Author: Hungry Guy
Title:  TOILET SLAVE
Universe: Edge Play
Summary: "Ohmygod! I'm really going to be a toilet slave!"  
Keywords: F/M ws scat copr cons Fdom nosex rim 1st Mpov caution
Language: english

TOILET SLAVE 
BY: Hungry Guy (hungry@stoolmail.zzn.com)

    Steve changed trains at Penn Station in New York City.  He had boarded the train to Atlantic City two hours ago, and was now stepping off the train at that destination.  Emily had said in her last e-mail to him that she would be waiting for him on the platform.  

    A few weeks ago, Steve had seen her ad in one of those BDSM newsgroups -- she was seeking a toilet slave.  You see, Steve had just broken up with his last girlfriend, and was feeling lonely, horny, and daring at the time.

    Steve had remembered a time back in college when he was out drinking with some girl in February.  It was a frigid rainy night and they were getting it on in the back of his van parked in a deserted lot behind some college bar after closing.  They were drinking and she had to take a leak.  But the bar was closed and there was no place for her to go in his van, and she didn't want to go and stand out in the pouring freezing rain to piss.  Rather than lose the opportunity, he had offered to lie on his back while she squatted over his face to pee in his mouth.  Then he would go out in the rain to pee, should he need to.  To his surprise, she had accepted his offer!  The sensation was bizarre, and not at all unpleasant.  Needless to say, he had a fortuitous night.   

    However, except for that one exceptional experience, he had never had anything but vanilla relationships with women.  He couldn't even get any of his girlfriends to sit on his face.  The kinkiest thing he could ever hope to get from a vanilla girl was a blow job once in a blue moon -- if he begged bad enough and she was in the right mood at the time.  In that respect, he was sick of ordinary girls.  

    When he first discovered the BDSM newsgroups, he had been both shocked and thrilled at the kinds of edge play that went on between people in the scene.  They even used each other as human toilets -- as he had done out of necessity that cold January college night. 

    So now, he walked down the platform toward the station, scared shitless.  He nearly jumped back on the train just before the doors closed.  He sat on a bench and set his knapsack beside him.  There were dozens of people milling about.  Most had just got off the train and were heading to the station and down to the street.  Others were milling about waiting for a different train.

    During their e-mail discussions, he had agreed to be her toilet slave for one weekend.  He would arrive Friday evening, and would leave either Sunday or Monday morning, depending on how it worked out.  They set a date, and now, here he was.  Had she played a prank on him?  Would he wait here until late and then head back home on the last northbound train?  Probably.  But it was worth a try, so he waited.

    As the crowd thinned out, a woman came over to him and sat.  "You must be Steve," she said.

    He immediately recognized Emily from her JPEG picture.  "Uhm, yeah!  Emily?"

    Tall and slender, she was, with tan skin, brown eyes, and close-cut, tightly-curled black hair.  He had never had the guts to go to a munch, but he knew the garb.  He half expected her to be dressed in leather speckled with rivets and chains everywhere.  Instead, she was dressed in a gray sweat pants and matching sweat shirt, as befitted a cool autumn Friday evening.  Her poise, and the confidence in her eyes, was what made her special -- this kind of woman would never be available to him in a vanilla relationship.

    "Come on," she whispered in his ear as she started to stand again, "I can't wait to get your face under my ass!"

    Steve grabbed his knapsack and followed Emily down the platform into the parking lot.  Watching her walk from behind until he caught up with her, he studied her shape.  Her body was tight and graceful.  They had never brought up age in their e-mails.  He was afraid that he may have been considered too old, since a number of years had gone by since he was in his prime at college, so he never brought it up.  Now that he had met her, he could tell that she was about ten years older than he was.  But that was no big deal -- he was actually relieved to be the younger one. 

