“…maybe you could close your eyes and I could dribble warm tea on you. That might feel good. Or maybe you might think it’s fun to hear the sound of running water when we have sex. And, if things got really serious between us, I could maybe even leave the bathroom door open sometime. Although honestly, I’m really not sure how comfortable I would be with that either.”
Watching an episode of SaTC for the bazillionth time the other night I thought about how stuff that you once thought was a ‘deal breaker’ can become so normal and mundane that you don’t even think about it.
In the episode that the quote is from, Carrie is dating a man who confides to her that he wants to be peed on. After hearing this she spends the rest of their dates not drinking liquids and not going to the toilet in case he actually wants her to do it. She eventually confronts him saying she is not willing to pee on him, but maybe, just maybe, she’ll leave the door open when she pees sometimes.
I have to confess that I’d be pretty taken back if a man wanted me to pee on him. Pee on me? Sure, no problem. Me pee on you? Hang on, a minute! That would be thrusting me into the driver’s seat and I hate when that happens. (In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a switch-like bone in my body and I really, for the life of me, don’t understand how people can. It’s great that it’s their thing and all, but for me, no way Jose!)
But I digress, what I wanted to talk about was how it’s so funny that she has issues peeing with the door open. I can’t remember the last time I closed the door to pee (except in a public toilet of course!) and Master even has the evidence to prove it.
In fact, he was grinning from ear to ear the other day when he gleefully informed me that he’d changed the screen saver on his iMac. I had complained that the slide-show of my ass and cunt was becoming a bit depressing, so he happily changed it to his collection of photos of when we went away – which includes numerous pictures of me on the toilet.
Now when I walk into the kitchen, I get to see me sitting on the throne in all my glory. Seriously, I don’t know which is worse, toilet shots or ass and cunt shots.
Actually, if I remember correctly I think Master made it a rule that I wasn’t allowed to close the door when I went to the toilet because ‘slaves don’t have privacy’. Fortunately we have two toilets, and in those early months before doing my business with the door open became mundane, I always managed to go to the toilet that was the furthest away from wherever Master was. That was until he sprung me one morning when I was still half-asleep, quickly snapping several shots of me tinkling before I even knew what was happening and that was the start of his ‘toilet shot’ collection.
As a girlie it’s generally embarrassing to have my ‘tinkle’ heard or seen. I was acutely aware of it when I was in Japan, where it’s a crime against humanity to have the sound of your pee echo through a public toilet. In order to avoid this, you either flush the toilet while you pee (which is an exercise in precision timing – if you don’t match your stream with the flush, you’ve got to flush again, but then the tank might be empty and you can’t and oh my god, the shame!) or you use one of the handy little devices called “The Sound Princess” that they often have on the wall that emits either a flushing sound or birds chirping or something equally as masking while you tinkle.
Generally they come on with an infra-red sensor when you sit down, but you can turn it off if you’re just sitting there reading the Japan Times or something. These devices are also handy for masking your swearing when you get into a public toilet and realise that you’ve forgotten to bring your own tissues (because, of course, you can have the technology to have noise emitters with infra-red sensors on the wall, but god forbid if you ever provided as something as basic as toilet paper!!)
There’s incidentally another episode in SaTC where Carrie gleefully announces that she’s gotten to the stage in a relationship that she can do a ‘number two’ at her boyfriend’s house. I’d like to announce that after nearly three months at my new job, I’ve finally gotten ‘comfortable’ enough to be able to do a number two at work. Yay! What is it with girlies and number twos? I’m sure there’s some left-over neanderthal instinct that doesn’t allow us to shit outside our territory in case a predator catches the scent and comes after us or something. As for men, I’ve never met one who couldn’t do a crap anytime, anywhere and have it fragrant enough that predators from surrounding continents could smell it.
But I digress…again…what I wanted to say was that things can pretty quickly go from safe-word material to the everyday. Maybe one day kinky will be normal and vanilla will be considered kinky:
“Ooohh…hang on, let me close the curtains if we’re going to do it without the ropes and chains!”