5 minutes left and I’d yet to pee a single drop–I rent the room remember, so there are time constraints–Brad could tell there was something up. I felt like an epic failure, like I sucked at life. So I tried one last time to pee and concentrated really hard–I thought about faucets running, streams, lakes, oceans, all that shit–and finally I managed to get maybe half a cup worth of pee to come out. Brad lapped it up manically, as if they were the last drops of pee on earth. I felt like I could cry, ashamed of my own ineptness. Like, talk about the easiest job on earth. All I have to do is show up and pee, and I can’t even handle that!? #IHateMyself.

Despite being a let down, Brad still says he wants to see me again. He seemed to be vaguely understanding of my situation. Also, he asked if this winter I would consider blowing my snot into his mouth. I said of course, Brad, I would love to.

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