    She drove them to her home in her silver Lexus RX-300 SUV.  She drove through the city, past the casinos, and into a neighborhood of large stylish homes on expansive lawns.  She parked inside her two-car garage and then Steve followed her upstairs to her master bedroom, into the master bathroom, and into a walk-in closet off the bathroom.  She wasn't using the closet as a closet, however.  The walls and floor was tiled like a bathroom.  Then he saw _it!_  He swallowed hard when he saw the -- the _thing_ in the closet.  It was a padded wooden platform, apparently custom-built.  About six inches tall it was, two feet wide, and about six feet long.  At one end was a wooden box with a toilet seat mounted on it.  The seat was the height of a normal toilet.  The platform was fitted with belts and shackles at the mid section and at the far end.  In the middle, about where his ass would be, was a 6" diameter hole with a small plastic Tupperware tub under the hole.  She leaned down and swung the box open.  It was split and hinged horizontally, the bottom of the box was padded and lined with plastic.  There was a hole on the upper half of the box, now swung open, revealing the underside of the toilet lid.  There was a half-circular hole in each of the box halves, open to the padded platform. 

    "What are you waiting for?" she asked.

    "I guess you want me to get in there?"

    "That's the plan!  Here," she produced a plastic storage bin, "remove all your clothes and put them in this box.  They'll be safe."

    He removed his glasses then took his keys and wallet out of his pants pockets and placed them in the bin.  Next, he removed his shoes and socks and placed them in the bin.  Then he removed his shirt and pants, and put them in the bin with the rest.  Finally, with Emily standing there watching him, he pulled his jockeys down and placed them in the bin.  

    He sat on the bench, put his legs up, and leaned back.  He laid his head in the box half.  It was thickly padded under the plastic liner, and raised slightly higher than the rest of the bench, about an inch, maybe two.  Emily buckled the shackles around his wrists and ankles.  Then she strapped him down with the numerous belts over his chest and belly.  She picked up a thing that looked like a length of white PVC pipe with a 45 degree angle piece at one end.  She slid the pipe between his legs and then slid the angle piece completely onto his dick.  The feeling was strange, but not uncomfortable.  Lastly, she swung the box closed over his head.  His head was completely enclosed.  The inside bottom of the toilet seat was a fraction of an inch from his nose.  His face, it seemed was flush with the toilet seat.  His reflection was perfectly clear in the underside of the plastic seat cover.  _This must be kind of what it's like to be an astronaut wearing a helmet with a glass plate right in front of your face,_ he thought. 

    He looked back up at her face, and it was really weird looking at her face from below and upside down.

    "That's it," she said from above him.  "I'll be back when -- you know!"

    She walked out of the room and shut off the light, plunging him into near darkness.  Some light filtered in from the bathroom beyond the closet and through the gaps between the box and the toilet seat, and the seat lid.  

    He tested his shackles.  They were tight around his wrists and ankles.  Just to see if he could, he twisted his fingers back to reach the buckle of the one of the shackles, but he couldn't reach it.  He tried to scrunch his wrist and pull his hand through the shackle, but it was too tight.  He nearly panicked when the realization hit him that he was really a captive, unable to escape if he wanted to.  He figured that she would let him go if he suddenly changed his mind, but he came this far, and he would go through with it.

    ###

    Time passed, but his heart hadn't stopped racing since she belted and shackled him into this contrivance.  He could hear her walking around downstairs.  The anticipation drove him crazy.  After a time, he smelled cooking odors.  A little later he heard piano music.  There was a missed note, and then it resumed.  She played the piano for a while, then it suddenly stopped.  

    He heard her climbing the stairs, and his heart started racing again.  The light came on in the closet, and she lifted the cover. 

    "How are you doing?" she asked.

    "I'm just hanging out, taking it easy."

    "Relaxed?"

    "Yeah, as relaxed as a human toilet can be, I suppose."

    "So you're ready?"

    "I guess so."  

    "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

    Steve swallowed as she turned her back to him.  She leaned forward as she pushed her sweat pants down.  Then she pushed her panties down.  Her naked ass was hovering just over his forehead.  It seemed ironic; such a stately handsome woman, yet staring into her dark hairy ass crack hovering just inches above his head about to sit on his face seemed almost repulsive.  A moment later, her ass came back and down on his jaw.  He gulped a deep breath just as her hairy crotch pressed down onto his mouth.  Her crotch was covered with a thick black kinky pubic hair, and it tickled his nose something fierce.  He looked up along her muscular abdomen to her navel, which was fitted with a navel ring.  Her belly was flexing as she breathed heavily.  Her sweatshirt started just past her navel, and he looked up along her body to the bottom of her chin and up into her nostrils.  Then he noticed that her pussy felt really wet against his lips.  

    She looked down at him looking up at her.  "Get ready!" she said.

