Confessions of A Toilet Slave
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[If you can’t tolerate Scat stories, don’t read this and complain–just don’t read it!]
I knocked on the door–once, as instructed. After 40 or so seconds it slowly opened, a woman in her late 40’s stood there–black patent leather boots with six inch heels. She was otherwise naked; solidly built she was with deep blues eyes, long blond hair, firm, pillar-like legs, wide hips and full, large breasts that sagged only because they were so huge and round. Erect, long, nipples surrounded by small bumps spread throughout her huge breasts’ aureole. Her arms, toned and muscular, as were her shoulders; an enormous life-like, black strap-on swung between her legs, menacing in its beer-can thickness and extreme length.
In her left hand–a cat-o-nine tails with little knots tied along the length of each strand, and slicing across her face a sneering scar of a smile; her sinister eyes seemed to stare right through me as she slowly dropped her stare to see my hardening cock protruding through my pants. Her smile twisted; her other hand grabbed the end of the whip and she snapped it; my mouth salivated, my tongue almost leaps from my salivating mouth–had I arrived at heaven’s gate–or hell’s? In all honesty, I hoped it was hell and this female was Satan herself.
She turned and announced to the room in a deep voice, “Ladies, our ass-licker is here. Come in, Ass-licker,” she said as she stepped aside, revealing a room with 6 other woman all sitting on stools with their naked bottoms prominently elevated and displayed at the perfect height for me to kneel and have oral access to their moist, shaved pussies that glistened in the light and their slightly gaping, greasy assholes that must have been lubed and recently fingered, for they all were reaching behind them and spreading their ass cheeks, their sphincters pulsing as I stood there in a complete daze, my cock harder than ever before in my life–“Your personal info, please,” and I handed her the documents. “Undress, slave,” she ordered, and I tore my clothing from my body, dropping each item unceremoniously where I stood.
My cock jumped as I removed my pants; it seeped pre-cum as now, more than ever, was the seat of my consciousness; its throbbing lust was like a bridge between pleasure and pain, between all the opposites within me; my cock was my very own presence within the world. Lust’s power tuned my mind to another channel. And what this woman had promised me on the phone was about to become reality–pain, humiliation,discipline–all the ass one could lick and tongue.
A Week Before, or How It All Began
The ad was straightforward: a group of women were looking for a submissive male to be their permanent toilet slave. I had fantasized about this hundreds of times, but only once had I done it with a one night stand, so after a few emails were exchanged, and I was honest as to my scant experience, a meeting was arranged at a family dinning establishment fairly close to my apartment. She said she needed to look into my eyes and decide if she wanted to waste her time or not with having me come to meet her friends and attempt to go through with the toilet training. She said she had been through several situations where the guy really couldn’t do it, and she and her friends were tired of wasting time. So I had three days to confirm the meeting via email.
The fact that I was 29, single, living alone with no living relatives in the state appealed to her. She was up front that she wanted a full-time toilet to be shared with over a bahis firmaları dozen or more women, all aged in their forties to sixties and all with large, round bottoms. She guaranteed me everyone of them just loved having a mouth vacuum sealed to their assholes with a tongue drilled inside them as far as possible. An email with an attached video, shot on a camera phone, of these women bending over and showing their bottoms and the camera panned about their roundness; it had me in a state of extreme excitement, especially three black females whose bubble butts were enormous. I jerked off incessantly.
But the idea of being a full-time toilet made me pause, of course, but, as a few days crept on, I was persuading myself to meet her and go through with it. Fuck, my job was shit, my life was shit–and when I met a woman all I could do was fantasize about kneeling behind her and sucking her ass. Not having to work anymore and having no responsibilities had its benefits and allure. I had long ago became aware of my total “gimp” nature, had come to grips with my 3.5″ erect penis and had completely abandoned lusting after a “normal” sex life. I emailed her and set the appointment determined to abandon all hope and become a permanent toilet slave.
