Hell 8

She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled as she paced around the bed in the small room. "And you thought I couldn't squick you out," she cackled, opening the container in her clammy fingers and stood at the foot of the mattress. "We'll see."

The two victims quivered on the bed, bound, marked and restrained as she tapped an upturned bright scarlet bottom with a cane in her left hand, laughing as the submissive squirmed and squealed in pain. Her eyes glanced at the worried expression from the startled man underneath his wife; fear and anticipation etched upon his face.

She traced the cane along the crack of the naked woman, gently poking at her lubricated anus, stretched from where the discarded strapon had savagely and uncomfortably rammed into her hole. She tapped the nose of her husband with the wooden cane, giggling as he flinched, and then slapped the wife's rear again with a sharp flick of the wrist. A lustful spark ignited in her loins as her victim squeaked and cried, and the leather clad dominatrix took a moment to savour the gentle warmth tickling her cunt. Excited, she struck her errant sub for a second time, harder and angrier.

She waited for the poor girl to whimper again, relishing in the sound of her agonised distress echoing in the small room. It was time. For two hours her two submissives had been bound; for two hours she had promised to take them somewhere they had never thought of going before, and where she had only dreamt of going. For two hours she had to sate her impatience to proceed with undue haste. They said they wanted to explore everything, and they had never protested at any of her sadistic games. Not the most depraved of acts, and most revolting of fantasies, but this scene was beyond of all her partners she had ever played with. She knew there might be a safeword uttered but she had high hopes.

She felt the three precious contents of the box and smiled. With every caress of them her cunt felt wetter and ached further. She took a deep breath and writhed in her tight-fitting garment, tipping the box into her hand and feeling the smooth surface. She grinned uncontrollably as she withdrew her fist from her pocket and slowly inserted the first slug into the young lady's anus, causing the unsuspecting woman to clench her buttocks at the touch, and then relax as something slid into her rectum.

The sadist moaned: the rough, wet fabric of her panties rubbed against her pussy as her fingers pushed the second and then the third suppository into the arse of her submissive. She cried into her ball gag, wriggling her buttocks as the finger pushed the amber coloured pellet deep into her rear. Muted crying, begging, and whimpering filled the room as the wife pleaded.

She knew what had happened; they both did. There was a reason why the wife had been fed a large breakfast and a large lunch of high fibre food without permission to shit. There was a reason why she was now bound, her rectum full of fast-acting glycerine suppository. There was a reason why her husband was restrained underneath her anus. This fantasy had been played out many times in the mind of the sadistic dominatrix the couple both loved to smash their limits with.

"One hour," the leather clad sadist told her unreasonably. "Just wait for the hour and then I'll set you free." She sighed, plunging her fingers into her own waistband and massaging her clit; she leant against the wall of the cold dungeon as her submissive squealed in discomfort and begged for relief. Her anus puckered: the pressure getting unbearable.

The dominatrix took some deep breaths: the helpless victim was resisting. She always did that, and fought to regain control of her body. She never wanted to fail. She clenched her buttocks, anxious to retain the slippery mess inside and so desperate to retain her dignity. She longed for a toilet; she needed it. She needed to expel the toxic waste inside her, and implored for mercy into the ball gag.

She muffled promises into the gag: she would take one thousand strokes of the hardest cane if she could be allowed to visit the toilet. Two thousand. Three thousand. Five thousand. On her breasts. On her cunt. On her clit. Anything, but to avoid fouling her loving husband. Anything but that.

But she would not utter the safeword: she didn't know how; it was not in her psyche. She came to submit and she had to submit. A wry cackle emerged from the domantrix; sadistic fingers swirling around her crack as her arousal swelled inside of her. An itch, for so long ignored, was being scratched. She caught the scared eyes of the husband and picked up the cane. She wanted to see the eyes of the dutiful wife, so prim and proper outside her dungeon, but set to humiliate her husband in the foulest way imaginable, but could not tear her eyes away from the arse; she couldn't miss it.

The sadist groaned; the anticipation was taking her to the edge of heaven: so often had she masturbated to repeated climaxes at taboo-filled Internet porn sites, but this made her cunt sodden with lust; she could taste the tension and fear that swirled around the restrained couple and smell the arousal.

She saw wifely legs shaking, and a painful cry. She screamed "sorry" into her ball-gag and yelled as her buttocks clenched tighter and tighter, desperately trying to stem the slurry of shit that lay behind her sphincter. The wife panted, sweat glistening on her punished body and squealed as her resolve faded; it was too much for her.

The masturbating woman gripped the wall as the glorious sight of a puckering anus tickled her retina. She was there; she was going to witness a revolting wall of filth coat an unsuspecting husband.

She didn't need to see her expression to know tears were cascading down the wife's face as she farted, signalling the start of the brown goo to squirt out of her bum. The dominatrix came: harder, fiercer, deeper and louder than ever before. Her cunt exploded into a bag of sensual nerves, each tingle powering into lustful waves of relief at the nasty sight unfolding before her eyes.

She couldn't not look. Brown sludge poured out of the wife's butt, and landed on her husband's face, covering his mouth and flowing down nose, his chin, his hair and his startled expression. He spluttered to clear his breathing, but the malevolent dominatrix barely noticed; her climaxes were constant: she had made a wife shit on her partner's face! She had made his wife lose control and humiliate him.

The poor husband shook his head the smell and taste of the earthy, bitter shit filling his passages. He spluttered, but the dominatrix was suddenly watching with intense lust on her face; it was better than anything she had imagined and as the husband squirmed from his bonds, he saw the quivering thighs of the wife. She dropped the cane, and pushed her hand over the pile of shit on the husband, and touched the crack of the weeping, humiliated woman; it was wet.

It was soaking, and a gentle touch of her clit had the poor wife spiralling into a series of orgasmic cries that would wake the undead. She had found her scat lover!