    His nose was pressing lightly against her crotch, and the air-flow into his nose was slightly restricted, but not completely blocked by her flesh.  Her pubic hair waved back and forth as he took slow measured breaths.  She suddenly bore down on his jaw quite heavily.  His thoughts were shattered when, _Gaaaa!_ his mouth started filling with a hot salty liquid.  She was really doing it!  She was really peeing in his mouth!  He held his breath as her pee collected at the back of his throat.  He thought about swallowing, but he didn't think he could swallow while laying on his back, holding his breath, and while his jaw was being forced open by about 90 pounds of woman.  He hoped that her bladder would empty before she filled his mouth.  She finished with his mouth nearly full of her pee.  She stood and looked down at him.

    "Are you okay?" she asked.

    He swallowed a couple of times, then took a deep breath.

    "Yeah!  I'm okay.  But that was weird."

    During their e-mail chats, he had told her that this would be his first time as a toilet slave.  She had told him that she would have preferred an experienced toilet slave, but it's hard to find guys willing to do this.  The last time she answered an ad from a guy wanting to be a toilet slave, he had so many women answering his ad that he had put her on a waiting list.  

    "You need to swallow as I pee," she told him.  

    "Yeah, I'll try."

    She sat back down, and resumed peeing.

    "He tried to gulp it down while she was sitting on his face, but only managed to spit some out the corners of his mouth."

    She stood after a moment to let him swallow again.  "One more time," she said. 

    She sat again and, this time, he managed to swallow some while she was peeing.

    She then stood and said, "I'm done."  

    Then she reached down and pulled a length of toilet paper off the roll mounted on the side of the seat box, and wiped her clit.  Next she lowered the lid, turned off the light, and added, "Expect me again sometime during the night."

    "Okay," he answered.

    From her bathroom, he heard water run briefly, followed by the _scrunch-scrunch_ sound of her brushing her teeth.  Then a moment later, even the light from the bathroom was extinguished, and he was plunged into total darkness.  

    By that time, he had to pee, himself, and he was glad for the plumbing that she had attached to him.  He relieved himself into that PVC pipe hanging on his dick, to the sound of liquid dribbling into the small plastic Tupperware tub underneath the hole under his ass.  

    He heard her move about the house for a while, and eventually went to silence.  Part of his agreement with her was that he would be her toilet slave 24x7 during the whole weekend.  He would even sleep in the human-toilet apparatus.  He had no idea how fast time went by, but he eventually dozed off.  

    "...wake up!  Wake up!"

    "Wha?  Huh?" he said with a yawn.

    "I have to take a leak.  Come on!  Open up!" 

    He took in a breath and opened his mouth.  He looked "up" at the back of her legs standing directly in front of the toilet "bowl."  She was wearing a large tee shirt as a nightgown, with no bra or panties.  She lifted it up, to show him her bare ass yet again. 

    As before, she sat on him with her muff pressed against his nose and her pussy over his mouth.  Her pussy was dry this time, yet her cunt lips were soft and squishy against his lips.  Again, her pee flowed into his mouth.  It was a struggle to swallow while his mouth was being held open, but he managed to swallow while she was peeing without spilling any.  

    She finished after a moment and then stood.  Without saying anything, she wiped her clit like before, lowered the lid, turned off the light, and returned to bed.  

    He gradually fell back to sleep.

    ###

    It was Saturday morning, and he awoke to the smell of waffles and bacon.  Mmmm, it smelled so good, but he knew he wouldn't be getting any.  He hadn't eaten since he boarded the train yesterday afternoon, and his stomach growled at the odors wafting up from her kitchen.  Alas, as part of their agreement, the only thing he would eat was what came out of her clit and anus.  

    _Her asshole,_ he thought, _What will_ *that* _be like?  Maybe she won't have to, over the next two days._  

    Some time later, he heard her come upstairs again.  For the third time, she raised the lid over his face.

    "Do you remember what I told you?"

    "Uhm, yeah."

    She was still wearing her tee-shirt nightgown.  Again, she lifted it up and sat on his face.  _Gaaak!  Her pussy!  It tastes foul!  So bitter!_  He knew from past girlfriends that pussies taste nasty if they hadn't been washed for a while, but with her pussy pressing down on his mouth, he was mute.   