A week passed, and all I did was jerk-off and look for the email. I was becoming desperate when the email arrived. I opened it:
My sisters and I have discussed it and viewed the pics of yourself you sent. We all agree that a meet isn’t necessary. Please come to the address listed at the end of this email on Friday, 3 March 2013. Knock once. Wear no underwear. Expect to be enslaved and kept and used. We will make you a toilet. Bring all documentation of all your personal info: work place, banking, etc. Our people will close down all of your life so as to allow you to become absorbed into slavery completely. If this isn’t to your satisfaction, do not show up. Mistress Candy
Reality was there in front of me. I had a week to prepare; my cock was so hard I thought it would explode–and within a minute it did!
“Now, kneel and receive your collar and leash, slave; you have much work to do. You said you wished to serve, and so you shall. We aim to use you to your capacity…and beyond. All of these women expect excellent service from your mouth,” she said as a loop of plastic coated wire encircled my cock and balls; she pulled it back through my legs roughly and up my back, and attaching it to the collar as she pulled it even more tight. “I expect perfect obedience, slave, or I will take your balls as a trophy and add them to my vast collection –and I’ll use a straight razor and let you bleed out right here on the floor,” she said in an even, serious tone of voice as she reached around me, grasped my balls and squeezed tightly. Something deep inside me made me realize she wasn’t exaggerating.
Between choking and having my balls taken from me, I was suddenly aware my life could be forsaken at any second; and my cock almost exploded at the realization. Fear, now fueled my erection, my slave state. My senses now blurred into one confused state–my breathing quickened, the room’s aroma–an array of cheap perfumes, unwashed ass and excited pussy blended –with the animal, slurping sounds of groaning women fingering themselves –with pain emanating from my stretched cock and balls, my eyes darted about the room–visions of whips, dildos, and many devices hung upon the wall. And before me round naked asses awaited my tongue.
Every woman in this room knew I kaçak iddaa was a simple gimp, a submissive male whore who was about to perform the basest of acts–and my cock revealed my insane lust, my compulsive obedience–I lusted after complete humiliation and would instantly obey their every perverted command, no matter how disgusting. And I yearned to be punished, humiliated and made to do the vilest of acts more intensely than I wished to live.
“Open your mouth, slave,” she ordered and a blue pill followed by a glass of water; the blue pill would sustain my erection in this state for 4 or more hours. I was afloat in a sensory illusion–no act would be beyond me; I knew I would be used and abused–and I welcomed it all. Even the image of her wielding a straight razor between my legs had me at the edge. My fate sealed for the next several hours, I obeyed as my hands –handcuffed behind me –removed any hope of independence, and I sunk beneath the surface of a peculiar reality, one of fantasy become reality, and willingly drowning–dead to my former self. Completely helpless and at the whim and mercy of women who viewed me as a thing. I was were I wanted to be.
“Now kneel before me, slave,” I did–and instantly she slapped my face, again, again–dazing me, a buzzing sound in my head filtered her words, but I made out, “From now on you greet me by kneeling and cleaning my boots with your tongue. Do it now! And if you’re a real lucky toilet I may shove me boot’s tip up your ass while you jerk-off and then let you cum over the boot and have you clean with your tongue. Would you like that, toilet? Oh, I am sure you do. Look ladies, his cock is so hard it might explode” My new name, not slave, but toilet –as she had promised.
“Yes, Mistress,” I feebly answered. And for the next 10 minutes I cleaned both her boots, top, bottom and sides. One by one each woman stood and had me clean their boots, each slapping my face over and over. My whole head and especially my jaw ached when I finished.
“Your mouth must be dry, toilet. Come here, open your mouth,” and she fixed a large funnel in my mouth; its tip reaching my throat’s opening, an elastic strap about my head securing it in place. She easily straddled my head and her pussy hovered above the funnel as she began to piss in a strong steady stream. I struggled to swallow it. She finished and said, “Anyone else need to piss while the funnel is attached?” Three women stood and took their turn, and when the last finished I was full, my stomach distended, piss having leaked from my mouth and dripped over my chest. My Mistress removed the funnel and pushed my head to the floor, “Lick up every drop you spilled from the floor. Waste not want not,” she said with a hint of laughter in her voice. A chuckle bubbled throughout the room as my tongue glided over the floor
When she felt the floor was clean, she led by the leash to the first round ass; it was one of large black bubble butts from the video; my tongue darted in and out uncontrollably as my face came nearer the ass; its aroma wafted about my nostrils and seemed to send me over an imaginary edge into a catatonic state.
