No

You shake your head. Krik sighs in disappointment.

"Fortunately, you don't get a say," they say, and hold your face in place. They tip your head back a little and start to piss.

They do so very slowly, so that you can keep up. With your head being held back, it's necessary to swallow to breathe. The fluid is strong and bitter. You're well aware that Chullians piss a lot, so it's no surprise that this ordeal takes a good few minutes.

When they're almost done, Krik says, "Wait, you said you didn't want to swallow every drop, right?" and pulls their cock out to piss in your face instead. "No food for you then, I suppose." Krik replaces the wire gag, forcing your jaw painfully open again, then gets up and goes to work.

Weak with hunger, you collapse about an hour later. Krik yanks on your nipple ropes a few times and, when that doesn't generate any response, unties the ropes and ties them to the metal under your feet instead, dragging you along the floor face-down and backwards. Your face and swollen, recently-pierced tits rub painfully along the floor as the motion rubs the knot between your legs harder against your clit than walking does.

By the end of the day, your face and body is covered in scratches, so the epithelial cream is applied to your whole body, causing you to writhe against the ropes and pull on the nipple rings chained to the grate. All you can think, as the fog of unconsciousness takes you, is that at least tomorrow you'll be Dreg again.

You're so looking forward to being Dreg.