    At least it was a little easier, this time, to swallow her pee as she peed it out.  

    Again, she finished, and closed the lid and left without saying a word.

    He heard her in the bathroom.  The shower came on and she disappeared into the shower for a while.  _I wish she had showered before she pissed, but it's not my place to tell her when to piss, I guess._

    Her shower eventually ended.  He heard her brush her teeth again, and she headed downstairs.

    Hours passed, it seemed.  Steve could her noises from downstairs as she did this and that.  _This is getting boring, now!_ Steve thought.

    Around the middle of the day, Emily came back upstairs to pee.  She raised the lid and he looked her over.  She was wearing skin-tight blue jeans and a white halter top, her navel ring sparkled in the bathroom light.  This time, she didn't say anything to him, she just turned her back to him, pulled her jeans down, and sat.  

    Her black scratchy pubic hair still tickled his nose as he took slow measured breaths.  Her piss flowed without delay, and he swallowed as she peed.  He swallowed again.  And again.  She wasn't letting up!  _She must have had a really full bladder this time,_ he thought, _It's a good thing she made me swallow while she peed.  Otherwise I'd have been in trouble this time!_

    She finally finished peeing, and he finished swallowing.  She stood, wiped her pussy, pulled her jeans up, lowered the lid, and left.  She didn't speak to him at all this time -- she just used him.

    Steve had been getting hornier each time she used him.  He had had a hard-on nearly continuously since she strapped and shackled him into this thing.  However, one of the things they agreed on in their e-mails was that there would be no sex -- no fucking.  Truth be told, that was just fine with him -- he didn't want a _surprise_ nine months after his adventure.  This time as she used him, his dick erupted into that pipe while he was under her ass swallowing her pee. 

    More hours passed.  He had no idea what she was doing downstairs.  He occasionally heard her make noises, but it was mostly very quiet.  

    She came back upstairs.  As before, she came into the closet, used him, and left, without a word.

    He sighed and thought, _I guess there's nothing to say anymore._ 

    More hours passed, it must be getting late.  He smelled more cooking odors, some kind of pasta.  He was starving!  

    _Maybe I could ask her to give me a little something to eat, but I don't want to wimp out on her._  

    Some time later, she came back upstairs into the closet.  

    _Get ready to suck down more piss,_ he thought.

    She raised the lid and looked down at him.  

    "I hope you're hungry!" she said.

    "Yeah!  I'm starving!  I didn't want to ask before, but are you going to give me something to eat?"

    "I sure am!"

    But instead of giving him a bite to eat, she pulled her jeans down and sat on his face once again.  He sucked her piss down like a pro as she filled his mouth.

    She stopped peeing, but she didn't stand.  Instead, she lifted her weight off his face slightly, and then she slid forward, higher on his face.  Because of this, is nose was pushed deep into her pussy and he couldn't breathe.  He suddenly realized what was over his mouth -- her asshole!  He could feel her dry leathery hole puckering against his lips as she squirmed as though trying to push at something.  

    _Oh man!  This is too gross!  Please stop!_  

    He realized that she, of course, couldn't hear his thoughts.

    He heard her grunt.  He felt her anus quiver again.  He knew what was about to happen.  Well, he had expected it.  He had agreed during their discussions, after all, to drink her piss and eat her shit.  They hadn't agreed upon a safe-word because they both knew precisely what his function was to be; and even if they had agreed upon a safe-word, he was mute.  Her anus puckered again momentarily, then relaxed.  He heard her moan.  Her anus puckered really big and, in an instant, his mouth had filled with a big lump of sticky goop.  

    By now, his lungs were screaming to exhale.  Her anus puckered again, and more lumps of goop filled his mouth.  He swallowed a lump -- then another one.  They were like very think lumps of gritty pudding, with stringy bits of stuff mixed in them.  They were even more difficult to swallow than her piss, but he managed to swallow most of it.  His lungs were screaming in pain, but she seemed to just sit on him for an eternity before her anus puckered yet again filling his mouth yet again. 

    Several moments passed, and then she stood.  He nearly spit her shit out of his mouth as his breath rushed out of his nose.  He caught his breath just in time, and swallowed those last lumps of shit.  

