Toilet Salves Discovery Ch 02

Mistress Deborah stood in front of a naked, kneeling slave; I had answered her invitation, coming to her house; her shaved pussy only an inch from my face. Her pussy's feminine aroma "rushed" through my nostrils like Amyl Nitrite [poppers]; it made my head spin; my cock's tumescence provided the best display an average six inch cock could give-but you could drive nails with it!

"So I see you like what your eyes take in, slave. Your pathetic little twig stands so upright," she said as she tapped its head with the tip of her crop.

She began to increase the rhythm and force of each slap of the crop upon my cock's head as she leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Gimps like you deserve to be punished to the fullest extent of their masochism-in other words punishment for punishment's sake; breaking your spirit and flesh, making you beg for only what I can provide, I will have you cringe upon my approach...and your useless twig will stiffen...and you will fall to your knees and cower before me, begging to lick my boots-every time without fail-or else you will be punished even more than usual."

And the crop continued its assault upon my cock. And my cock seemed to stiffen even more, if possible, and rise up to each slap-and, if it had a mouth and speech, would be begging for more slaps, harder slaps. "Look at me. slave: should I stop or continue slapping this useless twig of yours? Answer me!"

My entire consciousness centered in the pain my cock felt, holding me in a grip that I had to force myself to speak-"Yes, Mistress, keep slapping it!" I burst out loud.

And she took her arm further back and laid five more vicious slaps, and the pain had me fall over into a delirium of submission, pain and a state between consciousness and unconsciousness. I have no recall of how long I laid on my side, but finally from a distance I heard her command me to get up-and I did.

"Everything I do has a purpose, slave," she began as my mind focused on her words, and my cock bobbed about as hard as before. I am glad it is dumb, I thought, for I swear it would be begging for more, and I needed to rest it and not have it be slapped.

"Slave, your pain threshold is slightly below average, but I will adjust that. Soon you will be able to absorb much more pain," she said as she turned and stepped toward a shelf against the wall.

We were in a basement, converted into a dungeon. There were various benches, a St. Andrew's Cross, a wooden toilet box and a wall of toys like ball gags, harnesses, hoods, whips, crops, paddles, chastity devices, cock rings, belts, and others I couldn't make out from where I knelt, but it seemed to have everything necessary to torture a slave.

She turned: a leather collar with a metal leash in her hands. She deftly attached it about my neck as she said, "Slave, crawl after me on all fours." And tugging on the chain leash, she led me across the floor to the toilet box.

Standing at the end of a flat wooden frame, the toilet box was made of a clear, sturdy plastic with an opening in front that slid up as she pulled upon it: "On your back and get your head inside here, slave." A wooden toilet seat, painted pink topped it as I stared up; she lowered the front and the snapping sound of two small locks sealed my fate. She then attached my wrists to the rear of the box with handcuffs; my feet were strapped down to the frame-and I was now completely and utterly helpless. A strange feeling overcame me as I realized I had no choice but to drink her piss and eat her shit.

"So here we are. I will systematically train you to be my toilet paper, my shit slave, my piss mop-if anything coming out of me hits the floor, you will be required to lap it up-understood, shit slave?"

"Yes, Mistress," I replied as my cock jumped and twitched as she turned and slowly lowered her divine ass onto the pink seat only inches from my mouth.

"If you fail me, slave, let it be known that I have dozens, if not scores, of shit eaters lined up ready to take your place under my ass. They all are like you-you're useless pukes with little twigs that pathetically harden even when I say the word, shit.

"Look at your twig -hard as a rock; you mouth salivates in anticipation; your arms, your hands shake in fear of the reality you find yourself in-your head finally beneath the bottom of a dominant woman, a woman whose pussy moistens at the idea of pissing down your throat and filling your mouth with my shit. Years of fantasy about to drop into your mouth, real warm, right from my asshole, and to wash it down-my piss, salty and, also, warm, gushing unrestrained into your mouth and over your face. So you are where you were born to be, shit eater.

"From now on I will call you ass-wipe, shit eater, toilet slave, toilet paper, piss mop, cum slut and more. This room is sound proof, so know you will not leave this room alive. You'll serve me until your health fails, and then I will snuff you like a cigarette.

"No one will come looking for a shit eater. You'll become just another missing person that will take weeks to be officially registered. In the meantime, I will insert a catheter into you and collect your urine to feed back to you. You will serve all of my friends who visit me daily, and on weekends we have drinking parties with 40-50 guests here who will also use you as a toilet. Your mouth will be busy and filled most of the day.