As my tongue tasted it, my Mistress pushed my head and ordered: “Stick that tongue into her ass, further, further; be prepared to eat whatever gifts she may have for you–be prepared to eat all our ladies gifts tonight, toilet!”
My long tongue drilled into her anus as I felt the stings of a cat-o-nine tails dancing over my bottom, and, since my cock and balls were stretched between my cheeks–they too felt the whip’s stinging kisses. kaçak bahis The dancing stings increased in pain as my tongue seemed to grow in length–and as I drowned in sensory fulfillment, no longer truly sane, no longer conscious, but in a twilight experience barely believing I was alive.
“You’re being punished for just being a male,” my tormentor’s voice cut through the white noise of being alive, and she lashed me again, “punished for just being so disgusting. Your little cock is so hard because you love to do disgusting things, don’t you, toilet?” I grunted and moaned an answer for my tongue was deep within this black woman’s ass.
“Oh, yes, we find you a disgusting creature, but we love your tongue up our ass and to piss and shit down your throat –delights us.” And she increased the whip’s speed and I automatically renewed my efforts to stuff my tongue in as far as possible, for I agreed with her. As a shit-eater, the first thing I imagined upon meeting a woman with a round, firm ass was to kneel behind her and service her asshole with my tongue.
My mouth seemed vacuum sealed to this woman’s hole as the whip twirled faster and faster; dancing pain concentrated across my cock and balls. My tongue now felt the broad end of her gift; it’s distinct taste like a rare, bitter spice commanded my senses; my balls welled up, about to explode, and I moaned deeply as her anus spasm-ed…and opened –her gift came rushing and sliding over my tongue and directly down my throat like a big black cock. “Chew and swallow, pig!” she commanded. And I was aware that the other ladies were standing around me; their whispered commands and orders, their demeaning words, like a whip’s lashes –stung my mind. “…eat that shit, toilet…I got a big load for you, slave…I’m goin’ wash my shit down your throat with beer piss, butt face…he’s mine next…a total pig.”
One of them had on rubber gloves and she pushed the brown log that extended from my mouth down my throat; her fingers then scooped up the smeared shit and her fingers pushed it in and out of my mouth like a piston, and in a chorus of commands: “Chew that shit, and swallow, pig!” and other degrading ones followed, and I complied.
As fast as I could, I chewed and swallowed; and as a reward, she forced me to suck her gloved fingers clean.
I swallowed the last; my guts retching, my insides rebelling against the intrusion. Before I could think clearly, I was pulled by the leash on all fours –crawling to the bathroom and allowing to throw up in the commode. As I stared into the commode, chunks of shit and brown gastric juices and lubrication floated about.
I came alive for a second as I was released from the wire about my cock and balls and shoved into a shower stall. Cold water smashed into my face; I opened my mouth and the stream of cold shower water tried to wash the taste from me, but to no avail. A scrub brush rushed over my piss and shit stained body and then two women with towels dried me off. A glass of blue mouthwash was held to my mouth and I was told to rinse and gargle.
“You have six more women to serve, slave. Tonight is a light night, for tomorrow you shall star in out clan’s get together; at least twenty women or more will use you as a toilet. We will drink and feast and piss and shit all for you, toilet slave. And your schedule will be worked out. I can’t wait to use you for a day or two. Oh, yes.”
End of Part One: I sit in my closet chained and naked. A small light glows and I type out this story under direction of Mistress Candy on an old manual typewriter. If i receive enough comments, good or bad, she may allow me to finish the story of the party and more. She said she will publish it on a site where they have an already established writer to ghost my tale.
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