    While she was sitting and shitting, there was relatively little smell.  But then, after she stood, the shitty stink was intense!  And the taste of the lumps of shit in his mouth was so foul and rank that he could hardly stand it!  He had to fight back the urge to puke so bad! 

    She was holding a crumpled wad of toilet paper that she had just wiped her ass with when he managed to look up at her looking down at him.  "Are you okay down there?" she asked.

    He swallowed the last of her shit.  "I'm okay, but I don't think I can keep it down.  I feel like I'm going to puke any second."

    "Well, most people puke the first time they eat shit.  But try to keep it down.  It'd be a real mess for me to clean up if you puke up my shit all over."

    He inhaled and exhaled slowly before answering, "I'll try."  

    She went out to the bathroom and returned holding a paper cup.  She got to her knees and put the cup to his lips. 

    "Here, drink this water.  Since this is your first time, I'll give you a break."

    The water was refreshing and cool.  The urge to puke ceased being so strong.

    "Thanks, Emily."

    "You're welcome.  But the next time, you won't get any water afterward.  You have to learn to be a low-maintenance toilet."    

    "Okay, I'll do my best."

    She gave him the rest of the cup of water, and left.

    He lay there for the next few hours.  A few times, the urge to puke almost got the better of him, but he managed to keep her shit down.  Eventually, the urge subsided and he began to feel better.

    He had been peeing into the pipe more and more frequently as time passed.  He suddenly had to take a dump.  He just let it out through that hole in the bench, into the small plastic tub beneath his ass.  He heard it plop into water as it fell out of him.  Oh man, what a stink!  

    Emily eventually came upstairs again a few hours later that evening.  She had changed into her nightgown again.  Without a word, she removed the plastic pan under his ass and took it into the bathroom to empty it.  She replaced it and then sat on him, peed, wiped, and left in silence.

    She went to bed a little after that, and he, too, finally fell asleep once again.

    She woke him again during the night to pee, but he hardly noticed.  He was half-asleep during it, and he promptly fell back to sleep when she returned to bed. 

    ###

    Sunday morning, he awoke to the smell of eggs and potatoes.  

    A little later she came up and used him to take a piss.  She didn't say anything until after she had used him, then she asked, "So, are you leaving me today?  Or can I keep you until tomorrow morning?"

    He answered, "It's nice of you to ask, but I can't answer.  It's up to you." 

    "Very well," she answered, and walked out.  Again, she took her morning shower and then went back downstairs.  She played her piano for about an hour or so.  After that, she spent the rest of the day flitting around the house. 

    He thought to himself, _Being a toilet slave is mostly hours of boredom with occasional thrilling moments._

    His reverie was broken when she entered the closet again.  Today she was wearing a white lacy blouse with black shorts.  

    As had become routine, she pulled her shorts down and took a seat without a word.  She promptly emptied her bladder, which he dutifully swallowed.  But once again, she slid forward on his head, covering his nose with her pussy, and -- you guessed it -- with her anus over his mouth.  

    He steeled himself for his second feeding.  This time, she didn't squirm or strain.  Her asshole puckered out after barely an instant, and his mouth was immediately filled with a long thick one.  It was too big to swallow, so he tried to chew it.  But an instant later, her asshole puckered out again, and he got a second mouthful as big as the first.

    He struggled to chew and swallow as much as he could before she pushed out another huge log. 

    She did, too.  His mouth was packed solid with her shit now, making it even more difficult to chew and swallow.  And of course, like the time before, his lungs were screaming in pain to take a breath.  He managed to chew and swallow a little some more of it.  Then a little more.  And as he swallowed more and emptied his mouth, it because easier to chew and swallow, but the pain of holding his breath so long became nearly unbearable.  

    He swallowed a little more, and, _Oh shit!_ her asshole puckered out yet again and she shit another lump into his mouth.  

    _How much shit does this bitch have up her ass?_ he asked himself.  At least it wasn't a huge fat one like the last three.  

    She finally stood and he watched as she wiped her ass as it wiggled over his face.  The shitty stink filled the room again, and the awful taste in his mouth made him feel like puking again.  This time, she pulled her shorts up and walked out of the room without a word.  He breathed slowly and carefully, trying desperately not to puke.  After about an hour, he figured he had successfully held off puking, though the bitter taste of her shit was still in him mouth. 

