An Auzi expat in Shanghai, with intense pee fetish, contacted me online and promptly booked a session. For him, I create the custom pee challenge detailed below.
For the past 12 hours, I've been capturing every drop of my dominance in five numbered plastic bottles, each labeled only with a time:
#1: 8:00 AM — First morning void. Pale, mild, almost sweet. Deceptively gentle.
#2: 10:00 AM — Post-coffee. Sharper, more bitter. The caffeine bite lingers.
#3: 11:00 AM — Mid-morning, concentrated. Darker gold. Strong ammonia kick.
#4: 11:30 AM — After a protein shake. Thick, musky, almost creamy in texture.
#5: 12:00 PM — Final release before the game. Hot, fresh, and foaming — straight from the tap.
I shook each bottle, watched the bubbles cling to the plastic, and poured them into five crystal shot glasses lined up on a silver tray. They glow under the spotlight like liquid topaz — #1 nearly clear, #5 a deep, angry amber. The tray sits on a low table in front of you. You can smell them already, can’t you? That sharp, humid wave rolling over your face like a dingo’s breath.
THE RULES (Non-Negotiable)You will crawl forward on all fours, snout to the ground, until your lips hover one inch from each glass.
You may sniff, inhale, whine, or beg — but no touching with hands.
For each glass, you will guess the exact hour it was collected.
Correct guess? You get to swallow it like communion wine, then lick the glass clean while thanking me in your thickest Strine accent: “Thank ya, Sir, for yer sacred morning brew.”
Wrong guess? I tip the glass over your head. Warm rivers run through your hair, down your back, pooling in the cleft of your arse. Then you lap it off the floor like the thirsty roo you are.
Bonus Rule: If you get all five wrong, I refill #5 live — standing over you, legs spread, pissing directly into your open mouth while you recite the Australian national anthem backwards. Miss a word? Start over.
THE PSYCHOLOGICAL TWIST (Mindfuck Layer)Before we begin, I lean down and whisper:
“You’ll think you can tell by color, pet. But I’ve been altering my hydration all morning. Drank 2 liters of water at 9 AM… then nothing. Had a flat white at 10… then a Red Bull at 11:15. Your tongue’s gonna lie to you. And every time it does, I win.”
THE GRAND FINALE
If you get 3 or more correct (unlikely), I let you jerk off into an empty bottle — but you must catch every spurt. Then I mix your cum with my leftover piss and make you drink it through a straw.
If you fail (and you will), I zip-tie your hands behind your back, plug your arse with a funnel, and refill you from the inside — slow drip, one bottle at a time, while you moan “Waltzing Matilda” in a piss-soaked falsetto.