And then it began in earnest. Naked, with an erection like I was a 19 year old, kneeling before my toilet like an intoxicated throne worshiper, my face hovering about an enormous shit log of my own as it bends about in the cold toilet water, touching both sides—already its brown, smearing the white porcelain, and its smell, filling the bathroom with an otherworldly aroma, I stared at my shit log.
It was truly thick [it had challenged my asshole on its way out] as big as the black cocks that had slid their way down my throat hundreds of times earlier in life, choking me with their length and girth, depositing, of course, their voluminous, white loads filling my stomach like the shame and guilt that filled my soul. Many times I would aspirate the cum -and coughing and coughing, as if I were about to die.
It had begun! my humiliating journey to becoming a shit eater!
I was commanded, by my Mistress, to eat the shit before me; my phone, videoing each second as proof to my Mistress of my successful shit feast. She would not entertain shitting directly down my throat without video proof that I acted out, obeyed her cruel command.
My cock jumped in tumescent heaven as my hands dipped into the cold water; I scooped up the enormous log. It took both my hands, and it still bent at the end for about an inch. Yet its fibrous composition held it there, suspended, defying gravity.
I ran my tongue along its length several times, then swallowed the shit built up on my tongue. I stared at the phone directly and mouthed slowly in obedience, "Thank you, Mistress, for this feast." But my stomach turned; my mouth rebelled at the foul taste. Oh, the taste, a dead, rancid taste!
The taste of shit seeping into my very soul, a moment I could never return from, a psychological Rubicon. I had become a shit eater.
And then, I began to guide the shit log into my mouth and down my throat as far as I could get it. I bit it off and chewed and swallowed as fast as I could; I reached with one hand for the warm glass of my own piss to help wash it down, and with the other I balanced the last several inches of the shit log.
The shit in my throat gagged me, but the piss began to allow its decent into my stomach. I experienced the same feeling of being choked to death, accompanied by the strange and weird desire to being actually choked to death as I did with the black cocks gagging me.
I had secretly wished the black men would have grabbed my head and kept their cocks shoved down my throat, maybe living out their desire to not only dominate white faggots with their superior black cocks, but act out revenge for their black brothers who were enslaved by the white ancestors of their own slaves to cock. But the dreadful taste of shit filling every cell of my body broke my fanciful self-hate and suicidal fantasies.
The piss's warmth, its bitterness, and its salty taste mingled with the dead rancid flavor of my feces creating an unpleasant, disgusting tasting sludge within my mouth and throat that had me retching, on the verge of throwing up; but, I knew if I did, I'd be set back being with her by weeks, so I stuffed the majority of the remaining log into my craw and chewed and drank the piss as it washed its cousin's chunks down my gullet. I was done; I opened my mouth as instructed and the video proof was complete. I reached for the phone and blinded it—and I immediately threw up like a drunken college student. Encircling the throne with my arms.
My arms resting across the toilet seat's back, and, yet again, my face stared at the mess below me. I flushed and the swirling water deposited its foul and brown specks on my face. Too ill to move, I felt a growing nausea like the ocean's tidal flood filling me and a room spinning dizziness, making me afraid to stand up. A cramping sensation squeezed my lower insides like a python, that unpleasant, disgusting taste owned my mouth.
What have I gotten myself into?
As I had washed the last of the shit down my throat, I had lost my erection; it, too, felt overwhelmed and disappointed in the shit eater's experience.
Staring into the calm water of the toilet bowl, I pulled back; slowly I stood. Dare I recline on my bed? I stumbled my way there and collapsed. My last thoughts before oblivion were that shit tasted bad and black cock and cum tasted better.
As expected, the next day she called. As I answered the phone, I was determined to tell her I wasn't going to feed beneath her.
"Hello," I answered bravely.