    More hours passed before she used him again.  Per the routine, she entered the room, sat, peed, and left, without saying a word.  It seemed that it had finally come to the point where he was just a _thing_ to be used. 

    She peed in him again later than evening, and once or twice during the night.  He was half asleep, and hardly noticed being used.

    ###

    Monday morning, he awoke to the smell of eggs and waffles again.  He sensed that it was earlier in the morning than the previous two days.  Of course, he realized that she would be getting ready for work and, he hoped, would be freed from service. 

    His mouth _still_ tasted like her shit, but he no longer had the urge to puke, even a little.  He was getting used to being a human toilet.  

    She came in wearing her nightgown and, per the routine, used him without a word.  He realized something while she was using him -- despite the extremely intimate, visceral thing they were doing together, he hadn't ever seen her completely naked, had yet to even see her tits bared.  

    Immediately after she had finished using him, he had started to flick and swirl her clit with his tongue.  She immediately shook her finger down at him and said, "Ohhh!  Keep doing that!"

    He kept doing that for a number of minutes until she finally started shaking and quivering on his face. 

    She then looked down at him, shook her finger at him, and said, "Naughty Boy!" with a grin.

    She then stood and went back to the bathroom to take her shower.  She spent some time in her bedroom after that, doing what, he didn't know.  

    She returned to him again, now wearing a blue pant-suit suitable for business.  He had learned that she was a manager at some resort in Atlantic City, so she would be dressed up for work. She set her purse down and, again, she wordlessly pulled her pants and panties down and sat on him.  

    Then her cell phone rang.  She leaned over and reached into her purse to answer it.

    "Hello!"

    She emptied her bladder once again, which wasn't very full anyway, and remained seated as she talked on the phone.

    "Off by how much?"

    Steve swallowed the puddle of piss she squirted into the back of his throat.

    "Eight grand and change?"

    ...

    "Are you sure?"

    ...

    "What account code was it charged to?"

    ...

    "Well, my department didn't see any of that money?  Who ran the report?"

    ...

    "Figures!  Who got the allocation?"

    ...

    "Did anyone call his secretary?"

    Although her muff wasn't pressed tightly against his nose, and he was able to breathe slowly, this was the longest she had sat on him continuously and it became tiresome to breathe against the restricted airflow.

    "Okay and..."

    ....

    "And what?  Who authorized that expense?"

    ...

    "Yes, okay.  But that should be on Bob's action-item list."

    ...

    "Yes, I'm just about to leave.  I'll be there in a few."

    ...

    "That won't work, I have a meeting with the support team at eight thirty to discuss the LAN upgrade."

    ...

    "Maybe eight fifteen, I have to make a slight detour on my way in.  I have a personal matter to take care of."

    Feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen, he stopped listening to her business conversation, which went on like that for the next ten minutes, until he heard, "Yes, that's good.  Nine thirty.  I'll see you then," and she put her cell phone back in her purse.

    At that, she sucked in a breath and squirted another splash of piss in his mouth before she stood, wiped her clit, and pulled her pants back up.

    She looked down at him and said, "I'm sorry about that!  Are you okay?"

    He swallowed before answering, "Yeah, I guess so."  

    "Then it's time to go."

    She unlatched the box, unbelted him, and removed the shackles.  But when he tried to sit up, the pain of laying completely motionless, frozen in one position, for nearly three days straight shot through his back.  He slowly managed to sit up while she brought out his box of clothes and knapsack.  

    "Get dressed and I'll be back in a few minutes," she told him.

    He had a clean change of clothes in his knapsack, which he put on instead of the clothes he wore when he arrived Friday evening.

    He was dressed and sitting on the bench when she returned.  She took him downstairs and into her SUV for the ride back to the train station.

    "Here," she said, as she handed him a box of orange juice and a pastry.  

    "Thanks."

    He looked down and ate the food she had given him as she drove him back to the train station.  He still had the taste of her shit in his mouth, and it gave the food a strange taste.  When she had stopped at the station, and has he was opening the door to get out, she quickly grabbed his arm and handed him her business card.  

    "Call me if you ever want to get together again," she said.

    He took the card and got out.  She then drove off into the traffic.  He checked his wallet, and he still had his return train ticket.  He climbed the stairs to the northbound platform crowded with commuters waiting for the next train.  He hoped his breath didn't smell like shit. 

    * END * 

