The bowl was empty, and the taste still lingered.
Amber didn't say a word as she walked over, took a wet wipe, and wiped the corners of my mouth clean like I was a messy toddler who had just finished a treat. She clipped the leash back to my collar.
"You did well, SISSY. And so did the stream."
She lifted her phone and showed me the live count.
$108,230
"Looks like they want more. And I don't think we've quite finished entertaining them, have we?"
I blinked up at her, dazed, still on my knees.
She pulled me to my feet and led me into the living room where a familiar setup had been arranged. Pink backdrop. LED lights. Tripod. A new sign hung from the wall behind the fuck machine:
"TONIGHT'S CHALLENGE: THE SISSY CAN'T CUM, BUT YOU CAN."
I barely had time to process before Amber snapped a photo of me, added it to the stream, and sent out a poll:"What humiliating task should SISSY perform next?"
The options weren't even hidden:
Bark like a dog after every sentence
Clean 10 pairs of shoes with your tongue
Be used as a urinal on camera
Caged cock milking attempt—hands tied
Public hallway walk with 'FREE USE' sign around your neck
The votes poured in.
By the end, it wasn't even close.
Be used as a urinal on camera.
Amber grinned as she read the result.
"Well well. They want to see just how obedient you really are."
She walked slowly toward me, gaze locked on mine. Her fingers went to the waistband of her lounge pants. She pulled them down with ease, followed by a black lace thong that slid down her thighs and hit the floor silently.
She stepped over me, one leg at a time, straddling my kneeling body.
I didn't move.
I watched her—my Mistress, my owner—as she lowered herself onto my face.
"Open."
I obeyed.
The moment her warmth pressed over my lips, I felt my heart pound in my chest. She sighed, relaxed, and began to let go.
The first few drops were warm and bitter, spreading across my tongue. I tried to keep up, to swallow, to not spill even a single drop.
Amber tilted her hips slightly, guiding the stream straight into my open mouth.
The camera was positioned perfectly—up close, high resolution, with every detail on display. Her smile. My expression. The slow, humiliating act of being used.
"There you go," she whispered. "Be a good little urinal. That's all you are now, SISSY."
I swallowed. Over and over. My throat worked with effort, my body trembling beneath her.
When she finished, she remained seated on my face for a moment, grinding gently against my lips. Then she stood, wiped herself clean using my tongue, and turned back to the stream.
"That's enough for tonight. But tomorrow's goal is $200,000. Let's see what they'll do to get it."
She leaned down, tapped my tiny, caged cock with the tip of her finger, then flicked it hard enough to make my whole body flinch.
"You're not cumming tomorrow either."
The stream ended.
The shame didn't.