At first, all I remembered was the noise and confusion of the kidnapping, followed by what seemed to be long days of complete and utter blackness, simply due to my being held in a darkened room, with a blindfold. Of course, I was bound so that I couldn't take off the blindfold, or try to escape.

Later, after I had time to think, the circumstances of my abduction came back to me. I had just hung up the phone, after promising to donate some old dresses and skirts to an upcoming Junior League auction, when I heard a crashing sound at the back window, the sound of breaking glass. I saw the shards of glass lying on the floor, and my first thought was, "Ernestina will need to clean this," Ernestina being our live-in maid. But any further thoughts were cut short when a rough-fabriced cloth sack, smelling of dirt, was pulled over my head and I was carried off by several sets of strong hands. Though I yelled at first, I quieted when a voice growled, "Shut up, or I'll kill you!"

It was a very long trip, laying in the back of a van, or truck, and very bumpy. I could tell police many clues about the route, clues such as unique traffic sounds, and the like to help them find the kidnappers. After we arrived at our destination, hours later, I was carried into a building, which I later learned was a house. Placed in the darkened room by myself, I found myself longing for any kind of contact. Only one of my captors spoke to me every time she entered the room.

At first, she addressed me as Mrs. Cannon, and she'd talk about my husband, and the bad things he was doing to some group or other as a United States Senator. That's right, he's Senator Jack Cannon. You already know what state he represents, everyone does. And, of course, that makes me Sharon Cannon, the Senator's trophy wife. We'd been married almost a full year. I was his second wife, 24 years old to his 51 years old. I believed our marriage to be idyllic, with no reason to suspect otherwise.

Well, it appears that I've gotten "off-message," as Jack's aides sometimes say. The first captor that I came to know at all, addressed me first as I have explained, then became more familiar, calling me "Sharon." Since I could hardly stop her, and in truth came to look forward to her visits, I didn't protest her familiarity. And I think it benefited me, in that she prevented the others from hurting me at times.

It was never clear to me what they wanted. If they were asking for a

ransom, I certainly had no idea what it might be, nor was I in any position to grant it. So, all I could do was try to cooperate, so that they wouldn't hurt me. The first thing they did, was strip me completely naked. Thankfully, they kept the room warm, so I was not cold, but my humiliation was total. I had no idea who might be staring at me. I don't think I'm being conceited if I say that I am attractive. After all, I had won several national teenage beauty pageants, and had several successful years as a model before marrying Jack. I'm sure that you remember me peering out from the pages of several women's magazines.

Long blonde hair, green eyes, perfect teeth, snub nose, perfect complexion, 5'6" tall, 110 pounds, full B-cup breasts - few people forget me.

There I go off-message again. My first captor, as I thought of her, told me her name was Mirella, and that her "gang" represented a group of people who had been hurt when my husband introduced a certain law a few years before. Something that they claimed took away their heritage, I'm not certain of the circumstances. Mirella always took care to let me know when she was in the room, and I was grateful to her for that.

And so it was that I didn't protest overly much when Mirella told me they were going to begin my indoctrination. So long as it didn't hurt, I thought that I could stand it. Long speeches, boring manifestos, I didn't care so long as it didn't hurt me. That's why I found their training so strange. The first thing that Mirella trained me in, was holding in my urine. She made me drink a lot of water, and "stretch out" my bladder, as she explained it.

At first it was most difficult, and I found myself wetting myself, streams of urine running down my legs if I were standing, or spraying across my legs and feet if I were laying down. While I didn't like being wet, it was such a relief to finally let go. At first, I was punished for not holding my urine long enough, but never by Mirella. She would always stop the person who undertook to punish me, after a certain period of time. I soon learned that it would be in my best interests to keep my urine, or "piss" as they made me refer to it, tightly in. Eventually, I got to the point where I could drink 2 quarts of water, and hold my bladder for several hours afterward. But I so looked forward to letting it go.

Then one day, while I was holding several quarts of water inside, Mirella came in and told me that I would learn something new. I felt her touch on my naked body, something that I viewed as a connection with another human, and enjoyed. She had me lay on my back, and pull my legs up to my breasts. I could feel that my pussy was so exposed, and I wondered if she was looking at it. Then I heard her say, "Let your piss go, now, Sharon. It's alright, go ahead."

At first I had great difficulty. Have YOU ever tried to piss while lying on your back? But the bladder pressure and my desire to please, were so great that eventually I could feel a little trickle run out. Part of my piss ran down in a hot trail over my stomach, the other part ran down between my ass cheeks, over my anus. Along with the relief in my bladder I could also feel a tingle in my clit, from the heat of my own bodily fluid running over me.

Then Mirella said, coaxingly, "Let it ALL go, Sharon. Let your pee go." I had been unconsciously holding back, perhaps because of the pleasure it was bringing me, but when I felt Mirella's strong hand under my already upraised ass, pushing it higher, I let go with a strong stream of piss that apparently at first went straight up, like a fountain, and then cascaded closer and closer to my face.

Several things happened then, and I nearly fainted. First, the stream of my piss, hot and wet, crashed back down directly on my clit. It had been so long since I had sexual release - Jack, honestly, was not the greatest of lovers - that I came immediately, shuddering and moaning from the extreme pleasure, unexpected in this place. Second, I farted a long, loud, and evidently smelly fart right into Mirella's hand on my ass. Instead of being angry, she laughed a tinkling, musical laugh. I was so relieved.

Finally, recovering from my orgasm, I noticed that piss was still cascading out of me, and moving closer and closer to my mouth, aided by Mirella pointing my pussy so that my piss WOULD hit my face. I was stunned, but helpless to stop her. My piss was soon splashing on my face, getting in my hair, and my nose and eyes, and especially in my mouth. I swallowed some, it was unavoidable. When Mirella saw me swallowing, obviously urine, she praised me, and told me that she would reward me for being good.

She took off my blindfold, and I got my first look at Mirella. She was beautiful, with the natural beauty of a Native American maiden. Long, straight black hair, quite thick, dark brown-black eyes, a beautiful complexion, slim, she quite took my breath away. She let me remain without blindfold for one hour, then apologetically said that she was required to put it back on, "Until I was a good girl again," as she put it This training went on for several weeks, until I was very much looking forward to the opportunity to piss on myself. Then Mirella brought me to the next stage, accepting her piss. While very odd to feel someone else's hot liquid spraying onto your body, and smelling their distinctive scent, it didn't take nearly as long to get me used to her piss, since I was used to my own, nor did it take her overly long to train me in drinking her piss.

She had me kneel in front of her, still blindfolded, and nose out where her pussy was, always naked, then place my lips carefully over her folds, so that her hot, streaming pee would cascade into my open, and soon, eager, mouth. I would drink as she commanded me. As usual, after she was finished peeing into my open mouth, she would reward me with the blindfold off for one hour. I came to enjoy looking at her body, and her beautiful face, more and more.

We continued with this strange piss play for a few weeks, then one day she commanded me to move my mouth forward as usual, but the smell was all wrong. My face touched a round smoothness, where before there had been curled pubic hair. The smell of shit was noticeable, too. Too late I realized that my face was up against Mirella's naked ass! I had no room to move backwards without falling over, so I had no choice but to remain where I was, and hope for the best. I could feel Mirella separating her ass cheeks with her fingers, and a hot gust of fetid air blew past my nose. She was farting in my face! But the horror didn't end there. I continued to smell a horrible shit smell, and I heard Mirella grunting softly as she stood above me. Then I felt a hot, soft mass pressing against my face, leaving a sticky residue on my skin.

Oh my word! Mirella was shitting on my face! I kept my mouth, and nostrils closed, and felt the warm mass falling into my lap, onto my thighs. I heard several loud farts, then Mirella saying, "You haven't been a good girl today, Sharon. You let my offering go to waste." Then she left me there, alone, blindfolded and with several pieces of cold, slimy shit on me for several hours.

The next day, the same thing happened, but this time I pressed my mouth against her waste as it stuck out of her ass, and against her ass after the shit dropped out, but didn't open my mouth. She said, "You're doing better, Sharon, but not good enough." It wasn't until a week later that I worked up the courage to open my mouth, and fully accept Mirella's shit, chew it and swallow it. I had never felt so degraded in my life, but also strangely energized.

Soon, I was opening my mouth to accept her shit, her fecal waste, her

poop. I know you can't conceive of such a strange practice, but it became my only salvation. I knew that if I just did as Mirella commanded, I might survive this ordeal. I was so focused on "surviving," that I never noticed when it turned into a liking, then a passion, and finally, ecstasy. I was actually looking forward to the rank smell, the bitter taste, the slimy texture of Mirella's shit, sliding over my lips and filling my mouth. Chewing her waste, swallowing chunk after chunk of her feces, and then washed down with her salty piss, hot and steaming, and fresh from her body.

Finally, the gang concocted their greatest degradation of me. They all assembled together, eight of them, all female, and took turns using me like some kind of toilet. The first, a woman with a gravelly voice, probably a smoker, splashed my face with her urine, then, grunting loudly as she forced an unwilling turd, pushed out her waste onto my naked chest. Then, the second woman, sounding like a college girl, or of that age, splashed gallons of watery diarrhea all over my lower body - the smell was horrendous! Next, 2 young girls, possibly 10 or 12, no older. 1 pissing her very full bladder into my open mouth, the other pissing on my pussy. Then the 2 standing ass to ass, depositing their creamy loads of young girl shit on my breasts. The last 4 are vague to me, as by this point I was in a haze of ecstasy, cumming every time a splash of piss or chunk of shit hit, and smeared itself on my body.

Countless times I orgasmed from the smell, and the taste and feel of piss and shit on me, even from the sounds of farting as women prepared to let loose pounds of their waste on my defenseless, naked body. I must admit that I had never felt so satisfied, or sexually complete in my life, and that nothing could ever match the pleasure I felt when all of those women covered me in shit and hot piss. I thought that I would be condemned to this degradation forever, until...

Mirella was training me to even newer and stranger practices, when the change happened.

I heard a crash above me, and Mirella was thrown to the ground, judging by her abrupt grunt and silence. Then gentle hands took the blindfold off me, and a masculine voice said, "Mrs. Stone, I am SO happy to have found you! My name's Ed Casey, I'm a private detective that your husband, the Senator, hired to find you while the police spun their wheels. It was tough sledding, but on a hunch, I was able to track this group down and find you. I've got to get you loose before the other gang members get back!"

The detective stood me up and loosened my shackles, rubbing my wrists to fully restore my circulation. "Are you feeling okay? My God! What did those deviants DO to you?" He asked with a look of concern in his eyes. I nodded back that I was okay, whispering, "Yes, I'm okay," and he looked relieved. "Good," he said.

When he turned his back to me, I picked up a large piece of lumber by my feet. I hit him over the head with it, then checked to see that he was truly unconscious. Satisfied that he was, I walked over to Mirella, and softly patted her cheeks.

"Mistress!" I said sharply. Then, as I saw her returning to consciousness, I sat down next to her and put my blindfold back on, waiting for her to awaken.